her only niece feel special.
“I really need to get to the airport,” Sydney said. “I’ve got a flight out at ten-thirty-something.”
“I’ll drive you,” Carol offered. “You can tell me about it on the way.”
Sydney didn’t really want to talk about this yet. It was too raw, like a freshly skinned knee. But Aunt Carol insisted, so she told the whole story, beginning to end.
“If you didn’t alert the media, who did?” Carol asked.
Sydney shook her head. “Unless some other investigator was following my tracks. You don’t suppose Dad…”
“No, I talked to him this morning. He doesn’t know anything.”
“He will-probably by the time I get back to New York he’ll have heard. And I’ll have to confess to him that I tore up the contract.”
Carol clicked her tongue. “You shouldn’t have done that. A million dollars could make up for a lot of heartbreak.” Carol would know, since both of her ex-husbands had left her pretty well-set.
“I couldn’t have Russ Klein believing I would sell him out like that!”
“Do you think your gesture did the job? Do you think he believes you didn’t sic the reporters on him?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t care. He could crawl back to me on hands and knees begging forgiveness, and I wouldn’t even consider it. Who wants a man who would jump to conclusions based on such flimsy evidence?”
“What else was he supposed to think?”
That stopped Sydney cold. “You’re taking his side?”
“Granted, he shouldn’t have accused you without giving you a chance to explain or plead your case, but-”
“I can’t believe you think he has a leg to stand on! He was horrid.”
“Men are horrid in general,” Carol agreed. “Anyone who claims women are the emotional ones have never seen a man jumping to conclusions and defending his reasons for doing so. But sooner or later he’s going to realize he made a mistake. Then you’ll know whether he has real character or not. If he can admit he was wrong, if he can apologize, if he can learn from his mistakes, he might be worth a second look.”
“Hmph,” Sydney sniffed. “Not in a million years. He had his chance. We had real potential and he blew it.”
“He’s only known you a few days. Mind-blowing sex is a great start, but it’s hard to trust someone you’ve known such a short time, especially in the face of damning evidence.”
“Forget it. It’s over. I’m going to confess everything to Dad, then we’re going to file for bankruptcy and I’ll pick up the pieces.” Somehow.
“I’ll say one more thing, than I’ll shut up.”
“Okay, what?”
“Don’t be too hasty.”
“I’m not the one who was hasty.”
RUSS HAD TO GO INTO THE STORE. Bert had been kind enough to cover for him the past couple of days, but today a party of six were coming in to get outfitted for a hunting trip. Russ didn’t sell guns, but he sold just about everything else and he needed to be there when his customers arrived.
Most of the reporters had gone away by nine o’clock, when Russ was ready to leave his house, but one enterprising young man remained. Russ stopped at the end of his driveway and rolled down the window, reassured by the fact that no cameras were visible.
“Mr. Klein? I’m Dewey Thompson from the
“Just hold your horses,” Russ interrupted him. “I’m saying one thing and one thing only to the press, so get it right, okay?”
“Um, okay,” the reporter said uncertainly.
“I am not a millionaire and I have no intention of becoming one.”
“But…but, Mr. Klein-”
Russ rolled up his window and headed into town. He parked down the street from the general store, then turned the collar up on his jacket and pulled down his hat as he made his way down the alley to the store’s back door.
Bert met him almost before he got the door open. “What in tarnation is going on? I got reporters settin’ on the sidewalk out front just lickin’ their lips waiting for nine-thirty so I’ll open the doors. I told ’em you weren’t here, but they don’t care. Apparently they want to come in and take pictures of your store, with or without you. Is it true? Did you really inherit ten million dollars?”
This was nuts. He wouldn’t have been surprised if one or two reporters had been interested in interviewing him. It’s not every day a long-lost heir finds out his estranged father left him ten million dollars and Sammy Oberlin had been a minor celebrity, at least in certain circles. But the media attention was way out of proportion, the type of frenzy reserved for rock stars, NFL quarterbacks and Tom Cruise.
“I
“Boy, are you touched in the head?”
“I got my reasons.”
“This has something to do with the city girl, I’ll bet. I knew she was trouble the minute I laid eyes on her.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Thinking about Sydney made his heart ache, and he couldn’t escape the suspicion that things weren’t exactly as they seemed.
What was he going to do? He couldn’t conduct business with reporters camped out on the sidewalk or prowling his store. Telling them they were mistaken would just fuel the fire. They could do their own research and verify he was Sammy Oberlin’s son. If he told them he wasn’t accepting the money, it would become an even bigger story.
And Winnie. Dear God, he had to talk to his mother before she saw all the cameras. Staying concealed in the back storage room, Russ took out his cell phone to call his mother. Maybe he could arrange to meet her someplace away from prying eyes, where he could break the news to her gently.
He already had three messages. He ran through them quickly, praying one would be from Sydney, but all three were from Winnie, wanting to know why he wouldn’t answer his phone. He started to call her back when he heard the front door open.
Winnie. It had to be. She was the only other person who had a key besides Bert and Russ himself.
“Russ? Yoo-hoo, sweetie, are you here? I saw your car parked down the street.”
Russ emerged from the storeroom and Winnie trotted across the wood floor in her high heels, her arms outstretched. “I can’t believe you kept this all a secret from me!”
Russ allowed himself to be swallowed by his mother’s exuberant hug. He hugged her back; this might be the last time she hugged him for a while. Winnie was generous with her affection, but she had a powerful temper and when she was mad at him she would sometimes refuse to talk to him for days.
“This just blows my mind,” Winnie said as she released him. “Sammy hardly ever even looked at you. He must have found a conscience in his old age, ’cause he sure as heck didn’t have one when I knew him.”
“Mom, we have to talk.”
“We will, honey, we will. But those reporters are the ones you ought to talk to right now. You’ve got to get used to being in the public eye, ’cause you’re going to be an important man.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “My son, the multimillionaire.”
“No, Mom, you don’t have all the-”
“You’ll look handsome on TV.” She straightened his collar and then spit on her hand to smooth down his hair like she’d done when he was a little boy.
“I’m not talking to the reporters and that’s final. And you shouldn’t talk to them, either.”
“Why in heaven’s name not? They seem like nice enough fellas.” Winnie strolled to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. As usual, when she had an idea in her head, she didn’t listen to anyone. “The first thing I’m going to buy is a new coat. I know it’s hardly ever cold enough down here to wear fur, but I sure could have used one these last few days. Which do you think is better, mink or chinchilla? Or maybe fox?”
“None of the above. Mom-”
“Oh, that’s right, you like all the furry little critters. And what do men know about fur coats, anyway? Oh, gosh, I’m just so excited I can’t hardly think straight. I don’t know how I’m going to fix people’s hair today without making everybody turn out like Ozzy Osbourne. Do you think I should keep working? I love the Cut ’n’ Curl, but it does tie
