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Already bored, Jake thanked her. “Is there somewhere private we can go and talk?” he asked.
To his disbelief, she actually checked her watch, a flashy designer thing that cost more than several head of cattle. “I don’t live too far from here,” she mused, considering. “But I’ve got a magazine crew arriving in thirty minutes to do a photoshoot and feature on me for Mindful Living magazine.” She shook her head, sending her artfully styled blond hair swinging around her perfectly made-up face. “I know.” She brightened. “We can chat in my office.”
Chat. He’d driven all this way so she could squeeze out thirty minutes to chat with him.
“Follow me.” Without waiting to see if he would, Micheline spun around and marched off in the direction from which she’d come. Leigh trailed along after her.
Fiona put her hand on his arm, as if she understood exactly what he was thinking. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” she said. “But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give her a shot.”
Jaw clenched, he nodded.
When they reached Micheline’s office, the double mahogany doors were wide-open. Jake stared as he realized several other people were already there. In addition to his mother, Leigh and Fiona, a big blond guy with a crew cut and a physique that screamed bodyguard stood with his arms folded.
Moving with all the grace of a queen, Micheline sailed around to the other side of her massive desk and settled herself in her luxurious leather chair. “Have a seat, Jake,” she said. “And then we’ll talk.”
Instead, Jake took his time looking around the room, taking care to make eye contact with every single one of them. “Could we have some privacy?” he asked the room at large.
Fiona actually took a step toward the door before apparently realizing no one else had moved. They all looked to Micheline, clearly waiting for her approval.
An expression of shock crossed her face. But then she slowly nodded. “Everyone out.”
“Even me?” the muscular guy asked.
“Yes, Bart,” Micheline said, smiling. “You can stand guard outside my door.” She looked at Jake, one perfectly shaped brow raised. “He’s my bodyguard.”
“I figured.”
As soon as the door closed, Micheline came around the desk and took Jake’s arm. He didn’t jerk away, but he felt himself tense up even though he knew better than to show any weakness around her. He let her lead him over to a small, overstuffed couch in a little sitting area to one side of her office.
“Sit.” She patted the space next to her. “When I’m gone, all of this will be yours.”
He didn’t bother to hide his distaste. “I don’t want it. Any of it. Micheline—” damned if he’d call her Mom or Mother “—you said you were dying.”
“Yes.” She looked down, hands twisting in her lap. “Stage-three bone cancer. I’m not sure how much time I have left.”
“Tell me about your treatment,” he asked. “I assume you’re doing chemo and some sort of radiation?”
Grimacing with distaste, she waved her hand. “I don’t want to talk about any of that right now. We’ll have plenty of time for that later. How long are you staying?”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her he had planned on heading home in the morning. The less time he spent under her roof, the better. The things he’d witnessed her do to others when he’d been a boy still made him shudder. He’d seen her order beatings when someone defied her and once, he seriously wondered if he might have witnessed her disposing of a body she’d murdered. As for himself, he guessed he’d been lucky that she’d pretended he didn’t exist.
“I’m not sure,” he replied instead. “I definitely don’t want to intrude on your busy schedule.” Said without even a hint of sarcasm.
Micheline’s expressive face fell. “I have so much to make up for with you,” she mused. “Before...you know.” She waved her hand vaguely.
By that, he deduced that she didn’t want her assistants, or whatever they were, to know about her cancer. None of his business, he thought. “The question is,” he said, deciding to be blunt, “are you going to have time? It’s clear you’re insanely busy.”
Eyes narrowing slightly, she regarded him. While he waited for her answer, part of him wished she’d just dismiss him and let him go. Another part, a tiny kernel of the child he’d once been, hoped she’d put him first for once.
“Can you give me a couple of days?” Micheline pleaded. “Too many people depend on me for me to just drop everything. If I can tie up some loose ends and delegate a few things, I’ll be free to spend a day or two with you. Will that work?”
This from a woman who hadn’t ever seemed to care if her own son was lonely. And when he’d craved a father figure, she’d told him coldly that she had no idea who his father had been.
“We’ll give it a shot,” he responded, his expression as neutral as his voice. “I’ve got people taking care of my livestock. Let’s play it by ear and see how it pans out.”
Was that surprise that flashed across his mother’s face? Surely not, especially when she let out a cry of pure joy and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you, Jake. Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.”
He couldn’t shake the feeling she was playing a part. But then again, what did he know? He hadn’t seen her in years. Maybe she’d changed. Doubtful, but who knew?
