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Chapter 28
We left at five-thirty the next morning on a plane that Brandon had opted to charter so that we could both work (and talk) on the way back to Boston. Maurice and Janette weren't joining us, having decided to go to Martha's Vineyard for the rest of the week to visit some friends from New York.
Brandon looked visibly relieved at their decision. We had all been exhausted after the fireworks, and he'd refused to tell me anything while the Jadots were possibly within earshot. Once we were on the plane en route to Boston, he finally told me why they had missed dinner the night before.
"They kept me cornered in my office until close to ten, giving me the hard sell on why Ventures should sell out to BNP." He rubbed a tired hand over his face. "They had contracts and everything. It made no sense, especially with the two of them there. I mean, he has to know I'm in no position right now to be making those kinds of deals. It's basically an open secret that I'm thinking of selling off."
It wasn't easy for Brandon to admit that out loud. But it was looking more and more like full divestiture from his companies would be the price of both his divorce and his entry into politics.
"Do you think he was trying to get in on the ground floor?" I wondered. "Capture some of Ventures' best investments before anyone else does?"
Brandon shrugged. "Maybe. But I would have expected a lot more subtlety about it. You know, I think he's really in some deep shit at BNP. I've never had someone and his wife sell me together on a deal before. And definitely not for three hours. Christ, I was a prisoner in my own house."
He gave me a crooked smile and kicked his feet up on the chair facing him. One hand dropped to my thigh and squeezed lightly.
I frowned, considering. "Well, according to the kids, they had to move out of their house in Paris. I don't think they are going back anytime soon."
Brandon's brows raised, causing his forehead to wrinkle slightly. "Jesus. No wonder they seemed to desperate. Shit, think about all that time they were alone in my office!" He pulled open his laptop. "I'll get Margie on it."
"Brandon," I said, interrupting his typing.
He looked up, big eyes full of concentration, but also compassion. "What, Red?"
"You don't have to do this," I said. I knew he wouldn't stop, but I needed him to know anyway. "Whatever is going on with them, you don't need to rescue Janette and Maurice. She's...they're...it's not like Bubbe and my dad, okay? They're not our responsibility."
"Oh, I know," Brandon said grimly. "I've seen them with you. And their own kids." His eyes flashed at the mention of Annabelle and Christoph.
The truth of what was really happening hit me: that once again, Janette had duped me into believing that she had something to offer besides her true colors. Her sudden appearance and generosity after nearly ten years of sporadic-at-best communication should have been more suspect. If they were truly in financial dire straits, then the lavish gifts of the piano and clothing were even more manipulative than I'd thought. I wasn't the target: Brandon was. I could only hope they had other options and would be able to take his rebuke at face value.
"We will make sure those kids are taken care of, though," Brandon said.
I couldn't help but smile. Brandon had fallen in love with my little brother and sister just as much as I had. I couldn't help but wonder how much of his protectiveness was linked to the way he had not been able to escape his own parents when he was the same age. His experiences as a young child fed his tendency to go a little overboard trying to please the people he loved.
"So this week." Brandon flipped through his jam-packed calendar on his phone. "Dinner on Wednesday? Otherwise I probably won't be available until Sunday." He twisted his lips ruefully. "Consequences of taking four days off."
I leaned my head happily on his broad shoulder. Things really were back to normal again––back to the place where he couldn't bear to wait a week to see me. I was thrilled; I felt the same.
"Just a quick one," I said. "But FYI, I'm probably going to go back to New York next weekend to check on Dad."
I could feel Brandon's frown.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," he said.
"Brandon, I can't just leave him down there. He's an addict in recovery, not to mention he's dealing with the stress of healing, unemployment, and being the potential target of a mobster."
I toyed with the pages of my book; when I said everything out loud, it made me even guiltier that I hadn't stayed in New York to begin with. Everything seemed to be calm and casual in Brooklyn, but that hadn't stopped me from checking on my dad on a daily basis since my last visit. The security team Brandon had installed was getting thoroughly annoyed with my constant requests for updates. But even though there had been no word from either Katie Corleone or Victor Messina, that didn't mean they weren't still circling. It just meant they were planning their next move.
"I still think we should keep trying to convince them to relocate," Brandon said as he picked up my fidgeting hand and started to massage my fingers. The calming effect was instantaneous.
I sighed. "I keep trying. But they are both so crazy stubborn."
"How many more times does Danny have to be messed with before he realizes he needs to get out of Brooklyn?" Brandon asked irritably, his Boston accent seeping through. "Is your family so attached to New York that they are willing to risk their safety? Is your dad's life worth a band he can't play in or your grandmother's card games?"
I didn't answer. These were questions I had asked several times, and every time had them swatted away like flies. I was asking them both to give up their lives, they'd said. Hadn't they lost enough? Was it right to let Messina kick them out of their home?
"I'll keep working on it," was all I could say. "But in the meantime, I'm not going to abandon my family. If they won't come to me, I need to keep going to them." I pressed a kiss to Brandon's jaw line. He'd shaved for the first time all weekend this morning, and his skin was smooth and soft. "And don't forget: I still have the bar exam in less than three weeks. I think a weekend away from you might be a good thing. You're too much of a distraction."
"I'm a distraction, am I?"
