Something Old Page 2

  Hell no. She wanted to scream. This is not how my life was supposed to be. She willed her tense muscles to relax, her clenched jaw to smooth out, to not show her desperate fear that was building with every avoidance.

  “No. I wanted this job because I’ve been doing it for six months.”

  Although he was also correct. It would have been much better to go to the wedding as a vice president at the museum rather than a manager of the docents. It would have assuaged her guilt and made her appear stronger in front of her former peers.

  “Well, Delaney, I’m glad to hear that. You’re a valuable member of our staff and we’d hate to lose you.”

  His words sounded practiced, memorized for when he had to tell staff they didn’t get a job or were fired. His words were bullshit, a word she had gotten comfortable using the further away she was from having to maintain a certain appearance. And it fit the situation. It reeked of rot and privilege and patronage. She knew exactly whose hands had smeared that shit on her.

  “Kira Van Owen didn’t want me to have this job, did she? What did she promise if you gave it to her favorite?”

  “I never said who got the job.” He sputtered, but his averted gaze gave him away. “Serena has more experience dealing with the trustees, and this role requires that you deal with them on a daily basis. There were some concerns that there might be some difficult feelings, some tension remaining between you and the Van Owen family, since your broken engagement.”

  “Bullshit.” The word shot out of her like a bullet and Benson flinched as if physically impacted. “Serena is an intern, barely out of college, and has actually no experience running the educational programs. She doesn’t know a Monet from a Manet, or a Picasso from a Vermeer. And you’re going to have her educating our blue blood patrons?”

  Delaney jumped up, began pacing the office, warming to her subject and letting her temper have free rein. “You only hired Serena because she comes from the right family, and has the right patrons. She’s not going to do a damn thing for educational programs and you know it. You owe this museum a responsibility to hire the right staff. Lord knows you quoted that to me a thousand times in the past five years, usually when you weren’t sure that you should’ve hired me. But I’ve more than made up for any doubts you could have. And this is how you repay me?”

  Benson stood, a conciliatory expression on his face. “Delaney, you know you’re a valuable member of our staff...”

  She leaned on his desk, face-to-face with him. “Prove it. You know this is wrong. Make the right decision.”

  He looked away, shoulders slumping. “I can’t and you know it.”

  She snapped up straight. “Well, that’s it then. I can’t report to her. And I sure as hell won’t be doing her job. So that leaves me with one choice.”

  His head flew up, eyes widening in alarm. “You can’t quit, Delaney. You need this job. You need us.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned back a little, drawing on all the attitude that she had learned growing up. “This isn’t five years ago. I’m in a much better position now than I was then. And unless you’re going to blackball me with every museum in this country—and I don’t think you’d do that—then I have nothing more to say here.”

  She turned on her heel, wanting to make a dramatic exit, something she had been known for in prior years. The theatrics might be a little rusty, but she hoped she had one last performance in her. Benson cleared his throat, and called her back in.

  She turned, cocking one eyebrow at him. “Yes?”

  “I need you, Delaney. The docents love you. You’ve done an excellent job developing that program. I can’t do anything now, but who knows what the future will bring. Don’t make a rash decision. I won’t block you if you decide to leave, but I can’t promise the same for others. They hate you. And I’ve always stood up for you. You owe me this one thing.”

  “I owe you?” Disbelief tinged her laughter. “I’ve more than repaid my debt. I’m grateful to you, but maybe it’s time we parted ways.”

  “Don’t be hasty. Why don’t you take some time to think about it. We can talk after the wedding. You are going to the Masters’ wedding, aren’t you?”

  She eyed him shrewdly, gauging his desperation. “Fine. I won’t decide now. I’ll take the week. But I want it as a paid vacation. And it doesn’t count toward my normal time off.”

  He smiled at her, but all the bite, all the anger, was gone. It was a toothless anger, they both knew it. “Fine. I’ll expect your answer in two weeks. Delaney? Make the right decision.”

  Delaney didn’t wait for the end of the day to leave. After her meeting, she wrapped up a few loose ends, grabbed her things and slipped out of the museum’s back entrance. Benson owed her for all the times she’d worked extra hours, coordinating events that he or members of his staff were supposed to do, and all the other little extra things she had done for him, including stifling her pride and serving him and the rest of the museum trustees at various functions. Not to mention failing to back her up on the promotion.

  How long would her past haunt her? How long before she’d be free of the stigma? Would she ever be free as long as she remained in Houston, remained a Winters?

  She parked in front of the building where she shared an apartment with her mother. The brick building in Houston’s Museum district neighborhood was a far cry from the elegant River Oaks home she had grown up in and the condo she’d had in Austin during college. At least it had a parking lot and it was in a fairly safe neighborhood, and far from anyone she would ever see from her old life.

  Delaney grabbed the mail and took the elevator to the third-floor, two-bedroom apartment. She let herself in and paused, listening for any sound. Hearing nothing, she walked down the hall to her room. She closed the door to her bedroom and walked over to the closet, thumbing through the limited assortment. Target poly-blend dress, no. Ann Spencer black linen shorts, maybe. Two thousand nine Prada black silk dress from the consignment shop around the corner, definite yes. Delaney held the little black dress against her chest, her fingers instantly recognizing the quality fabrics she’d once been accustomed to wearing. It wasn’t the latest style, but it would suffice.

  A timid knock echoed in the room. “Delaney? Is that you?”

  Delaney sighed. It was too much to hope that her mother might’ve left the apartment for the day. And why should today be different? The irony that her mom, former socialite extraordinaire, had become a hermit martyr might be comical if it weren’t for all the extra responsibility it heaped on Delaney.

  God forbid Mom would go to counseling to deal with her demons. “Shrinks are for weak people,” she’d argued, as if hiding out from the world were a show of strength.

  She didn’t pause sorting clothes but called out, “Come in.”

  Her mother stepped into the room and sat on the bed with a long, drawn-out breath, the very image of a delicate, English lady from the eighteenth century, except her mother wore lounge wear from Neiman Marcus. From her mother, Delaney had inherited her ash blond hair and blue eyes, but time, no expensive hair salons, no Botox and depression had lined her mother’s face, aging her.

  Without missing a beat, Delaney asked the question she asked every day, but already knew the answer. “Did you go out today?”

  “Actually, yes, I did. I had lunch with your Aunt Trudy and a nice meeting with a very polite young man.”

  Delaney nodded, only half listening. How warm would it be on the island? It was September, and Houston was still hot and humid, but the island had cool ocean breezes, keeping temperatures lower. Did she dare wear shorts? It had been months, well, years, since she’d worked out regularly. And her skin was creamy pale, not sun-kissed like it had been. She tossed the shorts aside and grabbed a couple of white, linen, Capri pants and tossed them on the bed.

  Her mother huffed and glared at her. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my meeting?”

  Delaney paused and turned slightly but dutifully
asked the question. “Who were you meeting with?”

  “Tom Reynolds, a reporter with Houston Lifestyle magazine.”

  Shock wound icy tendrils up her spine. “You spoke with a reporter?”

  Her mother had never voluntarily talked with a reporter, not since the attacks every time they showed their faces outside. It had taken a couple of years, but finally she’d started going out to lunch, and Delaney had even gotten her to help at the museum with some of the event planning. But she always dressed in disguise, a scarf around her hair, large sunglasses and a coat wrapped protectively around her. She never quite understood that people paid more attention to someone who was so obviously hiding and were more interested in her.

  It had been a couple of years since anyone had done anything but express polite interest, well, anyone except for Ethan’s stepmother, Kira Van Owen, whom Delaney had to see at every museum function. What could a reporter have wanted from her mother?

  She sat on the bed next to her mom and laid a hand on her mother’s hand. “Are you okay?”

  Susan’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be? I asked for the meeting. I thought I told you about him. He’s the reporter who wants to do a follow-up on the story. A ‘where are they now’ story.”

  Delaney froze, hand clenching her mother’s arm briefly. “I think I would’ve remembered a reporter digging up more dirt on us.” She jumped up and began to pace. “Mother, you know how reporters are. This can’t end well for us or anyone. How could you?”

  Her mother glanced up, anger flashing in her eyes. “I asked you, no, begged you, to come with me and speak with him. We made a mistake all those years ago. If we’d taken control of the situation, we could have controlled the media and everything would have been different.”

  How could her mother be so naive? Nothing would have saved the situation. Her father had tried, had a spokesman and a lawyer, and look where that got him. Dead of a heart attack at fifty-six after being broken down and destroyed by the media in their rush to judgment. And he had been a master of the spin, as evidenced by his many confidence games. Her mother was barely a guppy in the pond of piranhas, almost too small for a meal.

  “Who is Tom Reynolds?”

  “I told you. He’s doing a story on us, what has happened in the ensuing years. He was very nice and assured me he wouldn’t twist any of my words. I trust him. Trudy set it up for me.”

  Delaney’s knees gave out and she sagged on the bed. Visions of her job at the museum, her life she’d worked so hard to build, faded away, destroyed in a single moment.

  Her mother awkwardly patted her on the back. “So, why are you home so early?”

  Delaney blinked back tears. “I didn’t get the promotion.”

  Her mother hugged her. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. You’ve been counting on that. How could they do it?”

  Delaney shrugged, wiping at the moisture in in her eyes. “Same old, same old. The Winters name. Apparently, people feel that my reputation might tarnish the image of the museum so I should remain a hidden secret.”

  Her mother sagged onto the bed, wringing her hands on her lap. “And I went and did the interview, making it all worse.”

  Delaney’s mouth twisted in a facsimile of a smile. “And now I have to face them all at Caroline’s wedding. Joy.”

  How could she go now with her past being trotted out for everyone to see and talk about again? It had been difficult enough to get over the first time. She couldn’t turn and run this time, hiding from the world. She had to face them, hold her head high, and brazen her way through it. Not to mention Kira Van Owen, knowing how she had blocked Delaney’s promotion again at the museum. That woman lived to torment Delaney, ever since her father’s arrest.

  Susan wandered over to the mirror and pulled out a picture tucked into the frame. She slowly turned and held it out to Delaney. It was a picture of the whole group, the last time they were all together, the waves from the Gulf of Mexico rolling in on the beach where Caroline’s beach house was located.

  “Will they all be at the wedding?” Susan asked.

  Delaney nodded. “We’re all in the wedding.”

  Her mother pulled the maid of honor gown out of the closet. The gorgeous, ice blue complimented Delaney’s eyes and cool complexion perfectly. A simple design with long, sleek lines, it was fitted to flatter her slender frame. Caroline always had a good eye, but this dress had Anna Maria’s hand written all over it. She must have used her fashion contacts in Los Angeles to find the perfect dresses for all three very different women.

  Thoughts of Anna only triggered Delaney’s stress over clothes. Anna had always been jealous of Delaney and her New York or LA shopping trips. How the roles were reversed now. Anna was a big-time television star, while Delaney managed a group of tour guides, far from the high society wife and charity foundation head she had expected to be. She dreaded seeing Anna that weekend, anticipating the awkward role reversal.

  “Is Ethan going to be there too?” The tone was casual, but her mother studied her too closely for her to be uninterested.

  Delaney stood and took the dress from her mother, hanging it back on the rack. “Yes, he’s Matthew’s best man.”

  A gleam of excitement entered her mother’s eyes and a smile broke out. “So, you’ll be walking down the aisle with him? How lovely!” Her mother clapped her hands. “We have to find the right clothes for the week. We should go shopping! You’ll feel better with new clothes, looking fabulous.”

  “Not only can’t we afford it, I’m really not going to keep up with them. That’s not my life anymore, mother.” Delaney pulled a simple Donna Karan linen blend sheath and tossed it on the bed. Perfect for cooler nights and warm days. Multi-functional. She grabbed a black jersey dress and tossed it after the sheath and her mother snagged it before it hit the bed.

  “No, that won’t do at all. Not if Ethan is going to be there.”

  “What does Ethan have to do with my choice of clothes?” She grabbed it from her mother and tossed it on the bed, blocking her mother when she reached for it.

  Her mother frowned and folded her arms. “You need something new, something exciting, something sexy. You haven’t seen him in a couple of years. Men always get better looking, while women age. You need to show him what he’s missing, maybe entice him back. I hear he’s not dating anyone.”

  The last was said in a sly tone, leaving no doubt why her mother had really sought her out.

  “I’m not interested in dating him again,” she lied, hiding crossed fingers under a blouse. “Besides, I highly doubt he’d be interested.”

  “That’s what the new outfits are for. Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten how to flirt?” Her mother grabbed her hands. “Delaney, you love Ethan. I know it. I don’t know what happened between you back then, but time has passed. This is your chance to have everything back again.”

  “Mom, listen. My life is good. Not what I had expected, but still okay.”

  Pity and a hint of tears glistened in her mother’s eyes. “I never wanted this to happen, you know. You were supposed to marry Ethan and live a wonderful happy life. Now, you live in this tiny apartment, working for a living, supporting your mother. No dates, no social life. I feel like I’ve failed you.”

  She slumped on the bed, twisting one of Delaney’s tops in her hands. Delaney sighed, suppressing the spurt of familiar anger whenever her mother started her pity party. If she had really meant it, then why had she cloistered herself in this apartment? Old news, like so many other things.

  Delaney sat and put her arm around her mother, providing the expected comfort, the words almost verbatim. “Maybe this is the way my life was supposed to be. And it’s not all bad. I like my job.”

  “Oh, please. That job is nothing for you, just a dead end. You need more. You deserve more. I want you to embrace your life, not deal with duty and obligation.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “That’s why I’m going to live with Trudy in Arizona.”

  D
elaney gaped at her mother, stunned by the second revelation of the conversation. The hits just kept on coming. First, Caroline and the wedding; although, she had expected that one. Then the interview and now her mother was moving? Her mother who rarely left the apartment?

  “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”

  Her mother paced the small bedroom. “Your Aunt Trudy is lonely. She lost Ed suddenly and has been feeling down and at loose ends. Houston has too many bad memories for her and, frankly, for me too. You don’t need me. In fact, you’ve spent the past five years taking care of me. A mother should take care of her daughter, not the other way around.” She stopped in front of Delaney and grabbed her hands, forcing Delaney to look at her. “I love you, baby. But you need to move on. I’m ashamed that I’ve trapped you and sucked you down into this black hole with me. It’s time for you to live your life.”

  The room spun and Delaney yanked one of her hands from her mother and pressed it against the heaviness in her chest. She bent over, breathing deeply. When had her mother grown up and come to this realization? How had Delaney missed it? What would she do without her mother to take care of?

  She slowly regulated her breathing and straightened. Her mother hovered anxiously, clinging to Delaney’s hand like a lifeline.

  “I don’t understand how this happened.”

  Her mother relaxed fractionally. “Honey, I need to move on with my life. And so do you. Maybe this week you can reconnect with your friends, with Ethan, maybe.”

  Delaney bit her lip, feeling at loose ends. That morning, when she left the house, life was normal, if boring and claustrophobic. But she knew who she was, what she was doing. And despite wanting her mother to get out more, what would Delaney do with her completely gone?

  She nodded, instead, not sure she could trust her voice. Impulsively, she stood and hugged her mother. “I’m so happy for you. If this is what you want, then I think you should do it. Don’t worry about me.”

  Her mother drew back. “I want you to be happy. Maybe move away from here. Or reconcile with Ethan. Something other than working in a dead-end job for that horrible man. What do you want to do?”