Vendetta: Book Two

By Marina Cox

Sometimes deep dark secrets don’t stay hidden…

When Sage Cassava wed legendary Hollywood actor Brandon Parrish, her grandmother gave the couple—as a wedding present—the two-story secluded cabin in Montana that belonged to her late husband. Extremely pregnant and restless, with Brandon off wrapping up a movie tour in London, Sage starts cleaning out her grandfather’s old office in the barn and comes across a box of his personal journals in the back of a closet that no one knew existed.
And there might be a good reason why they were hidden.
Sage begins to dig deeper into her family’s past and learns there’s a deep dark secret connection that will change all their lives forever....

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483544809

Book preview

XO!

Chapter 1

July 2010

Ken Barker leaned back carefully in an oversized black leather chair, testing its limits under his weight. Ten different times this month he had come down to this monstrosity of a room called a library and tried to get comfortable in the big swivel chair on wheels. But every time, without warning, just as he was beginning to relax, the evil contraption would give out from underneath him, tipping him over and throwing him to the floor.

He was beginning to take it personal…

The creepy side of his brain wondered if the previous owner’s spirit was still lingering in the house and was using the chair to let him know he was not welcome. After all everything that surrounded him had belonged to the late, great Frank Hartford and as powerful as the man had been alive, Ken had no doubt he could be just as powerful from the other side.

Within the space of a year, Ken’s whole life had been rearranged. He had left Darby, Montana—where he’d lived most of his adult life—and moved to a tropical paradise outside of Orlando, Florida to be with the woman he loved. During his transition Ken had gone through a lot of major adjustments and one of the biggest ones had been the weather. He wasn’t one that minded Montana’s severe winters but the Florida heat was something he would never get used to!

The sticky, muggy unbearable heat that lasted ten months out of the year, kept him inside most of the time for fear of heatstroke, skin cancer or virus-carrying mosquitos. Now he knew why this state was the snowbird capital of the world. Smart people were the ones who simply visited during the winter. It was the only time you could spend outside without passing out, getting sunburnt or having to bathe from head to toe in a bug repellant.

But all that didn’t matter because Ken loved Margot so damn much, he’d stay here as long as she wanted and endure whatever it took, if that was what he had to do to be with her. The decision had been simple in his eyes from the get-go. He’d not hesitated after they were married to make changes. He’d immediately retired from his career, had moved clear across the map to be at her side so Margot could stay in a home that she loved and still do the work that she loved—which was running a massive empire that her and her late husband had built from the ground up. And just maybe her late husband’s spirit wasn’t too happy about all that, with Ken enjoying the benefits of what he’d had to leave behind.

Ken couldn’t blame him. If the shoe was on the other foot—he’d of come back and haunted Frank too. After all Ken was living in the man’s house, sleeping next to his used-to-be wife and loitering in his favorite office chair, at his favorite desk in his favorite room in the whole mansion. Did Ken forget to mention how powerful he believed Frank could be from the other side? Chills traveled down his spine just thinking about it.

But in reality he was living and Frank was not and whether the man’s spirit liked it or not, Ken was going to find the trick to sitting in his old office chair and have a shot of whiskey and a toke on a cigar one way or another. He was a determined one too—or stubborn is what Margot called it— and he was not one to give up so easily.

It was times like these that made him miss his simple old twenty-dollar, used, office chair he had back at the sheriff’s station in Montana. His office was the only space he could really put his feet up at the end of the day, light a cigar and take ten minutes for himself without being disturbed. The large windows behind his desk had opened up to a magnificent view of the forest in the distance and he took advantage—when weather permitting—to open them up and breathe the mountain-fresh air. But here in Florida, when you opened a window, the only thing rushing in was the heat, humidity, more heat and a handful of annoying bugs. Oh yes, these were the times when he really missed living in Montana.

Ken was always amazed at the elaborate space that Frank Hartford had chosen as his office-slash-library space. It was totally the opposite of Ken’s quaint little office back in Montana. Everything from the high cathedral, sculptured ceilings, down to the wall-to-wall endless bookshelves lined with hundreds of volumes of books shouted money! No expense was spared, even on the huge bisque-colored marble and stone fireplace just off to his left. On its mantle, another lineup of leather-bound books, which were worth a fortune alone. Why anyone would want a priceless binding of paper that close to a fireplace was beyond Ken’s comprehension. When he’d asked Margot about moving them to a safer place, she had shrugged it off and said they’d been sitting on that mantle for years and never, not one time, had even one ash made its way near them. It was no secret to anyone that they had been Frank’s prized-favorites out of the entire lot and had come with a strict rule of ‘hands off’ to everyone—including his own wife, when he’d been alive. Margot, even with Frank gone for nearly five years now, had still respected his wishes and protected them from being touched to this day which Ken found odd.

But aside from all the quirky actions of the previous owner, Ken had to hand it to Frank when it came to planning the layout of a room. On either side of that massive fireplace he faced were two, perfectly placed, floor-to-ceiling windows that gave the person sitting at the desk a beautiful full view of the south lawn and colorful, blooming gardens. A strategically-grouped seating of overstuffed chairs covered in deep browns, gave the reader a comfortable place to sit either facing the windows or in front of the fire while enjoying a book in the library. The space was complete with two more three-seater couches and a fully functional and well-stocked bar behind them, which is why Ken liked this room probably as much as Frank had. It was a place to get away from the chaos and relax in the much-needed quiet with a strong nightcap and a good cigar.

Ken laughed to himself as his eyes fell back on the books and the fireplace. Who lit a fire in the middle of this damn heat, he wondered? Sure he’d been told that the winters can get pretty chilly even here in tropical paradise, but enough to light a fire? On second thought, who wanted to sit in front of windows in the dead of summer and watch things melt in the heat? Right now it was so hot on the other side of that glass that he was surprised the grass wasn’t catching on fire or burnt from so much direct sun exposure.

Ken slowly puffed on his cigar enjoying the silence, his eyes now darting around the space. Everything Frank had done when designing this room, this mansion, was with a brilliant hand that also kept comfort in mind. Because of such smart, plan-ahead thinking Frank, knowing that this was a room of importance, had made the entire walls surrounding it—soundproof! And right at this very moment he was beginning to understand why he might have chosen to do that.

Margot!

There was a lot of commotion happening right outside the double doors that led from the library, in the main part of the house.

If you could call it a house, he thought.

Margot’s house was more like a hotel, one of those big two-story hotels. It had tons of rooms on both floors and something everyone here called ‘wings’ running in every direction upstairs with what seemed like a million doors lined up and down each hallway. To Ken they all looked the same. Hell, half the time he needed a map just to make it down to the kitchen and back up to his bedroom so he wouldn’t get lost. Course there were forty-something employees tending to the house and the grounds alone on a weekly basis. Someone was always moving about all hours of the night and day that could point the way.

But today, the staff was extremely busy and on edge—including George—because Margot was insane at the moment, literally insane! Which is why Ken had found himself escaping to—hence—the soundproof library!

Being married to Margot now for several months had taught Ken early on that when the woman gets into a tizzy, run for cover! He loved her like hell, would snatch the life out of anyone that even touched a hair on that gorgeous head of hers, but when it came to her fussing, well there was no way you were ever going to win—not with Margot. So, George had advised him that his best bet was just to get out of her way until she could resolve whatever it was on her own. He said it always worked out best that way. Ken didn’t argue with him. The man had been Margot’s assistant for years. He knew her better than anyone!

So here Ken was, in the library, puffing on his cigar and trying to stay out of her way and lean more of his weight on the back of the evil chair. It seemed to be cooperating this time. A smile threatened the corners of his mouth. At last maybe he was figuring this whole chair-balancing thing out.

He slowly dared to lift one scuffed cowboy boot, and then the other, carefully. He wanted to rest them on the desk like he used to back at his office in Darby, but that thought was short lived. Completely, without warning, one of the double doors flew back on its hinges and hit the wall. Ken wasn’t ready for it and he jumped out of reflex, the balance of the chair took control and the last thing Ken saw before he went backwards was a brief glimpse of a very flustered George coming through the doorway.

Dammit! Ken cursed through a mouth of cigar ash as the chair, with him in it, made contact with the floor. Fringe from the lavish Oriental rug underneath him singed from sparks that flew off the end of the cherry of fire. A pair of feet came into Ken’s vision and when he turned to look up, George was standing over him, hands on his hips, looking down at Ken with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Just what in the hell are you doing down there Ken?"

"Oh hell! What do you think I’m doing down here? Ken shot back. He made a move to get up but found the position he was in was restricting. George extended a hand to help him up. He pushed pride aside and took it. Damn newfangled fancy chairs!" Ken muttered under his breath as he twisted around to distribute his weight on his knees.

"My dear man! George said leaning down and righting the chair. What is the problem? It’s just a chair, nothing more."

Just a chair my ass! Ken continued. "It’s an evil death trap is what it is! Ain’t anything normal about a chair that wants to throw your ass out of it every time you try to take a seat!"

He threw the damaged cigar, broken in half, one part dangling, in the big glass ashtray on the desk. He began brushing more ashes off his clothes.

"There is such a thing as adjusting the chair to the way you like it."

George said, bending down to push a lever on the side that Ken had not noticed before. The back tilted forward about an inch or two.

Humph! Ken said, adjusting his hat that sat on his head. I had no idea that was there!

Try it now. George offered, holding a firm grip on the back for support.

Ken glanced at George and then at the chair and made his move to sit, but he still did so cautiously. Within a few seconds he was able to lean back without incident.

"See?" George pointed out.

Nice! Ken said, nodding his head, a grin starting to sprout on his face, thinking what an easy fix it had been. Course George knew how to fix everything in the house that went wrong at Providence Estates. That is anything that had to do with running the house smoothly, including Margot.

George left his side and headed straight to the liquor cabinet nestled in the far corner of the library. There he helped himself to what looked like a bottle of vodka.

Would you care to join me? George offered, tilting the label for Ken to see.

Sure! Ken opened the desk drawer and withdrew another cigar from the box.

Within seconds George was at his elbow, both tumblers filled with what looked like a double shot in each. He sat one down for Ken and kept the other for himself.

Ken lit the new cigar.

George began to pace in front of the desk.

You okay there buddy? He dared to ask, sure that there would be a tirade of complaints to follow that included his wife’s name.

"I will be once I get this down! Cheers!" He tipped his glass towards Ken, then tipped it up and emptied the contents. His face showed outward pains as the bite of alcohol slid down his throat.

"Is it really that bad?" Ken asked, nervously scratching his head.

George sat the empty glass down on the desk and looked directly at Ken.

"Can you imagine how fast she’s going to put Sage into early labor if she keeps this up?"

George looked tired and stressed around the eyes. His hair, which was usually combed so neatly, was tossed and stringy. His shirt collar was opened about two buttons down which wasn’t his usual either. As a matter of fact Ken noticed the color of his shirt was not the same one he had on an hour earlier.

"She’s being a nervous grandma…," Ken began.

"She’s being the white-haired witch is what she’s being! George stated aggressively, cutting him off, the last of his control giving way. It’s a trip to the freaking mountains in the middle of nowhere for God sakes, Ken! This is supposed to be an enjoyable time! Her only granddaughter is about to give birth to her first great-grandchild, she should be ecstatic, giddy, knitting mittens, or booties or something of that nature. Instead she’s on pins and needles—a nervous wreck! She’s running up and down the hallways of this mausoleum calling for me and everyone else, in a panic!" Ken tried to keep the smile off his face when George referred to the house as a mausoleum. He thought he’d been the only one who seen it as such. "If she takes this nervous energy to Montana, Sage will go into premature labor from all the stress Margot’s emitting! George worried, throwing his hands up in the air. She has to come way down before that plane touches ground in Glacier!"

George stopped being animated long enough to take a breath. He looked beaten!

What do you suggest we do? Ken asked, feeling the man out since he had more experience handling Margot under such extreme duress. He was willing to do whatever he could to help the situation out.

George studied him for a moment.

"I say we drug her until the baby is born!" George offered, nonchalantly as if he were dead serious.

That’s funny! Ken said, not able to stifle the laugh that came with that comment. When George stayed serious and didn’t relent Ken shook his head. "You’re not serious! When George didn’t falter in his facial expression, Ken continued. That’s illegal! Not to mention what that woman’s wrath would be like when she comes out of it!" He warned.

"Aren’t you still an acting sheriff. Isn’t there some law that would protect you?"

"I’m on standby in the state of Florida, which means I’m sworn-in to protect my town as a lawman and act accordingly if needed in state emergencies. But now that I’m Margot’s husband I have taken vows as well to protect her at all costs. As much as I like and agree with you George, I can’t go along with you drugging my wife."

Ken took half the shot of vodka down just to keep his back up.

"Damn! George said. I guess this means I have to drink more! He returned to the bar and poured another shot. You good?" he asked, nodding at Ken’s glass.

I’m good! Ken replied.

George walked back over, taking half the shot down before he reached the desk. At this rate Ken figured the man would be good and juiced up by the time they were supposed to board the plane later tonight. With George and Margot sitting on either side of him, that should be an interesting flight. He might be the one who needs to get juiced just to endure sitting in-between those two for the five hours it takes to get to Montana.

Maybe Margot is the one we need to give shots of vodka to. That way by the time we board she will be ready for a nice nap. Now that would be legal, hint, hint! Ken said, trying to offer an alternative solution.

George just looked at him with a blank face. Then he burst out laughing hysterically.

Won’t work, I already tried it earlier. He said, looking defeated. "I even went as far as to dilute one of her Xanax in a glass of tea. She flat out walked away; talking about something on that damn list she’s obsessed with and left it sitting on the counter in the kitchen. One of the kitchen maids thought it was hers and drank it. She’s now in one of the guest rooms upstairs comatose and sleeping it off! Margot is trying to fire her for insubordination on the job! When I tried to explain to her what happened she had her usual fit and fired me! So here I am! he turned to smile at Ken. I just want to shoot myself!"

Damn! Well does she have a reason to be a bundle of nerves? If everything is packed and ready to go, what is the problem?

Take my word for it! George threw his hands up again. "Everything is packed! All of it! I have checked it myself a hundred times over! But no! George became animated, play-acting as if he were Margot. He even made his voice high-pitched. We need to check it one more time George! I just know once we get down the road there will be something important that got left behind!"

Why do you think I’m hiding in here? Ken asked, shaking his head. "She was all drill sergeant on me earlier in the bedroom. I found her inspecting my suitcases I had packed myself like it was an evaluation. She told me I had shit all wrong inside, that my shirts were getting wrinkled the way I had them laid in there—all

kinked up like that—were her words! Then she insulted my boxers. She said the way I had them wadded up in the corner of the suitcase was what some homeless person would do after having unexpected diarrhea in the woods!"

"Did you refold them for God sakes?" George asked sarcastically.

"Hell no! I told her she could wrap my boxers in tissue paper if that made her happy but I liked them right where they were and I left the room and came down here. Sometimes the best thing to do is walk away from her, let her fizzle out on her own, cause believe me, neither one of us is going to make a difference while she’s having her moment."

"GEORGE!!!"

The shrill sound of Margot’s voice reached their ears through the door that was still ajar.

"I don’t think it’s going to be that easy for me. George said. She already knows all my hiding places!"

He tipped the shot glass and swallowed the rest of his vodka and then sat the empty glass down on the edge of the desk. He shook his head, combed his fingers through his wild hair, pushing it away from his face and proclaimed, God, grant me the serenity not to choke her! and then he disappeared through the open door, slamming it shut behind him.

"Dammit!" Ken exclaimed, as he lost his balance, the chair began tilting backwards and once again, for the second time that night he found himself on the floor!

Chapter 2

"Charlie, why do you play with me like this?" Meg Jackson rolled this question out of her mouth in a sing-song voice that filled his office.

Thanks to the clear, crisp quality of the new high-tech speaker on his desk, it sounded as if she were right here in the room with him instead of miles away on a cellphone.

Technology, Charlie thought.

He totally loved it.

The new Bose sound system had been installed as a gift from one of his very famous clients, Brandon Parrish. He’d told Charlie to look at it as a ‘thank you’ present for caring enough to notice he’d gone missing in Montana last winter during a blizzard. Brandon knew that Charlie hated to stop paperwork to answer and hold a phone. With this new system in place, he was hands-free when a call came in. Multitasking during conversations and meetings were possible now without interrupting his flow in paperwork. Sometimes he had to admit that Brandon Parrish was a genius! Of course that trait he definitely inherited from the long line of world class genes in his family!

"Meg, sweetheart, Charlie said in a gruff tone, sighing deeply before adding, I’m not playing with you."

"Really Charlie? Because I heard through the grapevine that you’re clearing your schedule, that you’re taking a trip out west and I’m betting it’s because you’re going to meet up with your client Brandon Parrish and his new bride who’s carrying the golden child!"

"You have one hell of an imagination. "Again Charlie sighed, very loudly just for emphasis.

And you are such a bad liar! She spat back.

"What is it that you think I’m lying about Meg?" he asked, coolly.

"You’re lying about where you’re going on vacation. I don’t buy the ‘frolicking in the Miami surf’ story! You don’t swim or sunbathe for that matter!" she quipped back.

So let me get this straight. You think I’m lying about going on vacation? Why Meg, would I lie about something so trivial? Huh? He asked.

"Charlie? Vacation? Both of those words in the same sentence don’t come out of your mouth—for yourself or for your clients! He could hear her tsk loud and clear. You’re a workaholic and you expect everyone around you to be!"

"What do you want Meg? My yearly itinerary? Gee-whiz, the next time I shit do you want me to share that with you too? Ya know, technology is a wonderful thing these days. If you’d like, I can take a picture of my shit on this newfangled phone I got and you can see inside my urinal within a minute! And if I push another button we can three-way with my doctor and all three of us can have a chat about the color and the texture of my crap!"

Stop screwing around Charlie! I’m not going to stop until I get the exclusive! You owe me! She demanded, ignoring his sarcasm.

If I remember correctly, I already took care of that marker. Charlie said. "Do you forget so easily who had the lead story on their magazine cover when the legendary Brandon Parrish got hitched? When is it ever enough for you?" he asked, playing the game they always played.

"I’m not talking about old debts Charlie. I’m talking about what is going on right now! The fans have a lot of questions and it’s my job as editor of this magazine to get answers for them."

"What answers Meg? Do you want a picture of his crap too?"

Charlie was playing the game alright. Hell it was his job to sidestep nosy editors, paparazzi and tabloid-toting journalists who wanted nothing more than to damage his client’s reputations. It was an old game that had been around for a long time and he was very familiar with the rules. But Meg, she was slightly different from all the rest of the journalists he dealt with.

Meg had leverage with Charlie and a stubborn streak a mile long.

She was good at what she did; he had to give her that. She had created from the ground up, a very popular entertainment magazine, favored by both celebrities and their fans as a reputable publication.

Her husband Peter Jackson was in the process of building a successful publication company of his own. He had just landed another best-selling author, Sage Cassava Parrish as a client, who was doing quite well her first time out. Why just that morning Peter had called Charlie to report the tremendous increase, this week alone, in the sale of his client’s new book, Stranded. And of course, no doubt Peter excited as he was, probably turned right around and called his wife Meg to report his and her success. Which basically lead up to the harassment on the phone right now that he was suffering through. It was a vicious cycle because everybody was connected.

"Charlie, come on! You think you can deflect me with your BS? She said with less patience in her tone. Why all the secrecy, can you just tell me that? Or is the reason for the secrecy a secret?"

"There’s nothing to tell Meg. For once nothing is amiss. You’re mistaking secrecy for privacy! Some people like it, ya know?"

"You are so hiding something, I can smell a rat! Meg insisted. Charlie, you know I’m not the only one who’s asking questions. Everybody is speculating. I mean, really, what do you expect? That you can hold all of us off forever? You manage two of the hottest celebs on the Hollywood circuit right now, but we haven’t seen either one of them hardly since the wedding and with a new author on your docket Charlie? A first timer that has hit the top ten bestsellers list, who is pregnant with the world’s sexiest man in Hollywood’s baby and she hasn’t shown her face to us but once? Why are we not seeing interviews and book signings all over the place or her baby bump as she exits the nearest gourmet ice cream shop?"

Well, Charlie began, and then chuckled. "You just answered your own question Meg. Interviews and book signings are all choreographed to generate book sales to aid in climbing the bestsellers list. If she’s already doing that, then why would we waste our time and money over-exposing her? Sometimes the mystery of who she is can generate more sales!"

"See, that’s what I’m talking about! This doesn’t sound like you. You’re a money hungry agent who uses every avenue he can find to increase his and his clients wealth. I can’t believe you’re not milking this opportunity with everything you got. Are you getting soft on us Charlie?"

There’s a child involved Meg. A baby… Charlie sighed, spitting it out before he intended to.

"OMG! You are getting soft! I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Has hell frozen over? Meg giggled. They are not the first high-profile celebrity couple to have a child!"

"Meg…"

For a moment there was silence, and then Charlie could hear Meg sigh, as if tired of the tug-of-war game too.

"What’s really going on here Charlie? Off the record; just between you and me.

Is everything ok?" The sound of her voice coming over the speaker was a little different when she asked this last question. Charlie knew Meg well. She too had a soft side; of course it didn’t show very often, that much she and Charlie had in common. They had learned early in life how to guard themselves as much as possible when it came to anything with an emotion attached to it.

"We’re not sure Meg. And that bit of information is strictly off the record or we end this call now! He warned. If I see one thing in print, anywhere…" he bellowed.

Save it! She interceded. I’m not that heartless when it comes to children, Charlie. I haven’t forgotten!

There was a moment of silence.

This is why you, of all people, should understand. He emphasized.

That’s not the part that I don’t understand. What I’m having trouble with is figuring out why you are so restless and edgy. What am I missing here Charlie?

He sighed, really loud as if a weight was about to be lifted off his shoulders.

Off the record! he stated.

Off the record! She confirmed.

Charlie sighed again, scrubbed his face with one hand and gave up the ghost.

"Sage Cassava—Brandon’s new wife—is Frank Hartford’s granddaughter!"

The pause of silence was longer than ever.

"What did you just say?" Meg asked, clearly in disbelief.

"She’s Jack and Kelly’s daughter, Meg!"

He waited a second for it to sink in.

Oh my god… she began, and then, "You’re serious?"

Dead serious!

"Oh my…god! I had no idea!"

Of course not, but now you do!

"Oh my God Charlie!" It was still sinking in.

You need to back off of them right now Meg, leave that girl alone. It could cause trouble.

"How in the hell…? I didn’t even recognize her in the wedding photos!"

Meg was still trying to process what he had just revealed for the first time to anyone. But he’d had no choice. Especially with Sage in the delicate state she was in at the moment.

There’s more.

He might as well tell her the rest.

There’s more? she asked, sounding spent. Isn’t what you just told me enough?

No, there’s something else I need to tell you. Charlie said.

What? Meg asked.

Brandon Parrish is Everett Calhoun’s grandson!

More silence filled the room, the speaker in limbo.

Don’t even try to figure it out, cause I damn sure can’t! Charlie advised, knowing full well that’s what she was trying to do right now. It’s the weirdest shit I’ve ever encountered in my life and none of it can be explained in any logical sense!

How in the hell…? Was all she managed to say. Meg was clearly shaken up. He could hear it in her voice.

Meg, listen to me, I’ll explain more later, I promise. Just do me a favor and find something else to put on your cover. We gotta do our part to keep their true identity hidden as long as possible. He cautioned, without saying too much in case someone was eavesdropping outside in the hall.

Sometimes deep dark secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Charlie! Meg said, sounding like she had already put herself in doomsday mode.

Well, against the odds we are going to do our best. After all Meg it’s not just their lives that depend on it! Charlie warned. Our lives are on the line too. All of us!

Chapter 3

Hey dad, is Brandon ok? A deep sound of concern heavily laced the voice of his middle child Brian.

Andy Parrish shifted the phone to the other ear and moved away from the open doorway of his den so his wife Jackie wouldn’t overhear.

Brandon is fine son.

"What about Sage? The baby?" he persisted.

Sage is fine too. Andy said, pausing long enough to glance over his shoulder again.

What’s wrong Dad? If it was one thing his kids were not, was stupid.

Nothing serious son, calm down, take a breath! He assured him. It’s just a precaution to be on the safe side. You know Sage. She’s an energetic one, that girl. From the way Brandon explained it she just overextended herself a little too much. She’s been put on bed rest in hopes it keeps the little bun in the oven for just a little while longer. She’s only got a few weeks to carry him full term anyway.

Andy heard Brian sigh.

That’s a relief. When I got your message and Brandon’s I about freaked out. Where’s mom? How is she taking all this?

Again Andy looked over his shoulder and found he was still alone in the room.

She’s packing the four hundred and something baby items that she’s bought to bombard this poor kid with.

"Dad…you haven’t told her?"

It was more of a statement than a question. Brian knew his father so well.

"Hell no! Brandon and I thought it best not to tell her until we arrive in Montana and do it together. That way if she hyperventilates and goes into one of those vapor fits of hers, she’s on the ground and not in the air being tackled by grand marshals and mistaken for a terrorist. Boy would the press love that! I could see it now in headlines: Brandon Parrish’s mother freaks out on a plane and gets escorted off in handcuffs by US Marshalls!"

Dad, what did you tell mom was the reason for leaving earlier than planned for Montana?

What else would I tell her to get her motivated without questions? I told her Brandon was anxious to see her. She thinks he’s at home already, but he’s not. He was hoping to be there by the time we arrived but that plan went sideways too. His plane got delayed so he’s still in London and chomping at the bit when I spoke to him a few hours ago.

"He’s out of the country? Brian asked. Is he crazy? His voice went up an octave higher. His wife is about to deliver any day and he’s halfway across the world?"

He was trying to wrap up a last minute premiere before he took a few months off to be with Sage and the baby when he comes.

I thought he was giving this show biz crap up? Brian questioned.

He’s not completely given it up; he’s just slowed way down. This last premiere he was covering is for the movie he was filming in Montana when he ended up snowbound and met Sage to begin with. Believe me when I tell you this, Brandon cannot get home fast enough.

Brian chuckled.

Still feeling the male presence there dad? Still referring to the baby as a boy I see! Brain teased.

Yep, I’m firm on that. I’m still predicting that she’ll have a boy!

We’ll see who wins the baby gender pool once she delivers. In the meantime I feel for poor Brandon. With all you guys existing together under one roof, well he better hope for his sanity that the baby comes early. I hope he has plenty of liquor on hand.

Believe me, I’m not going unprepared. I ordered a case of prime brandy that should be delivered right when I get there. I’m going to need it after the plane ride with your mother. Andy assured him.

"You should tell mom what’s going on before you leave!" Brian said, in a warning tone.

Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mom. Andy assured him again.

Tell me what?

Andy turned around to find Jackie standing just a few inches from him, hands on her hips, a curious scowl on her face.

Chapter 4

Courtney Curwin tossed her famous blond mane, slid those magnificent hips into overdrive and began her decent off the elevator onto the third level. Taking long strides in five-inch purple stilettos, she began her trek across the main newsroom floor of the NBC building located downtown in New York.

The area held rows upon rows of desks, lined up in perfect little lines like a schoolroom. The roar of the reporters who dwelled there were loud like a cafeteria—voices shouting and talking animatedly, bodies moving from desk to desk, papers being shuffled while sounds of the keyboards were keeping in rhythm.

A hectic newsroom always got Courtney’s blood pumping, especially when the news was so intense that the station’s helicopters had to be dispatched. The sound of the blades starting up, the roar from overhead as they readied for a flight, the adrenaline inside the building as they radioed back to the newsroom once they arrived on-scene—it all just sent her endorphins kicking like no workout at the gym could ever do. Courtney was a news geek at heart and made no effort to hide it.

Two rows into the newsroom and the roar of the reporters began to die down as if someone had suddenly lowered the volume drastically in the room. Courtney knew she was the source of it. The majority of the crowd to her left had now noticed her presence and most conversations had come to a halt. Curious eyes were no doubt following her every move, scanning her up and down, always wondering what made her tick. She didn’t have to avert her gaze, break her stride or look around to know that’s what she would see. She was used to people staring; they had done it most of her life, for one reason or another and none of it ever fazed her, almost never!

Courtney, over time, believed she had figured out the secret to becoming bulletproof. She had realized early on that aggressiveness and growing a thick skin was the best defense a woman could have in an otherwise male-dominated industry. With more than half of her thirty-nine years on earth spent in front of the camera she had learned rather quickly how to mask her emotions on and off the air. Today was a good example of the reason why it was better to ignore than to acknowledge.

She left the stares of the newsroom peeps behind as she entered a private hallway on the opposite side of the room. Doors and windows flanked both sides of the hallway, some occupied, some not. Some of the occupants nodded and smiled as they saw her pass by their windows while talking animatedly on phones.

Another couple of maneuvers down more hallways and finally she came to a door marked Private. A touchpad next to the locked doorknob prompted the visitor to push the digital button on the panel for access. Courtney pressed her finger on the square as she had a million times before.

A surveillance camera overhead captured her face and immediately the door clicked, indicating it had disengaged the lock. She pulled the handle and walked through, coming face to face with the head secretary inside.

"Hi Beth!

Hi Miss Curwin! He’s waiting for you. Door is open! Beth responded, already knowing why she was here and where she was headed.

How is his mood? she quickly threw over her shoulder as she passed the desk and headed for another short, private hallway.

"He’s drank a whole pot of coffee in the last hour!"

Wonderful! she murmured under her breath.

Courtney glanced at the man’s Rolex she wore on her right wrist. It was well past noon. If her boss was still guzzling coffee at this hour it only meant one thing. Something big was brewing.

The door at the end of the hallway was closed. The brass