Conflicting Webs: Book 5 of the Webs Series

By Darlene Quinn

This stand-alone addition to the gripping Web series explores love and loss, career and family, forgiveness and redemption in. Fast-paced chapters propel unforgettable characters through the turmoil of overlapping and often conflicting commitments. 

Wedding bells are set to ring. April Toddman, the darling of the Jordon’s retail dynasty, feels blessed. Her handsome, amiable fiancé, Kyle Clark, is passionate and shares her dreams. No couple could ask for a more promising future. And yet, just days before they are to exchange their marriage vows, their perfect world begins to crumble. Fate steps in and puts April and Kyle to the test. Will they successfully thread their way through the conflicting webs to secure their happiness?

With unfamiliar ground beneath their feet, April and Kyle must confront an unrelenting tsunami of obligations: to other—to their budding careers—and to themselves.

A child without a mother . . . A wedding without a honeymoon . . . A mother without a family . . . Beloved characters old and new weave secrets, mistakes, accidents, and lies into intricate webs of conflict as they strive to protect the generation of tomorrow.

Readers young and old will be held captive by the bold decisions these characters make to take charge of their destinies.

Read the entire Webs standalone series!
Webs of Fate
Webs of Power
Twisted Webs
Unpredictable Webs
Conflicting Webs

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greenleaf Book Group
• Release date: Apr 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781626341470

Book preview

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PROLOGUE

Britany Levin’s head throbbed. The walls in the cell-like room felt as if they were closing in. The sweltering heat zapped every ounce of her energy. Her mother’s unrelenting mantra thrummed through her aching head: "I only want what’s best for you. I only want what’s best for you. I only want …" That proverbial line was invariably followed by It hurts me even more than it hurts you.

Bullshit. Britany looked around at her little corner of this crummy, rundown condo complex. If she really gave a rat’s ass about me, she wouldn’t have allowed the courts to plant me clear out here in Brooklyn. No matter what Mom says, this is no more a part of Berkeley College than the tacky food cart down the block. Dad would go apeshit if he knew I’d been placed in this dingy off-campus facility. But even if she were allowed to call her dad, she wouldn’t. Not this time. She couldn’t bear another of his endless monologues on how she had once again disappointed him and how he knew she was capable of doing anything she set her mind to. Right …

Then again, anywhere was better than here. So, if he wasn’t out of the country somewhere, she supposed she would opt to put up with his litany. At the thought of spending another month in rehab—even one more day there, in the lap of hell—she started toying again with the idea of slashing her wrists. This time, I just might not screw up, she thought.

Sitting cross-legged atop her twin bed, Britany tugged the scrunchie from her thick mop of hair, gathered all the damp strands, pulled it back again, and managed to wind it back into the elastic band. She stared down at her unreliable computer. The Internet had become her lifeline—her solitary window to the outside world. It was all that kept her from slipping over the edge into total insanity.

Scrolling down the screen, she came to a stop at the headline of the New York Post society page and blinked once, twice, three times. The photo glaring from the backlit monitor hit her with the force of Hurricane Katrina. Her Sony laptop nearly fell to the floor.

Holy shit, she blurted out. So that’s why Mom couldn’t make it last weekend.

Her roommate glanced up from text messaging on her old Razr, a frown etched above the brow. What?

The whir of the giant fan, and the street noise below their open second-story window, swallowed Chloe’s words.

Balling her hands into tight fists, Britany shouted, Take a gander at this. She twisted the computer screen to face Chloe. It’s disgusting. Just look at that sappy grin on Mom’s face.

With a shrug, the pretty African American girl said, You told me you didn’t want to be bothered by visits every other week from your mom and the kid. Remember?

"But she’s my kid. My mother has no right …" And what the hell is she up to anyway? I had no idea she’d gotten so cozy with Kyle. But she’s … she’s … Britany’s breath caught in her throat. Pursing her lips, she pointed to the photo of her mother with Lindsay on her lap. How did Mom get herself invited to that snooty rich girl’s bridal shower? In utter frustration and rage, Britany shook as she said, "And she had the nerve to take my daughter with her!"

Cool it, Brit. Chloe paused a beat. Snooty rich girl? Do you even know her?

Britany shook her head and pointed to the screen. Says here that her dad is Mark Toddman.

So?

"Everyone knows he’s got beaucoup bucks. The Toddmans are in the news all the time. Sucking in her lower lip, she recalled seeing articles about the so-called Merchant Prince of Retail. He and his family were featured frequently in the business and society sections of several local and national newspapers. That guy’s as rich as Bill Gates. With an audible sigh, she tried to remember what she had read or heard. Toddman was the head honcho at—"

Chloe shot her a look. Never mind, Brit. What’s the big deal? You said you and this Kyle character were history. Besides, we sure don’t need a four-year-old messing up our plans.

Chloe wasn’t wrong. Britany and Kyle had no real history, only a one-night stand—and not even a whole night at that. But the paternity test had left no doubt that Kyle was her kid’s father. It’s just … Mom told me Kyle had moved to New York. You were here—remember? But she never said a word about—

Whoa. Every time your mom brought up Kyle’s name, you drowned her out with a chorus of la-la-la. You said all you wanted to hear about that bastard was that he sent his obligatory support check. Rolling her tongue across her lower lip, Chloe continued, I don’t get it. Why are you all shook up over this wedding? She paused, narrowing her dark-chocolate eyes. Oh, I get it. You don’t want him. You just don’t want someone else to have him!

Beads of sweat broke out on Britany’s forehead, and her hands were beginning to shake. But before she could think of a snappy retort, Chloe interrupted, switching back to her favorite subject these days: her friend who owned the Blew Sails, a dance club in the Bronx.

Ignoring her, Britany scrolled the mouse down the page, looking for a wedding date. Chloe might be uninterested in the details of the drama that had just landed in Britany’s lap, but for Britany this was just more proof that her mom had anything but her best interests in mind. If it hadn’t been for Mom, Lindsay would never have wormed her way into my lousy life, she thought. Gift from God, my ass.

As Chloe droned on about the great opportunity at the Blew Sails, Britany scanned the article once more. Holy shit, she shouted. It says here that Lindsay is even part of the bastard’s wedding party. Her heart thudded with wild anticipation until at last she spotted the wedding date: October 3—a week after she’d be released from rehab.

Britany felt as if her head would explode. Images and memories swirled in a maelstrom.

After the paternity test, Kyle wouldn’t even return her phone calls. His only correspondence had been a letter through snail mail. It stated that he had sought legal advice to determine the proper amount of monthly child support he should pay until the child reached eighteen or finished college. He had enclosed a check and said there was no need to go to court. Britany’s dad had his attorney, a longtime friend, look into it. Then she’d been told, Deposit the check. It’s unlikely we’d get more in court. Might even be less.

Still, the price Kyle had paid for their quickie was nothing compared to hers. I’ll be damned if I went through nineteen grueling hours of labor to gift him with a flower girl for his high-society wedding. Kyle Clark had totally screwed up her life.

Now it’s time for me to return the favor.

CHAPTER

1

As she drove past the well-manicured grounds of the familiar estate, April Toddman felt her breath catch in her throat. A kaleidoscope of treasured memories flashed through her mind. There was nowhere on earth she’d rather have her wedding. This was exactly the right place for her to become Mrs. Kyle Clark.

As if on cue, Taylor Swift’s Today Was a Fairytale drifted softly through the car speakers. Turning up the volume a notch to hear her new favorite song and vocalist, April thought, This pretty much sums up just how I feel.

While she knew life was not always a fairy tale, luck had certainly smiled on her over the past year. April knew she was truly blessed. The timing could not have been more ideal for all the positive life changes that had taken place. She and Kyle had followed their career paths from Chicago to Manhattan. At nearly the same time, her parents’ pathway had led them from Dallas back to the Greenwich home of her childhood. Serendipity? Fate? Kismet? She didn’t know how to label it, but it all felt so right.

Parking the Jaguar in the circular drive in front of her parents’ stately home, she was flooded with the most delicious sense of nostalgia. Her heart soared. How well things are falling into place, April thought. The stars looking down on us must be perfectly aligned.

Flipping off the ignition, she recalled Kyle’s remark: You’ve got to remember, I wasn’t brought up with one of those silver spoons in my mouth. April hoped he felt more at ease after she’d reminded him of her own humble beginnings.

Kyle knew, of course, that she was adopted and had not been born into wealth and privilege. While she had no memory of those first four years of her young life, she’d never forgotten how lucky she was. As a teenager she had not experienced the classic adoptee rebellion. Intuitively, she had known there was no reason to rebel. She could not have asked for a more fantastic childhood. It had been filled with laughter, dance, wonderful friendships, a loving extended family, and an unpredictable grandmother who made sure there was never a dull moment.

Sure, there had been a few bumps along that way. Moving from Greenwich to Plano, Texas, with her parents might have rocked her world, but in fact it had been only a slight hiccup since she was a UCLA student at the time and only home during school holidays. What had really turned her world upside down was the news of the kidnapping of a dear family friend four years before. The Taylor twins were just like younger sisters to April—fortunately the kidnapped twin had been returned unharmed. April didn’t know how Aunt Ashleigh and Uncle Conrad had coped with all that had been thrown in their path …

April shook her head. No time to think about that now. Turning her mind back to the present, she couldn’t imagine any better parents or role models than Paige and Mark Toddman. She refused to allow thoughts of what might have been her fate to spoil what her fate had become. She had no doubt: Someone must have been watching over her—that same someone who had brought Kyle into her life.

Sliding from behind the steering wheel, April tried to see her parents’ home through Kyle’s eyes and, perhaps even more so, through those of his family. This majestic estate can be a bit overwhelming. She wasn’t worried, though. Her mother had assured April that she and her father would put Kyle’s family at ease. They were really good at that, April knew. Besides, Kyle himself had agreed it would be a lot easier to have their wedding here than in some swanky Manhattan hotel.

She smiled as she recalled his choice of words. As a high-profile reporter in the TV news world, Kyle went into many so-called swanky hotels and grand estates to cover stories. He never looked out of place. No matter where he landed, he always fit in. She was so proud of him and couldn’t wait to become his wife—to become April Clark.

Unlike many of today’s young women, she had no desire to retain her maiden name—particularly not for business. April felt nothing but pride when she thought of her father and all he had accomplished. However, her success in the world of retail had nothing to do with any type of nepotism. Kyle’s big break at the CBA TV network in Manhattan had come at exactly the right time. It had given April the much-desired chance to change her career direction. She had loved her short stint as an apprentice at the JJQ TV news channel in Chicago. However, since last Christmas when her uncle, Conrad Taylor—who had taken the reigns as CEO of Jordon’s department store from her father—talked of his plans to expand their corporate giving sector, she had longed to be involved. So when Kyle’s career opportunity coincided with an opening for her dream job as a director of corporate giving at Jordon’s, she’d been over the moon.

She was even more delighted when she discovered that her office would be located in the landmark store of Carlingdon’s, the upscale division of the Jordon’s department store empire. The job was a perfect fit. She’d worked on worthwhile causes with her mom since she was very young, and she had made many wonderful connections with scores of charities.

But this was no time to be distracted by work. April smiled and put all that out of her mind for the time being. It won’t be long before I will be getting married to the man of my dreams.

Not bothering to pull her luggage from the trunk, she dashed up the front steps, hoping to surprise everyone with her early arrival. She was about to ring the bell when she noticed that the front door stood partially open. Stepping inside, she heard the tap-tap-tap of her heels echoing off the marble floor of the foyer. Other than her own breath and the barely noticeable whir of the air-conditioning, the house was still.

April headed straight to the kitchen at the rear of the house. It was totally empty. Where is everyone? She stopped and listened. The faint sound of voices wafted from some other room, and she headed toward the sound. Again crossing the foyer, a rising cacophony of excited voices propelled her down the hallway toward the library.

Nana’s voice rose above the others, exclaiming, You look good enough to eat.

April stood and watched the scene from the doorway of what the Toddmans called their family room. Nana had kicked off her shoes and sat in her stocking feet on the area rug. She was wearing an emerald-green St. John dress, the same color as her amazing eyes. Clapping her hands, she began humming, Here comes the bride.

No one noticed April’s arrival. Who can blame them? she said to herself, a joyful lump forming in her throat as she watched Kyle’s precious four-year-old daughter. Lindsay. She was the center of attention as she whirled around in the middle of the family gathering, oblivious to anything other than her snow-white double-layer flower girl dress. April had spotted the dress when she went to her first fitting in Carlingdon’s bridal department. The moment she laid eyes on it, she’d known it was just right for Lindsay. Paige Toddman agreed and had purchased it with all the trimmings, including a pair of black patent-leather Mary Janes.

Spinning on the toes of those very Mary Janes, Lindsay was the first to notice April. She stopped spinning, but did not immediately run to the bride-to-be.

April did not move closer. She simply knelt in the doorway so she would be on the same level with Lindsay’s large dark eyes and waited for Lindsay to come to her. You look beautiful, she said.

The little girl gave April a tentative smile. See my dress? she said, holding out the full skirt. Her voice was very soft.

I do, April said, remaining still. It’s almost as pretty as the little girl inside it. She paused and gave the little girl a thoughtful gaze. But it’s not quite right for one of our tea parties out in the playhouse, she said playfully.

Lindsay’s veil of shyness evaporated. You’re silly, she said, and she ran into April’s open arms. With that, everyone was suddenly talking at once. Slow down, April scolded with laughter in her voice. Let me catch my breath. Soon she was responding to the questions her family fired at her. I was able to get this week before the wedding off after all. Her eyes swept from her parents to Nana and came to rest on Wilma and Terrence, who had been with the family since April was a little girl. More than employees, they were like a second set of parents.

Lindsay wiggled out of April’s arms. Why didn’t Daddy come with you?

He had to work. But—

Before April could explain, Lindsay gave a little frown and said, Daddy always has to work. She did not skip a beat before adding, But he better be here for the wedding.

April smiled and parroted Lindsay’s expression. Well, silly, of course he will be. Otherwise, we can’t have a wedding. Then she turned to the adults to explain, Kyle had a late meeting but will be here in a couple hours.

Noticing her parents’ puzzled expressions, she continued, He couldn’t take all of next week off. He’ll need to drive back into the city on Sunday night, so he needs his own car. He’ll return a couple days before the wedding—in plenty of time for our rehearsal dinner.

Of course, darling, April’s mother said. Mark and Paige knew their future son-in-law well by now and couldn’t have been more understanding or supportive. They were well aware of the competition and pressure that Kyle faced in climbing his chosen career ladder.

Suddenly it dawned on April that Lindsay’s other grandmother was not in the room. She hoped Nora Levin wasn’t feeling ill. Although the attractive, friendly woman appeared to be the picture of health and vitality, Kyle and April were aware that she had very recently been diagnosed with lupus. Nora had downplayed the health issue, refusing to dwell on it. At first, Kyle had been concerned over the grandmother’s ability to care for his small child, but during every visit with Lindsay, he’d seen that she seemed to be healthy and happy. She loved her grandmother, and it was obvious that she was loved in return.

Where is Nora? April asked.

The room suddenly became stone silent.

Paige’s eyes met her daughter’s. She went to pick up her daughter. She did not elaborate.

A blade of ice shot up April’s spine. She had forgotten that Lindsay’s mother was due to be released from rehab. Nora had agreed to be there to pick Britany up. But something about this troubled April.

And take her where?

CHAPTER

2

Nora stomped on the brakes, sending her handbag toppling to the floor. Jerked back to the present with only seconds to spare, she barely avoided plowing into the side of the yellow school bus. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Get a grip, she told herself. Locked into her own thoughts, she hadn’t seen the traffic light, nor had she any idea when it had turned red. I’ve got to pull myself together.

Last night’s conversation with Britany had ignited a mother’s worst nightmare. Her daughter was set on causing trouble. No way. Mr. Kyle High-and-Mighty Clark is not having Lindsay in his posh wedding, she’d insisted. But surely keeping Lindsay from her father’s wedding would only deepen the barriers between the young mother and her daughter, further delaying the bonding Nora prayed for. I can’t allow Britany to break her little daughter’s heart. She would be hurting Lindsay more than Kyle. I must help her see that.

Nora had no illusions about her daughter. There would be no quick turnaround in regard to Britany’s feelings about Kyle. And yet she prayed that Lindsay would not become a victim of the animosity between her parents. Though prone to raging mood swings, Britany was not mean-spirited. She knew only too well that parents owed it to their child to work together. Nora shuddered, thinking about her own relationship with Britany’s father, a well-respected medical doctor who was, to put it diplomatically, prone to being overbearing.

Nora’s heart ached with the knowledge that she was utterly powerless to help her own child. Three months in rehab is not enough—not nearly enough. Britany’s borderline personality disorder had not been confirmed until she was out of her teens. While the diagnosis a few years ago had helped to explain much of her behavior, Britany had not followed through with the recommended psychotherapy. And her father wasn’t helping the situation much. While he claimed he accepted Britany’s diagnosis, he downplayed her need for professional help. He had a real blind spot when it came to his daughter, not to mention a fundamental distrust of what he called all that psychological mumbo jumbo.

No matter how painful the truth was, Nora knew, the whole family must accept it in order for Britany to have any chance of turning her life around. Nora was convinced that she and Britany’s father must make a united stand—they must be strong and stand together, on this matter if on nothing else. If only she could convince her former husband to work with her on getting Britany into the crucial psychotherapy that could make such a difference in her life …

No one could doubt that Dr. Howard Levin loved his daughter, but he tended to discount the advice of others—particularly his ex-wife’s. Maddening as that was, it was nothing new to Nora. Howard was an intelligent man, or at least Nora had always thought he was, and yet when confronted by the New York Police Department’s proof that Britany had tested positive for drug use, he’d not only discounted those results, but he’d also hired an attorney. Together they had built a wall of lies to shield Britany from facing the consequences of her behavior. The overwhelming evidence presented in court before she was sentenced to rehab should have left no doubt that she’d been guilty of drug use—not in any rational mind, anyway. However, Howard’s attorney had claimed in court and before the judge that Britany’s prescription medications for BPD and the Sudafed she’d taken for a bad cold had produced a false positive.

If only Howard had not interfered with Britany’s original twelvemonth rehab sentence. If only he would stop rescuing their daughter. If only he would stop enabling her to continue on her path of self-destruction. If only he wouldn’t invariably step in, shielding Britany from the consequences of her bad choices. If only … if only … if only!

After Britany had gone through yet another red light and been picked up a second time for driving under the influence, Dr. Levin’s high-priced lawyer had managed to get her criminal incarceration commuted to a rehab sentence that was significantly reduced in length. Not that Nora wanted to see Britany in prison—the very thought of her vulnerable daughter behind bars had left her weak and distressed. She knew, however, that something must be done to stop her daughter, whom she loved so dearly, from continuing on this downhill spiral.

Nora was far from thinking she had all the answers, but still she’d been thankful that Howard was out of the country when Britany was moved from a Queens holding cell to the rehab facility in Brooklyn. If he’d been available, he’d have done all in his power to have their troubled daughter transferred instead to the upscale rehab facility close to his medical practice. Nora doubted that the facility’s luxurious atmosphere would’ve done her daughter much good.

In Howard’s absence, Nora had visited Berkeley Terrace before Britany’s move. She had judged it to be clean, with a competent and caring staff. She had thoroughly studied the quality of the individual and group therapists and was delighted to discover that Dr. James Armour, a firstrate psychotherapist, worked in the facility pro bono every other week. Having discovered that BPD affects 2 percent of the population, Nora was not surprised to learn that others in this facility had been diagnosed with, and were being treated for, some degree of personality disorder.

Plus, Berkeley Terrace allowed its patients no access to cell phones or the Internet for their first month, in order to help them break unhealthy ties and habits. Since nothing she’d tried so far had worked, Nora had hoped that the lack of luxury might force Britany to take a good, hard look at her life—her past as well as her future. With proper guidance from someone outside the family, and with time to consider the choices she’d made in the past, as well as their consequences, Britany might begin to change her ways. Nora prayed it wasn’t too late. After all, her daughter was only twenty-three. She had her whole life ahead of her.

An image of Britany at Lindsay’s age flashed through Nora’s mind. She could almost feel the texture of the tiny fabric doll that Britany had slept with every night. As a little girl she’d carried that small doll in its fuzzy blue one-piece outfit wherever she went. Nora felt her insides shred as she recalled the sparkle in little Britany’s hazel eyes the time she’d looked up at her and laid her most favorite possession in the whole world in her mother’s hands. Here, Mommy, she’d said. Happy Birthday.

Nora brushed unbidden tears from her cheeks. Where is that little girl with the generous, giving heart? The little girl who called herself Brit … tany? Perhaps somewhere deep inside …

Mixed in with her longing for the daughter she had known was a certain guilt. Nora couldn’t help but feel that she and Howard were partly to blame. They had divorced before Britany was three. Irritated by a number of perceived injustices, Howard had been an unhappy man: unhappy with his upbringing, unhappy with the direction of his career, unhappy with Nora and their marriage. At first, Nora had been devastated, yet it was clear that she and Howard were all wrong for each other. In the end, she was the one who had given up on their marriage.

She was left with no desire to mend the relationship, but she had no idea why Howard had remained so hostile over the past twenty years—especially considering that he had been so unhappily married to her. While she had no desire to spend any extended time in his company, she bore him no ill will. Nor did she have any trouble in being civil, particularly when it came to the welfare of their daughter. If only he would set his own hostility aside. Another damn if only.

The sign for the Adams Street turnoff came into view, cutting off further thoughts of her ex-husband. Nosing her aging Honda Accord to the right, Nora sighed. The frequent treks from Queens to the facility had run their course. This would be her last.

She’d visited almost every weekend that she’d been allowed. At first, Britany’s hostility had been hard to take. Although Nora had grown used to her daughter’s inflated sense of entitlement and her insistence on portraying herself as the victim, it still wasn’t easy to deal with. She hated being forever cast as the villain. Why are you always putting me down? was Britany’s response to Nora’s every suggestion. Nora had been tiptoeing around her daughter’s ego for what seemed a very long time, avoiding any mention of what Britany should have or should not have done. Clearly, what had been done could not be undone—and Nora kept this understanding at the forefront of her mind at all times. But obviously, regardless of the care she took in choosing her words, in Britany’s eyes she was doing something very wrong. Even when Britany surfaced a problem, Nora seemed unable to phrase possible solutions in a way that was acceptable to her daughter.

Once again, she tried to think how she might have handled things differently, scanning her memory for issues over the past year. Try as she might, however, she honestly did not know what else she should have done. She was at a loss. When Britany had complained of overdraft fees, what could Nora have done other than offer to help Britany balance her checkbook? Nor could she understand why it was a putdown to ask whether choosing an alarm clock with a louder ring and flashing lights might solve the problem Britany claimed to be having with her unreliable alarm.

Whether Britany’s distorted views were a result of BPD or drug abuse, Nora prayed that she would find a way to help her daughter distinguish between reality and her own misperceptions.

In Nora’s opinion, Britany’s lack of maternal bonding with Lindsay was the most troubling issue of all. Nora loved her little granddaughter with every fiber of her being. Lindsay had become the center of Nora’s universe, and she loved caring for her. But Britany was the girl’s mother. What a shame it would be if Britany missed out on one of life’s greatest gifts: love and shared memories with her own daughter. Didn’t she know that every day, every moment was precious?

A jolt of anguish jarred Nora as she recalled her recent visit to her physician. The diagnosis of lupus had sent Nora reeling. Although she’d heard of the disease, she knew little about it. Even Dr. Zarkos had been unable to predict the exact degree to which it was affecting her immune system, though he had informed Nora that lupus was the cause of her recent bouts of pleurisy. He’d followed up by giving her a laundry list of other possible complications brought about by this horrible disease. Her blood had turned cold, and she’d inadvertently tuned out. Even though the doctor told her that symptoms varied from person to person, her mind had shot to the worst-case scenario. More than anything else, she feared not being there for her precious granddaughter. I’ve got to take care of myself, she thought now. I must not allow lupus to rear its ugly head and destroy our lives.

This one thought, and its serious implications, dominated Nora’s mind as she approached the rehab facility. She was the one who was there for Lindsay day and night, who took her to daycare and to the doctor, who tended to all the tasks expected of a mother of a small child. And yet she could no longer predict what the future had in store for her.

If something happens to me, who will look after Lindsay?

CHAPTER

3

When it came to caring for Lindsay, there was no one but Nora. She could not see Britany stepping into the role of mother anytime in the near future. Maybe she never would. If she was being honest with herself, Nora doubted that the scant three months of intervention and treatment at Berkeley Terrace had made much of an impact on her daughter. Britany had nothing positive to say about any of the classes and sessions she’d taken part in—and nothing good to say about the facility or the staff.

Reflecting on her daughter’s pessimism and belligerence, Nora’s thoughts turned to the ever-present but unanswerable question: How had Britany become this way? She had followed a rocky road since dropping out of Queensborough Community College and following her loser boyfriend to Las Vegas. Howard had hired a PI who’d located her working as a pole dancer in a low-class bar. By then the boyfriend was out of the picture, yet Britany hadn’t wanted to return to Queens. To entice their daughter to return, Howard had pulled some strings to get her back into Queensborough Community College and had bought her a two-bedroom condo not far from his office. Though it was in a nice neighborhood, somehow Britany had fallen in with a dangerous set of friends.

Soon after her move back to New York, she again dropped out of college. Her father had given her a job at his office, but she failed to show up on a regular basis. And after making just a few of the small rent payments Howard had written into the contract she’d had to sign before he would purchase the condo, Britany had stopped making any attempt to pay. Whatever money she’d made from haphazardly working in her father’s office or from any other of her intermittent jobs, she had spent on … Don’t go there, Nora chided herself.

Thinking about Britany returning to that condo her father had bought for her, to that neighborhood where she had been using drugs, twisted Nora’s stomach into knots. It also renewed her resolve. Britany simply must come home with me, at least for the first few weeks.

As she scanned the area looking for a parking spot in front of the Berkeley Terrace complex, Nora spotted Britany and Chloe emerging from the entrance with suitcases in tow. She pulled into the loading zone, her heart beginning to beat a wild tattoo. Would the two roommates bid their good-byes now? Britany’s probation officer had strongly recommended that she not associate with any of the other women of Berkeley Terrace within the first six months of her release. Nora was hoping to convince Britany to come home with her and get to know her little girl. Please, Britany, please …

As Nora watched them get closer and closer, her heart dropped in her chest. Both young women were headed straight to her car.

CHAPTER

4

April did not know much about Nora Levin’s troubled daughter—only that the young woman was Lindsay’s mother. For the time being, she ignored the awkward silence that followed Paige’s response as to Nora’s whereabouts. Willfully, April turned her thoughts and energy to the vivacious but sometimes shy four-year-old.

When April had first laid eyes on Kyle’s little surprise package, she’d felt an inadvertent tug at her heartstrings—a tug that she’d been able to resist mainly because of the infrequency of their visits from Chicago to Queens, where Lindsay lived with her grandmother. Although Kyle and April often said they would love to see more of Lindsay, she really had no place in their busy lives. They wanted a family of their own, but not now—not until both of their careers were on firm ground. April had felt fortunate: Kyle had fulfilled a financial responsibility for Lindsay, the product of his regrettable one-night stand, but had expressed no desire to bring the girl into their daily lives.

All that had changed, however, since their move to New York. The frequency of their visits with Lindsay had gradually increased. Even more than Kyle, April was the one who managed to carve out time in their schedules to see Lindsay each month. That inexplicable tug she’d first felt grew stronger and stronger over time. She could no longer deny that the girl had captured her heart. Although it made no sense at this point in their lives, April wished that Kyle’s daughter were truly a part of their family.

Now, looking at Lindsay in her darling flower girl outfit, April swallowed hard. Lindsay is not mine. She doesn’t really even belong to Kyle. What am I thinking? When did my brain turn to mush? In her work life as well as her personal life, April always seemed to have her feet firmly planted here on earth. But this precious thirty-pound gift had somehow shifted the ground beneath her feet.

Even if a new arrangement were possible, April could imagine the havoc that caring for a small child would cast on a new marriage. Their plans would be destined for failure before they even began. So, get over it, she commanded her thoughts.

Britany gestured for her mother to open the trunk. She and Chloe waited with their belongings at the back of the Honda. The trunk did not open.

Glancing to her mother still sitting in the driver’s seat, Britany saw that she was motioning for her to come to the car window. Holy shit, Britany thought. What now?

Chloe stood stock-still beside her, arms folded over her chest. Heaving a heavy sigh, she asked, Trouble?

Britany squinted at her roommate, saying, Don’t worry. Mom’s a stickler for the guidelines. She turns them into rules. She shook her head. But I can handle it. She’s not about to turn us in.

Trudging to the front of the car, Britany took in a long breath. Look, Mom. Give me a break.

Don’t I need to sign you out? Nora asked.

I’m over eighteen, Britany replied, waving some papers in her mother’s face. We’ve taken care of all the bureaucratic red tape. If you don’t believe me, ask Dad. Her glance shot to the backseat of the Honda. Lindsay’s car seat was empty. Where’s Lindsay? When her mother did not immediately answer, Britany felt her temperature rise. Where is my daughter?

Lindsay is safe. She is at—

She better not be with that son of a—

Britany, her mother interrupted. I would really love to have you come home with me for a few days. There are a lot of things we have to talk over.

Shaking with rage, Britany said, Lindsay is with Kyle and his snobby, high-society bride. Isn’t she? Not waiting for a response, she raised her voice another octave. How dare you? You are not the boss of Lindsay. I am her mother. I hope you told them they will have to produce their own flower girl. They can’t have my daughter.

Britany, please. Let’s drop Chloe off, and we will talk.

There nothing to talk about. Besides, Chloe’s coming to my condo.

Britany, please.

Britany, please, she parroted. No way am I coming to your house, and no way is Lindsay going to be in Kyle Clark’s fucking wedding.

Britany, her mother said, her raised eyebrow telegraphing her thoughts.

"What, Mom? Does my cursing offend you? What about me? What were you thinking?" Her mother looked like she might cry. That’s her problem. "How could you even be around the guy who fu—who messed up my life? Let alone be part of his—"

Get in the car. I’ll take you to the condo, her mother said, in that pitiful resigned tone Britany knew so well. We’ll talk tomorrow. However, I do hope Chloe has made arrangements for the future. This is your first night out of rehab, and you are already breaking the rules.

Guidelines, Mom. Guidelines. Britany took a deep breath. I really don’t want to deal with this tonight, she thought, and yet, I better not totally piss Mom off. She certainly wasn’t ready to get her father involved. She wondered if she should tell her mother that Chloe didn’t have anywhere else to go. Suddenly, she had a better idea. I really don’t ever want to go back in rehab. Neither does Chloe. So we decided to stay together so we can help each other avoid temptation. It was a lie, but she thought it sounded pretty good.

Britany, Nora said, keeping her voice low, I hate to sound like a prude, but you know it’s against your—

Mrs. Levin, came a soft, melodic tone. Chloe, all decked out in Spandex from neck to ankle, stood now at Britany’s elbow. Brit and I really want to go straight. I know that’s what you want, too. We’ve talked about how hard it is, though. And with so many temptations, we don’t think it’s in our best interest to avoid hanging out with anyone from Berkeley Terrace. After all, we know exactly what each of us is going through.

I understand Chloe, but—

Britany’s eyes flashed back and forth between her mother and Chloe. Her roommate was one of those people who could sell ice in Alaska, but she wasn’t sure her mom was buying.

Mom, Britany broke in. I don’t think I can stand being alone. I don’t want to go clubbing, but I know … Don’t oversell, she reminded herself, and changed tactics. No one will know about Chloe staying at my condo unless you tell them. Before her mother could speak, she continued, If you can take us to the grocery store, we’ll stock up on some good healthy stuff—the food in this place was awful. She snuck a peek at Chloe before adding, That way, we won’t be so tempted to go clubbing or, you know, hit the streets.

Nora wanted to believe her daughter, but she knew she could take nothing Britany said at face value. When not in an all-out rage, her daughter had a knack for sounding reasonable—sounding as if she had it all together. But Nora knew that Britany invariably said what she knew the other person wanted to hear—and that she seldom followed through. From the time Britany was just a little girl, she had lied more often than she told the truth. She lied even when there was no reason to do so.

And yet Britany was no longer a child. Her mother couldn’t force her to come home without her friend instead of going to her condo. Unless Nora promised she would tell no one that the girls were violating their parole guidelines, she feared her daughter might refuse to get in the car at all. And Nora couldn’t just leave them here. Besides, Britany would just call her father, and Nora knew he would arrange to have the girls picked up and taken to the condo.

She sighed and unlocked the doors. Alright, girls. I will take you to the store and then to the condo. Directing her eyes toward Chloe, she said, You girls can spend your first couple of nights together, but Chloe, it would be best if you found somewhere else to stay. Somewhere—

Geez, Mom, Britany said. "No matter what I do, you put me down. You make it sound like I’m stupid. Do you think I want to get in trouble? She swung open the rear door. You’ll never trust me, will you? And now you’re even putting my friend down. Climbing into the car, she muttered sarcastically under her breath, Maybe you should just drop us off at the Egyptian Coffee Shop, where we can smoke hookah and make some really good new friends."

CHAPTER

5

At the Toddman estate, Kyle dashed up the front steps with two huge bouquets tucked under one arm. Though he was considerably later than planned, thanks to the Friday evening traffic streaming out of the city, he’d updated April regularly by text. A smile formed on his lips as he thought of how that young flower seller had turned the bumper-to-bumper traffic to her advantage. Some sort of fender bender had turned the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge into a parking lot for a good half hour—a stroke of luck for the street peddler. Her My Fair Lady routine had charmed many disgruntled commuters, resulting in a total sell-out of her supply of beautifully wrapped bouquets. If Kyle hadn’t purchased her only two remaining wraps, she could easily have sold him one more.

Pausing just short of ringing the bell, Kyle turned to watch the rapidly approaching headlights snaking up the drive. As they grew near, he saw that it was Nora Levin’s Accord. He waited on the veranda so they could enter the house together, but before Nora had parked her car, the mansion’s massive front doors flew open and he was greeted by April’s smiling face.

Another fetching flower girl has captured your heart, it seems, she teased as she reached for the bouquets. She held one in each hand, a question furrowing her brow.

Kyle grinned. The other one is for your foxy grandmother.

April gave her fiancé a quick peck on the cheek and then looked around him to greet Nora, who was slowly heaving herself up the stone steps. She looked exhausted, as though she bore the weight of the world.

Kyle took hold of her elbow and guided her inside the Toddman home. Is everything alright? he asked.

Nora forced a smile to her parched lips but was sure she fooled no one. A little tired, she replied. It was true—just not the whole truth. She did not

Reviews for Conflicting Webs

[arlenadean · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Title: Conflicting WebsAuthor: Darlene QuinnPublisher: Greenleaf Book Group PressReviewed By: Arlena DeanRating: FiveReview:"Conflicting Webs" by Darlene QuinnMy Thoughts...."Conflicting Webs" was the perfect title for this suspenseful intriguing fictional read that was about April who was marrying Kyle. Now you would think with all of the planning that April had done...the wedding would go smoothly however, that was not to be. Why? Issues and much conflict comes from the right and left from Brittany[Kyle's baby mama] who happened to not want their daughter[Lindsay] to be in his wedding. Be ready for a plot that will have some twist and turns as the conflict will pull you into all the drama of it all and will definitely will keep you turning the pages to see what will be coming next, The characters were off the chart...being well developed, defined, portrayed and believable helping to give the reader a spellbound suspenseful and emotional story. The title: 'Conflicting Web' really lives up to it name because there many conflicting commitments in this novel. So, if you are ready for a engaging wonderful story where you maybe caught in the web of it all, then I would recommend this read to you.I received a copy through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[lst0222 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Sometimes you sit down to read a book and are so drawn in, you feel as though you’ve come home. Rarely do I find an author with this ability and Darlene Quinn now joins my short list. I’m amazed at how she kept so many characters, with such diverse (yet connected) stories on track in a way that makes sense. I now find that there are 4 more books in Quinn’s Web Series that I want to read – this time in order. I love Conflicting Webs and can’t wait to delve into the others to learn the back story of these fascinating characters. Conflicting Webs is a great read that I will recommend to everyone. ~ Linda Thompson, Host of TheAuthorsShow.com