Family Secrets. Ruth Dale Jean
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“He wouldn’t, so I quit.”
“Because...?” She gestured, palm up, for him to explain.
“I wanted to try something else.” All of a sudden he looked uneasy. “I’m opening a restaurant in the Quarter with a friend.”
“Oh, come on, Dev. You expect me to believe that?” It made no sense. “If you wanted to go into the restaurant business, you could have worked at Chez Charles.”
“That’s just it, I couldn’t.” His gaze caught and held hers. “It was my first thought—family loyalty and the whole thing. Lyons stick together no matter what.” He grimaced. “Fortunately Alain wouldn’t allow it.”
Confused by the feeling she was missing something, she frowned. “Alain? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call your stepfather that before. You always called him Dad.”
“Yeah, but now that I’m all grown up I call him Alain.” He said it flippantly, adding, “I quit my job at WDIX and Alain wouldn’t hire me at Chez Charles, so there you have it. I’ve gone my own way and I’ve got to say I like it.”
“This is weird.” She shook her head. “Everybody in the family works at one or the other of the Lyon enterprises—except me of course. Even Leslie got suckered in to help with the fiftieth anniversary thing.”
“Now there’s two of us,” he said shortly. “Let’s change the subject. How come you’re living on just what you make as a reporter? I find it hard to believe you can’t afford to furnish your apartment or eat where you choose. The Sharlee I knew wouldn’t take that for five minutes.”
The comment hurt, even though once it would probably have been true.
Okay, would most assuredly have been true. “I don’t care if you believe it or not,” she said, “but it’s true. I want to make it on my own.”
“Yeah?” His handsome face creased in a frown. “Even so, why would you go so far as to deny your Lyon connections? You are what you were born into. We all are.”
“Because...because...” She wanted to tell him about the trust fund she’d been denied on her twenty-first birthday and how diminished she’d felt. But when push came to shove, she just didn’t trust him enough.
So she lifted her chin and met his curious gaze defiantly. “I was sick and tired of having so many bosses,” she said. “Everybody thought they knew better than I did what to do with my life. I felt smothered. Besides—” she grimaced “—I always get so defensive when I’m around my family. All that perfection just naturally wears down an ordinary person.”
“Perfection?” His brows rose. “Your family is far from per—”
He caught himself but not in time. What had he been about to say?
“If they aren’t perfect, they’ve done a great job of keeping their vices secret,” she said. She waited for him to respond; when he didn’t, she pursed her lips in disapproval. “Okay, what is it you’re not telling me? What do you know about my family that I don’t?”
“Nothing.” He laid his napkin beside his plate. “Well, maybe one thing. Sharlee, your grandfather’s health isn’t as good as you think it is.”
Her stomach clenched at the possibility he might be telling the truth, then reason asserted itself. “Grandmère just told you that to talk you into coming all this way,” she said. “I saw Grandpère in July and he looked great.”
“I hope you’re right.” Dev looked genuinely concerned. “In case you’re not, your grandmother wants him surrounded by all his loved ones, and that includes you. Is it too much to ask?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. Give it up, Dev. I won’t be manipulated like this.” But she felt a twinge when she said it. What if she was wrong?
“Dammit, Sharlee!” For the first time his poise slipped. “Whatever your complaints and grudges against your family, you owe them some consideration. They’re not a hundred percent wrong, you know. Life isn’t all black and white.”
“It is to me,” she shot back. “If they’d treat me like an adult, maybe. But that hasn’t happened so I’m not going back.” She stood up. “I don’t want to argue with you. I’m ready to leave if you are.” For a minute she thought he was going to argue. Then he, too, rose. “Whatever you say,” he agreed in a tight voice that wasn’t an agreement at all.
ALL THAT PERFECTION just naturally wears down an ordinary person.
He thought about her words on the drive down the mountain; he might as well brood because she wasn’t talking. Eventually it occurred to him that she was right about one thing: the family had kept her in the dark about their oh-so-very-human failings.
But she’d been their baby for a long time, right up until Andy-Paul’s birth. Did the middle child feel as if her place had been usurped by her parents’ midlife baby? She’d been spoiled before Andy-Paul; was she simply jealous now?
Somehow he didn’t think so. There were many Lyon-family secrets, things known by some, but not talked about. Had Sharlee’s family deliberately excluded her from that knowledge?
“we’re there.”
She spoke, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him. He pulled to the curb but reached across to stop her from jumping out. She turned a rebellious face toward him.
“May I come in for a drink?”
He was sure she’d refuse him. He saw “no!” in her face, saw her lips moving to form the word.
And heard her say carelessly, “Sure, why not? Even us poor folk can afford to keep a bottle of cheap vodka around.”
He could hardly believe it when she led him inside the building.
DURING THE DRIVE HOME, questions had trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she’d bitten them back. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her plead for explanations.
Besides, there probably weren’t any. He couldn’t possibly know more about her side of the family than she did, even though she’d been gone for such a long time.
She knew all the important stuff: how her great-grandfathers, Alexandre Lyon and Wendell Hollander, had started the radio station together; how Alexandre’s two sons, Paul and Charles, had been drawn into the business while their sister, Justine, was left out entirely; how Paul Lyon had married Margaret Hollander and carried on the family dynasty.
Sharlee’s grandparents had seen the opportunities and launched the television station in 1949 while Charles took over the radio side. Twenty-five years later, Sharlee’s mother, Gabrielle, had met the heir, André, and fallen in love.
It had all been sweetness and light and smooth sailing, as far as anyone had ever indicated to Sharlee, everyone doing their duty while leading exemplary lives of public and private service. It raised her blood pressure just thinking about it. Hadn’t anyone ever wanted to kick up their heels?
Or maybe it was sitting next to the man who’d done her wrong that was raising her blood pressure. Because something was sure making her palms damp and her chest tight.
So when Dev asked if he could come in for a drink, she was all set to turn him down cold when she realized that would be a cowardly response. She was his equal now, a grown woman, instead of a starry-eyed kid. She didn’t have to run and hide from Dev; she could meet him and beat him at his own game.
Whatever the hell that was.
Once inside her apartment, she mixed a couple of vodka-and-tonics, then pointed him to the love seat, misnamed piece of furniture that it was. She herself perched