Park Avenue Secrets: Marriage, Manhattan Style. Barbara Dunlop
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sofa faced a curved bank of windows that showed off the brilliant orange sunset over the ocean. A storm was forecast overnight, and Jean-Louis was reluctantly whipping up a gourmet pizza so they could dine casually.
Let it rain, and let the waves blow in. Reed was looking forward to a cozy evening with his fabulous wife. It was their last evening in France. Elizabeth didn’t know it yet, but the jet was already on its way to the Biarritz airport.
“Why can’t it always be like this?” she asked.
“Sunset?”
“I mean, us. Together. No worries, no problems.”
Reed couldn’t help but smile at her wistful voice. “Well, for one thing, we’d run out of money.”
She straightened to look at him, curling her legs beneath her in slim jeans and a loose, sea-green sweater. “Would we?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe we could sell off a few companies. Or maybe you could hire a manager to run them?”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Everything in his conglomerate was interconnected. It was also interconnected with his father’s companies. Wellington International as a whole was worth a lot more than the sum of its parts.
“Then, how does it work?” she asked.
Reed wasn’t sure how to explain the complexities of his job.
“The companies depend on each other,” he told her. “And someone needs to watch out for the big picture.”
“What about Collin?”
“Collin has his own job. He can’t do mine, too.”
She harrumphed out a sigh. “I think you’re getting too puffed up with your own importance. They didn’t miss you this week.”
“A week’s not very long.” And he’d been monitoring quite a number of things via his laptop and cell phone.
“I like spending time together,” she said.
“I like spending time together, too.”
There was a light rap on the door. “Mr. Wellington?”
“Yes?”
The solid door creaked open, revealing one of the housemen. “A phone call for you, sir.”
“Obviously something important,” Elizabeth sassed.
“Obviously,” he agreed, giving her shoulder a quick rub before getting up from the sofa. He was keeping his cell phone turned off most of the time, and he’d asked the office not to contact him through the chateau unless there was an emergency.
This better be good.
The uniformed man pointed to a telephone in the corner of the room, and Reed perched himself on a tiny, French provincial chair.
“Hello?”
“Reed, it’s Mervin Alrick calling.”
Reed was shocked to hear Elizabeth’s father’s voice. “Mr. Alrick?”
Elizabeth swiveled her head to look at Reed, brows knitting together in a question.
Reed shrugged in answer.
“I’m afraid—” Mervin cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m calling to give you some terrible news.”
Reed’s chest tightened in dread, his thoughts going to Elizabeth’s mother. “Yes?” he asked slowly.
Elizabeth leaned forward, cocking her head, a look of concern growing on her face.
“It’s Brandon.”
“Brandon?”
Elizabeth came to her feet.
“Brandon and Heather were in a car accident on the coast.”
“Are they okay?” Reed reached for Elizabeth, and she moved forward to take his hand.
“What?” she whispered.
Reed gave his head a little shake, concentrating on the call.
“I’m afraid—” Mervin cleared his throat again.
“Mr. Alrick?”
“They’ve died.”
Reed felt like he’d been sucker punched. “They?”
“Both of them.” Mervin’s voice broke, while Reed pulled Elizabeth against him.
Watching his expression, her eyes had gone wide with fear.
“You’ll tell Elizabeth,” Mervin rasped.
“Yes. Of course. We’ll be there as soon as possible. And Lucas?”
“Is fine. He was with his babysitter.”
“My jet’s in France. We’ll go straight to San Diego.”
“Yes … well …” Mervin was clearly struggling for control.
“We’ll call you soon.” Reed disconnected.
“Reed?” Elizabeth’s voice was paper dry.
He turned to face her, bracing one hand on each of her shoulders.
“Why do we have to go to—”
“It’s Brandon,” said Reed, hating what he was about to do to her. “He was killed in a car accident today.”
Elizabeth shook her head in denial. “No. No. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Heather was killed, too.”
Elizabeth took a step back, still shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Brandon was her only sibling, and she’d adored him.
“It can’t be,” she whispered, even as her eyes welled up with tears.
Reed stepped forward and pulled her back into his arms. She struggled against both his touch and the cruel reality of the situation. “No. No. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.”
“I need to get hold of Collin.” Even as he rocked her, Reed reached for the phone. “He’ll contact the jet and make arrangements.”
Elizabeth let out a low, keening moan that nearly broke Reed’s heart.
“We have to get to California,” he told her firmly. “Lucas needs us.”
She stilled, looking up. “Lucas?”
“Lucas is fine. He’s with a babysitter. But we need to get to him.”
She gave a jerky nod, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Reed wrapped one arm firmly around her shoulders, and used the other hand to dial Collin.
Eight
Elizabeth moved through the next week in a state of shock, picking up Lucas, consoling her parents, attending the funeral in California.
Thankfully, Reed handled the legalities of the will. While her brother had named her as Lucas’s guardian, he had named Reed executor of the estate. Between Reed and Collin, she needed only to sign papers and direct the packing up of Lucas’s things.
She briefly met with Heather’s parents after the funeral. They were nearly paralyzed with grief. They barely spoke, but held Lucas as long as possible, clearly struggling with the fact he was moving to New York.
Finally, she was back in the penthouse. Lucas’s nursery was set up and decorated, and he was settling into a routine with Elizabeth. He still seemed sad and confused at times, but started crawling around the apartment, pulling up on furniture and showing Elizabeth how many changes she’d have to make to protect both Lucas