Somebody to Love

“Got anything else?” George asked, already glancing at his watch.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said. “How’s this? A band of child angels are sent to earth to teach kids about God. Right? They haven’t earned their wings, though, so they roller-skate everywhere—they’re the Holy Rollers. Do you love it? All they eat is angel food cake, and they live in a tree fort called Eden, and whenever a regular kid is up against a tough moral decision, in come the Holy Rollers and the preaching begins.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s The Crippled Lamb meets The Little Rascals meets The Exorcist.” She sighed and stood up. “Well, thanks for your time, George. Good to see you.”

“Hang on,” he said.

The next week, she’d had an offer and a contract, and she and Suze, her old roomie from Miss Porter’s School, had come to Grayhurst to celebrate, eat whatever Harry’s chef felt like cooking them, swim in the indoor pool and laugh at life’s ironies. The second night, they’d gone to Lenny’s, the local bar, and there was Ethan Mirabelli, who’d flirted with them equally, despite Suze being gay and built like a professional wrestler. When Ethan had asked for Parker’s phone number, Suze had given her a heavy elbow to the ribs, her way of indicating approval. And the rest, as they say, was history.

Parker and Lucy took their goodies into the front room and were laughing over Lucy’s in-laws’ propensity for dropping by during certain intimate moments. “It’s like they know,” Lucy said. “Honestly, some days I think they have the apartment bugged.”

“They might,” Parker agreed. Her phone rang, and Parker glanced at the screen “Oh, speaking of difficult parents, it’s my mother. I bet she has a husband for me.”

“Goody! Put her on speaker so I can hear, too!” Lucy clapped like a little kid.

Parker clicked on. “Hi, Mom.”

“Darling, I have someone for you!” Althea Harrington Welles Etc. Etc. sang out.

Parker pulled a face for Lucy. “Hooray! Don’t even worry about us meeting—just start planning the wedding.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, haven’t you heard? Anyway, his name is…oh, well, I don’t remember. But his last name is Gorman, as in Senator Gorman from Virginia? His father. Those charges were dropped, by the way. Isn’t it exciting, sweetheart? I’m thinking The Caucus Room for your engagement announcement party, the National Cathedral for your wedding, reception at the senator’s home on the Chesapeake. It’s stunning. I looked it up on Google Earth.”

“Just tell me when to show up in the big white dress.”

“Can I be matron of honor?” Lucy whispered.

“Definitely. Mom, Lucy’s here.”

“Lucy?”

“My best friend?”

“I’m aware, dear. Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mrs.—um…Althea,” Lucy said.

“Lucy, maybe you can make her take this seriously. She’s so obsessed with that child, she hasn’t noticed she’s getting old! Honestly, my only daughter, never married.”

“It’s awful,” Lucy concurred, grinning. “I tried to fix her up with my mute assistant at the bakery, but she said no to him, too.”

“I’d rather date Jorge than a senator’s kid,” Parker said. “His tattoos are amazing. That one of the crucifixion? So lifelike.”

“Fine. Make fun of me, girls. Oh, did you see my Facebook? I’m auditioning for Real Housewives out here. Maury thinks it’s a great idea.”

Parker mimicked a scream, then said, “That’s great, Mom. So you think you might come visit next month?”

“I’m not sure yet. Maury has this thing. How’s Nicky?”

“He misses you,” Parker said, playing the guilt card.

“Well, you kiss that beautiful boy for me, all right? And seriously, sweetheart, think about the Gorman heir. I hate to think of you in that hideous old house, all alone except for your toddler.”

“He’s five and a half, Mom.”

“Oh. Well, when does one stop being a toddler? Anyway, it’s not my point. My point is— Oops! Maury’s ringing in. Kisses to my grandson! Nice to hear your voice, Lisa. Bye, Parker! Talk soon!”

“Bye, Mom.” Parker sighed. “More wine, Lisa?”

Lucy laughed. “I like your mom.”

“I’d like to see her more, that’s for sure,” Parker grumbled.

Just as they’d finished their first glass of wine and were debating on whether to Google the Old Spice man or Ryan Gosling, they heard the crunch of tires on the long gravel driveway. “Think Nicky forgot something?” Lucy asked, going to the window and pushing back the silk drapes. “Eesh! It’s your father. And his entourage.”

“Oh, bugger and damn. Do we have time to hide?”

“I think I’m allowed to hide,” Lucy said. “You probably have to say hi.”

“Don’t you dare go anywhere,” Parker ordered.

A flare of nervousness—her trademark reaction to Daddy Dearest—flashed through her stomach. Almost automatically, she smoothed her hair and glanced down at her attire. Since she’d been at Nicky’s school as Parker Welles, Author, rather than Nicky’s Mom, she’d dressed up a little…beige silk shirt, ivory pencil skirt, the fantabulous leopard-print shoes. Good. A little armor.

She joined Lucy at the window and looked out. The driver of the limo opened the back door, and Harry Welles emerged into the sunlight, followed closely by Thing One and Thing Two, his minions.

Technically, Grayhurst was Harry Welles’s home, though he lived in a sleek and sterile duplex on Manhattan’s East Side. He only came to Rhode Island to impress clients or when he couldn’t avoid a family event. He was the third generation to run Welles Financial, once a conservative financial-services firm, which Harry transformed into the kind of Wall Street playah that was often picketed by students and teachers’ unions. He never traveled alone—flunkies like Thing One and Thing Two were part of Harry’s makeup.

The three men came up the walkway and into the house, Thing One and Thing Two trailing at a respectful distance behind him, like castrati guards in a harem.

Her father scanned her, unsmiling.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, keeping her tone pleasant. “How are you?”

“Parker. I’m glad you’re here.” Her father glanced at her friend. “Lucy.”

“Hello, Mr. Welles. Nice to see you again.”

Harry took a deep, disapproving breath—well, it seemed disapproving. “I have something to discuss with you, Parker. Is Nicky here?”

“He’s with his father this weekend. But I can run over and get him.” There was that pesky, hopeful note in her voice. If you don’t like me, at least like my kid, Dad.

“No, that’s just as well. We need to discuss a few family matters.” He looked pointedly at Lucy, who smiled sweetly and, bless her heart, didn’t move a muscle. Harry’s eyes shifted back to Parker. “How’s Apollo?”

“Still alive.”

“Good.” Pleasantries finished, he strode down the hallway. “Join me in the study, please,” he added without looking back.

“Miss Welles, your father would like you to join him in the study,” said Thing Two somberly. The man held a long and meaningless title at Welles Financial, but so far as Parker could tell, his job was to echo her father and occasionally slap him on the back in admiration. He fell into step behind Harry, keeping six or seven paces behind.

“Parker. Always lovely to see you.”

And then there was Thing One.

It was his customary line, usually delivered with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and she hated it. Yes, Thing One was attractive—Harry would never hire an ugly person. The whole cheekbones and perfect haircut and bored affect…okay, okay, he was hot. But he knew it, which detracted significantly, and that line—Parker, always lovely to see you—blick. Add to the fact that he was a Harry-in-the-making, and his appeal went down to nil.

Thing One didn’t work for Welles Financial; he was Harry’s personal attorney, having replaced the original Thing One a few years ago—why change a perfectly good nickname? He lived somewhere here in Rhode Island and did things like…well, Parker really didn’t know. Occasionally she’d have to sign a paper he brought by. Otherwise, he seemed fairly useless, glib, smug and so far up her father’s butt she wondered how he could see daylight.

“Thing One,” she murmured with a regal nod. Miss Porter’s hadn’t been for nothing.

“It’s James, since you can’t seem to remember. I also answer to Mr. Cahill.”

“Thing One suits you so much more.”

He gave her a sardonic look, then turned to her friend. “Hello, Lucy,” he said. He’d met her at a number of Nicky-related events—God forbid Harry come alone. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Oh, thank you,” Lucy said, looking a little surprised that he knew. Parker wasn’t. Harry was hardly a doting grandfather, but he did keep tabs on Nicky’s life. Or had his people keep tabs, as the case might be.

“After you, ladies,” he said. He looked somber. Parker was more accustomed to seeing him in full-blown slickster mode, kissing up to her dad, glad-handing whoever was around him. A small quiver of anxiety ran through her gut. Something was…off.

As they walked down the hall, Parker rubbed the tip of her ear. It was itchy. Stress eczema, probably, brought on by dear old dad.

Harry never did any real work in the study. So far as Parker could tell, he used it to impress and intimidate his colleagues. The room was beautiful, though, filled with first-edition books, Tiffany windows, a state-of-the-art humidor and a desk the size of a pool table. Harry sat in his leather chair now, his thick gray hair perfectly cut, his suit Armani, his eyes cool. Around his arm was twined Apollo, her father’s pet ball python.

Yeah. You are your pet, right? Apollo was maybe four feet in length—Parker didn’t spend a lot of time looking at him, as he gave her a hearty case of the heebie-jeebies. Nicky, though…in case living in a mansion wasn’t cool enough, he loved to impress his friends with Apollo, whose glass cage, it must be noted, was always locked. Didn’t want to have a python slithering around the house, no indeed. The gardener was charged with feeding him and cleaning his cage.

“It’s so Dr. Evil,” Lucy whispered, giving Parker’s hand a squeeze. She went to a window seat and curled up there, nearby, but at a distance.

“So, Harry,” Parker said, that nervousness flaring again. She sat in one of the three leather chairs in front of the desk. Things One and Two stood to one side, like soldiers at a funeral. “How are things? Are you here for the weekend?”

“No. And things have been better. Is my grandson almost finished with school?”

“Yes. Then he’s going to California with his dad and Lucy.”

Harry glanced at Lucy. “Glad to hear it.”

“Glad to hear it,” echoed Thing Two, scratching his stomach. Parker waited for Thing One to chime in, too, but he remained silent, his arms folded.

Harry gazed at his pet, then kissed the snake’s head. Parker tried not to flinch. That snake would make some very attractive shoes. Otherwise, he was her rival for Harry’s attention. Well, hardly her rival. Apollo was ahead by miles. Her father looked at his minions. “Gentlemen, have a seat.”

Thing One and Thing Two obeyed, taking the seats on either side of her. She glanced at Lucy, who gave her a nervous smile of solidarity. There was definitely something in the air, and for the life of her, Parker felt a little bit as if she was about to be sentenced.

She wasn’t far off.

“Well, there’s no easy way to say this,” her father said, stroking his snake.

“No easy way,” Thing Two murmured.

Harry didn’t look up from the snake. “We’re broke. You have to move.”

CHAPTER TWO

JAMES C AHILL, also known as Thing One, closed his eyes. Granted, Parker Welles was not his favorite person, but even so. Hearing it put so baldly…uncool. Her friend gave a little squeak. Otherwise, there was silence.

He glanced at the princess. She didn’t move for a second, then tucked her hair behind one ear, the tip of which was growing red. Otherwise, she just sat there, her profile to him. She crossed her legs. Said legs were flawless—long, smooth, perfect. Not that he was allowed to look at them—she’d put him in his place quite a while ago, and yes, she was being informed of her financial ruin, but man, those legs were incredible.

“Broke?” she said, then cleared her throat.

“That’s right,” Harry answered, petting the snake. “You’ve heard of broke, I assume?”

Now, James knew that Apollo was some kind of security blanket for Harry; easier to break the news to his only child if he had something else to look at. Their whole vibe was always wicked uncomfortable; James hated having to go to Welles family events, but if Harry invited him, he’d come along. It was the least he could do, given what Harry had done for him. Didn’t make things fun, though.

Parker took a deep breath, her breasts rising under her silky shirt. Nice. Focus, idiot. The perils of being a straight guy in the room with a beautiful woman. Even one who loved putting him down.

“What happened, Dad?” she asked, her voice more gentle than James had ever heard it. And “Dad.” He couldn’t say he’d ever heard her call him anything but Harry in the six years he’d been working for the guy.

Harry shifted Apollo to his other arm. “Just a bump in the road. For now, there’s no more money.”

“No more—”

“James, fill her in.”

“James, why don’t you fill her in?” Vernon echoed, parrotlike.

Right. Time to earn that salary. “Okay, well, it’s a little complicated,” he began.

She gave him a razor blade of a look. “Try me. I’m a Harvard grad.”

So much for her soft edges. And God forbid he forget that her blood ran crimson. James himself had gone to Boston University; once, he’d flirted with a Harvard girl and told her he went to BU. “Where’s that?” she’d asked, because if you went to Harvard, other schools didn’t exist.

She had, however, gone home with him.

“Magna cum laude,” Parker added.

“Should I kneel?” he asked. Harry snorted, and Parker’s mouth tightened. Not cool. James hadn’t meant to make it seem as if it was boys vs. girl here. Even if it kind of was.

Parker’s friend cleared her throat. “Um, Parks, you want me to, uh, get started on dinner?”

“I’d rather you stayed,” Parker said. Her tone was locked into rich-girl drawl. “Please continue, Thing One.”

Yes, Majesty. “It seems that Harry got mixed up in an insider-trading deal.”

She looked back at her father, who was stroking his snake. “Oh, Harry.”

“Let him finish,” Harry said, not looking away from Apollo.

James shifted in his seat. “Harry made a sizable investment in a company on which he’d had inside information—”

“I know what insider trading is,” she said.

“—and that was obviously unethical, but more to the point, the results weren’t what the information promised.” Okay, here came the hard part. “To cover the losses to investors, your father needed to, ah, liquidate certain assets.”

She blinked, and James felt a pang of sympathy for her as realization dawned in her eyes. “Which assets, Harry?” she asked, her voice calm.

Harry looked at the python. “Your trust fund.”

She looked at her hands, her mouth tight. “Granddad set that up for me.”

“Well, I’ve been managing it most of your life,” Harry snapped. There was a pause, and the grandfather clock in the corner ticked ominously. “Nicky’s, too,” Harry added in a softer voice.

James couldn’t help but wince. It had to hurt, hearing your father had sold you down the river. Your kid, too.

“You stole your grandson’s trust fund, Harry?” Her voice was harsher now.

Harry’s lips pressed together. “I’m the administrator of the Welles family trust, Parker, as you’re well aware. I liquidated it temporarily.”

“Liquidated it temporarily,” Vernon echoed, smiling like an idiot. James had almost forgotten he was here.

“How temporarily?”

“Yo!” came a voice. A shaggy-haired guy wearing overalls stood in the doorway. “Hey there, gang, sorry. Is this the Welles place?”

“It is,” Harry said.

“It’s awesome, man! Really nice! So, like, we’re the movers? Gonna start in the game room, okay?”

“Billiard room,” Harry muttered.

The mover laughed. “Totally! Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the candlestick! Dude, is that a snake? Nice! Okay, better get going. This place is frickin’ huge! See you later!”

Parker’s mouth was open. “They’re taking stuff already? I— Wow, Harry. You don’t mess around.”

Her face was pale now, and James wished he could, well, make this easier for her somehow. “Parker, anything that you bought for you or Nicky or the house is yours. Everything else, I’m afraid, falls under Harry’s assets, which the Feds have seized. The investigator is aware that you’re living here, and you have a little time to, ah, pack.”

“My God.” She squeezed her little finger and glanced at her pal, who was frozen.

“It’ll be okay,” Lucy murmured automatically.

Harry cleared his throat. “Obviously, Parker, having these vultures pick over our belongings is not my choice. I’ll get everything back.”

“Really,” she said faintly.

“Eventually. I’m a little…constrained for the immediate future.”

“A little constrained indeed,” Vernon said.

That was one word for it. James rubbed his forehead. Wicked headache coming on.

“So.” Parker shook her head. “About my trust fund, and Nicky’s. Don’t you need my signature to just…empty it? There must be something left.”

Nope. There was nothing, and Harry had only needed James himself to file the paperwork. Poor planning on her part, that was for sure. At any time since her eighteenth birthday, she could’ve taken full control of that money. When her son was born, same deal.

She never had.

“Your signature wasn’t required,” Harry said. “Nor was your consent.”

“Your consent was not required,” Vern said, nodding cheerfully. There was a crash and a curse from somewhere in the house.

Parker took a deep breath “Wow, Harry. So it’s gone? That was a lot of money.”

“Yes, Parker!” Harry barked. “I’m sorry to say you’ll have to make do for a while. Until I can recover some losses.”

“How long will that take, do you think?”

Again, Harry’s eyes sought out James.

Shit again.

“That’s undetermined right now,” James said. “Your father is being sentenced Monday morning.”

Parker’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, Dad.” Twice in one day. “Can I do anything?”

“Like what, Parker?” he asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

“I’ll be fine. I have a great team.”

“A great team!” Vernon agreed.

Lucy got up from the window seat and went to Parker’s side. Took her hand. Good girl, James thought. Parker would be needing her friends, and so far as he could tell, Lucy here and the Paragon of Perfection otherwise known as Ethan Mirabelli were her closest. Or so it seemed from those dreaded family events he’d attended.

“It’s really nothing,” Harry said. “I’m not even sure I’ll have to serve any real time.”

James was sure. Oh, yeah. Harry was looking at somewhere around five years. His case wasn’t the clusterfuck that some Wall Streeters had been involved in of late, but it was a clear-cut case. And after Bernie Madoff and the Occupy movement, there wasn’t a judge in the country foolish enough to go easy on a case like this.

“As I said, you’ll have to move,” Harry added. “I’m hoping you’ll take Apollo.”

You know, James had to wonder sometimes what the hell was wrong with Harry. He loved the guy, yeah. But he was a pretty big idiot around his daughter. And yep, here it came.

Parker’s voice hardened. “Take Apollo? You’re worried about your snake, Harry? How about your grandson? The one you robbed? Where should I take your grandson, Harry?”

“I’m sure his father would take him.”

“I’m not living away from my son!” she exclaimed. Her ears were burning red now.

“You can both live with us, Parker,” Lucy said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“No! Lucy, thank you. But no. Harry, Ethan and Lucy just got married. I’m not moving in with them! What about your apartment? You could sell that and—”

“Parker,” James said as gently as he could. “The SEC has seized all your father’s assets. The apartment, this house, the place in Vermont…everything.”

She glanced out the window. “There goes the Steinway. Holy crap.” She swallowed, then looked at James, her expression bleak. “When do I have to be out?”

“They’ll leave your rooms for last,” he said. “You have till the end of the month.”

“This month?”

“This month,” Vernon confirmed.

She squeezed her pinkie again. “Okay,” she said, biting her lip. “Well, that’s… I was actually thinking it might not be a bad idea to move to a smaller place.”

“Smaller place. Not a bad idea,” Vernon echoed, and James resisted the urge to duct-tape his mouth shut.

“Let me go call Ethan, okay, Parker?” Lucy said.

“Okay,” Parker said distantly.

“Look,” Lucy said more firmly. “You’re not alone in this. Okay? I have some money put aside, and you’d do the same for me. We’re family.”

Harry made a rude snorting noise.

“Shut up, Harry,” Lucy snapped. “You should be grateful she has friends when her own father does this to her.”

Score one for Team Lucy.

“Thanks, Luce.” Parker said. “But it’s fine. I’ll be fine. But sure, go call Ethan. Fill him in.”

Whereupon the Paragon would no doubt charge up the driveway on his white horse and rescue the mother of his child. Which, no doubt, Parker would love. James sighed.

Harry was staring at the python, and James thought, not for the first time, that if he gave his daughter as much attention as he gave the snake, things would be a lot less chilly in the Welles family.

“So my trust fund’s gone,” she said. “The stock market’s not too bad these days. How’s my portfolio doing?”

Harry still didn’t look at her. “Anything you had through Welles Financial is now unavailable.”

“Unavailable?”

“I’ll get it back, Parker!” Harry snapped. “You have what’s in your checking account at the moment. Do you have anything in savings?”

“No! You told me the stock market was better than…well, what am I saying? You’re a felon. I took advice from a felon. Good God. I guess I should’ve stuffed some cash into the mattress.” Parker gave a shaky laugh.

Clearly the news was catching up with her. She ran a hand through her long hair, the strands falling back into place. Smooth, silky hair that— Been there, worshipped that, his conscience chided.

“I can believe you took my money,” she said. “But I can’t believe you stole Nicky’s. That’s really low, Harry. Even for you.”

“It was necessary,” he barked.

“For what? For covering your ass?”

James held up his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s just…let’s try to calm down. This is a lot to take in. Your father made a mistake—”

“How much did you lose, Thing One?” she asked abruptly.

James hesitated.

“Oh. I get it,” she said, and if looks could kill, James would be lying in a bottomless puddle of blood right about now. “So you knew. Well. Do go on.”

“You have six thousand dollars in your checking account, and since that’s in your name only, it’s free and clear.”

“I have to make a phone call,” Harry said, unwinding his pet and putting him back in the case. “Vernon, come with me, please. I need the information on the drug-company stock. Parker, James can fill you in on the rest.”

“There’s more? Are you going to beat me with a rubber hose, Thing One? I can’t wait.”

James waited till the study door closed, leaving him alone with Parker. And Apollo.

Nope, not alone. The mover was back. “Okay if we start on the dining room? Packing up that china’s gonna take a while. It’s really nice! Expensive, I bet.”