really trust her declaration of independence. His success in the world of business had taught him that people usually wanted something as soon as they realized he could afford to give it. ‘Why not send me a card, if you feel the need to share it with me? It’s not like I’ve ever heard from either of you in the last few decades.’
‘We’ve had our problems.’ She swallowed hard, the perfect façade slipping long enough to offer him a glimpse of anguish that he didn’t expect to find. ‘Your father had not been the best of husbands, Scott.’
Well, how about that? Scott felt tempted to ask, a morbid bout of laughter threatening to break out. Wasn’t that karma? She had wrecked his parents’ marriage in the first place, never once looking back or wondering how his family would deal with her selfish ways.
‘He cheated on me, many times.’ Yep. He was definitely right. Dolores was reaping what she had sown. A sense of satisfaction in seeing her disappointment didn’t come, however. He felt tired and empty, with the reality of the fact that he’d never talk to his father finally sinking in. It didn’t matter that he'd declared, loud and clear, how little interest he had in pursuing their relationship. Deep down, there had always been a spark of hope that, against all odds, they might repair some of the damage from the past.
‘The last time he cheated on me was with our housekeeper. Can you believe that?’ Dolores was still talking, an ugly cackle escaping her thin throat. For one absurd second he felt the insane urge to choke her, if only to stop her from speaking. He didn’t want to know the details of that sordid affair. It wasn’t his life. Instead, he felt a childish wish to pick up the phone and call his real father, Tom Masden. He usually visited him twice a month, and it was an island of peace in his otherwise busy, and sometimes chaotic, life. He wanted to hear Tom's voice, calm and reassuring. Tom was his anchor and his true home, and the ugly details about his dad were unable to smear that with dirt.
‘I’m sorry for you, but you could have seen it coming.’ He shrugged, eager to finish the pointless conversation as soon as possible. ‘You should know the saying—"Once a cheater, always a cheater."’
‘Believe it or not, I thought about it more than once.’ Dolores smiled bitterly, the grooves around her thin-lipped mouth deepening. ‘Still, I wasn’t going to sacrifice our house and savings if it came to an ugly divorce. I knew his madness would pass, as it eventually did. I fired the woman myself and never heard from her again.’
‘Well, good for you, then.’ He was done. He’d get her out as soon as possible and return to work, the conversation over. “I need to get back to my work, Ms. Martin.’ He couldn’t bring himself to call her Dolores. The familiarity would imply some kind of bond, and he refused to acknowledge that. She had been a stranger and she’d remain one, now and ever.
‘His affair produced a child.’ The silence that followed her words was heavy and oppressive. Scott could only stare at her, too surprised to react.
‘He had a son with this… this woman.’ Dolores gave a small, brittle smile. ‘He tried to hide it from me, of course. He knew I’d make him pay.’
She stood up, surprisingly swift and fluid. She paced the pale birch floor, too agitated to sit.
‘I found out about it when he was dying. He begged me to take care of this kid. Can you believe it? Apparently, his mother died a few years ago, some kind of a rotten accident. The boy lived with his old grandparents, and your father was sending them money. Not much, but enough to buy food and clothes for José.’
José. He had a brother named José? Scott blinked and watched Dolores prowl around, the dress reminding him of a shadow of a cloud passing over a sunny field—dark and ominous.
‘I was very happy.’ Dolores was actually making the insane grin of a person who didn’t care
‘We’ve had our problems.’ She swallowed hard, the perfect façade slipping long enough to offer him a glimpse of anguish that he didn’t expect to find. ‘Your father had not been the best of husbands, Scott.’
Well, how about that? Scott felt tempted to ask, a morbid bout of laughter threatening to break out. Wasn’t that karma? She had wrecked his parents’ marriage in the first place, never once looking back or wondering how his family would deal with her selfish ways.
‘He cheated on me, many times.’ Yep. He was definitely right. Dolores was reaping what she had sown. A sense of satisfaction in seeing her disappointment didn’t come, however. He felt tired and empty, with the reality of the fact that he’d never talk to his father finally sinking in. It didn’t matter that he'd declared, loud and clear, how little interest he had in pursuing their relationship. Deep down, there had always been a spark of hope that, against all odds, they might repair some of the damage from the past.
‘The last time he cheated on me was with our housekeeper. Can you believe that?’ Dolores was still talking, an ugly cackle escaping her thin throat. For one absurd second he felt the insane urge to choke her, if only to stop her from speaking. He didn’t want to know the details of that sordid affair. It wasn’t his life. Instead, he felt a childish wish to pick up the phone and call his real father, Tom Masden. He usually visited him twice a month, and it was an island of peace in his otherwise busy, and sometimes chaotic, life. He wanted to hear Tom's voice, calm and reassuring. Tom was his anchor and his true home, and the ugly details about his dad were unable to smear that with dirt.
‘I’m sorry for you, but you could have seen it coming.’ He shrugged, eager to finish the pointless conversation as soon as possible. ‘You should know the saying—"Once a cheater, always a cheater."’
‘Believe it or not, I thought about it more than once.’ Dolores smiled bitterly, the grooves around her thin-lipped mouth deepening. ‘Still, I wasn’t going to sacrifice our house and savings if it came to an ugly divorce. I knew his madness would pass, as it eventually did. I fired the woman myself and never heard from her again.’
‘Well, good for you, then.’ He was done. He’d get her out as soon as possible and return to work, the conversation over. “I need to get back to my work, Ms. Martin.’ He couldn’t bring himself to call her Dolores. The familiarity would imply some kind of bond, and he refused to acknowledge that. She had been a stranger and she’d remain one, now and ever.
‘His affair produced a child.’ The silence that followed her words was heavy and oppressive. Scott could only stare at her, too surprised to react.
‘He had a son with this… this woman.’ Dolores gave a small, brittle smile. ‘He tried to hide it from me, of course. He knew I’d make him pay.’
She stood up, surprisingly swift and fluid. She paced the pale birch floor, too agitated to sit.
‘I found out about it when he was dying. He begged me to take care of this kid. Can you believe it? Apparently, his mother died a few years ago, some kind of a rotten accident. The boy lived with his old grandparents, and your father was sending them money. Not much, but enough to buy food and clothes for José.’
José. He had a brother named José? Scott blinked and watched Dolores prowl around, the dress reminding him of a shadow of a cloud passing over a sunny field—dark and ominous.
‘I was very happy.’ Dolores was actually making the insane grin of a person who didn’t care
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