“Salim, it’s good to hear from you,” Christiane said the moment she heard his voice.
They caught up on the family issues before he broached his real reason for calling.
“Did you know that the old man had three minor heart attacks and is now scheduled for bypass surgery?” he asked.
“No I didn’t!” Christiane cried. “Dad’s never said a word, but that explains his frequent trips to Houston. They have some of the best heart surgeons there. Mom must have known something about this, but she never let on.”
“That’s because the old buzzard told her to keep her mouth shut. You know she’ll do whatever he asks,” Salim muttered bitterly.
“Oh, Salim, there you go again. Can’t you make peace with Dad and move on? He could probably use your help and support right now.”
Salim snorted. “In that case he shouldn’t have hired his girlfriend to work at the studio.”
“What!”
“You heard me. I know squat about the television business and now I’m being railroaded into coming on board.” A horrifying thought gripped him, one he was reluctant to put into words.
“You have no proof,” Christiane admonished. “Dad’s pushing sixty. He’s getting up there in years and we’re the only two children he has. Why is it you always want to believe the worst of him?”
“I can’t summon up compassion for a liar and a cheat. Don’t you recall what he put our mother through growing up?”
“You and your assumptions.”
“Not assumptions. There’s been proof.” Salim began to recite events and situations, all captured either on film or in the newspaper.
But there was no swaying Christiane to his way of thinking. She was Daddy’s girl, always was and always would be.
Perhaps it was high time he paid a visit home.
Talking to his mother on the phone was one thing, but seeing her face-to-face was another. He’d planned on taking her out to lunch and giving her the gift he’d brought back from Africa anyway. There was no danger of running into the old man midafternoon, so why not just go on over?
Rather than take his pickup truck, he opted for his Vespa scooter. There was something about riding that sleek machine with the wind blowing in his face and the motor throbbing between his legs that made him feel invincible. He’d always marched to the beat of his own drummer anyway, and he wasn’t about to change.
Zooming in and out of traffic, Salim whipped across the bridge and onto Mercer Island where the family had its home. He navigated several winding roads before heading up a tree-lined driveway. He left the Vespa parked in front of the rambling brick mansion that he’d called home growing up.
Salim used the house key he kept on his key ring, but seldom used.
“Salim. Did somebody die?” Tilly the housekeeper who’d been a second mother to him asked as he sailed through the front door. She wiped her hands on the apron wrapped around her ample waist.
“No, no one died. I’m here to see my mother and you.” He gave her the full force of his smile.
“Consider yourself lucky that I like you,” she said, offering up a plump cheek for his kiss. Matilda, Tilly for short, was one of those rotund, ageless women whose fat prevented her from wrinkling.
She frowned at him. “You need to leave those muddy boots on the doormat. The floors were just done and I’ll be damned if I’m going to have you mess them up. How was Africa or wherever you’re coming from this time?”
“Lots of work, Tilly. I’m exhausted.” Salim slipped off his boots and left them where she’d instructed.
“Your mother’s in the bedroom. She has one of her headaches, probably brought on by you,” Tilly snorted. “Is that gift for her?”
“Yes, it is.”
Salim left her and headed down a long hallway toward his mother’s bedroom. Although she didn’t think he knew it, it had been years since she and Tanner had shared a room. The old man’s room was on the opposite end of the hall close to the staircase so that he could come and go as he pleased.
What a way to live.
Salim knocked lightly. He heard a stirring from inside and then his mother’s voice came at him.
“Tilly, didn’t I say I didn’t want to be disturbed?”
“It’s me, Mother.”
“Salim! You’re back.” There was genuine joy in her tone. “What brings you here? I would’ve thought you’d be home sleeping and jet-lagged.”
The door opened slowly. Lucinda, dressed in an elegant silk robe, embraced him. It reminded him of when he was a little boy and got hurt. It was always his mother’s arms he sought.
They’d always had a special bond. Lucinda understood his need to carve out a life for himself. Her easygoing nature and acceptance of others made her a pushover for her dominant husband. It made Salim want to protect her. And protect her he did.
“I came to see my favorite woman,” Salim answered when he was able to separate himself from her lily scent. The smell of lilies was one of his first memories. To this day just a whiff took him back in time to a place when life was so much simpler.
Lucinda whacked his arm. “I bet that’s what you say to all your girls. If you’ll give me a few minutes to change, I’ll have Tilly fix us something to eat.”
Salim handed her the gift he’d brought all the way back from Zimbabwe. In exchange he received another tight hug.
“Oh, Salim, you shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did. This jewelry box is beautiful. Give me five minutes to get dressed and then meet me in the sunroom.”
True to her word, Lucinda arrived in the sunroom at the appointed time. Salim was already comfortably seated in a wingback chair, sipping bottled water and watching a muted television with one eye. When he stood, she wrapped him in another tight embrace.
“What’s really brought you here?” she asked, olding Salim away from her and examining him with a critical eye.
“I came to talk to you,” he answered.
“About?”
“What’s going on with your husband’s health?”
“Did your father say something to you?” his mother hedged.
“The old man summoned me to the studio, Mom. He says he has health issues. It’s the first time I’ve heard of heart problems. If I’m being manipulated I’d like to know. I canceled a ticket to Haiti and put my life on hold. Tell me what’s going on.”
“He didn’t want you or Christiane to worry,” Lucinda said in a soft voice.
“Really? All his
