One Good Thing Page 19

  “What’s happening with the network?” He’d removed his sunglasses and she saw real interest in his eyes.

  She filled him in, trying to make light of the dire circumstances they now found themselves in, but she was nowhere near the actor he was. “Our focus right now is doing whatever we can to help the Franklins sell the Sunshine cottages and beach club memberships so that everyone can at least get back what they put in.”

  “You know that if you need money or anything else that will make Dustin or your life better, I’m here, right?”

  She nodded numbly as guilt at having risked the home he’d given them rushed through her.

  “Maybe this is all a sign that the time has come to try something new,” he continued. “You’re incredibly talented, Kyra. I have a lot of respect for what you can capture through a lens.”

  After all the turmoil, the jabs from Troy, the pressure of trying to work within the network’s viselike grip, his words were a balm to her soul. “That means a lot coming from you,” she said. “Especially now that you’ve added ‘director’ to your résumé.”

  “Yes, well, we’ll see how I fare on the other end of the camera soon enough.” His tone was suitably self-deprecating. He had never inserted a movie star–size ego into their personal relationship. The look he gave her now was irresistibly intimate. “And have I mentioned lately what an incredible mother I think you are?” He ran a hand over Dustin’s curls. “Our son is proof of that. I hope you know how much you both mean to me and how much I’d like you to be a more intrinsic part of my life.”

  Her heart leapt in a way it shouldn’t at the look in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice. She was as susceptible as the next woman to his movie star looks and Hollywood allure, but it was his personal warmth, his obvious feelings and devotion to their child, and the ways in which he seemed to see through to the real her, that pulled at her.

  She turned his words over in her mind as they ate. Was it possible he was actually considering leaving Tonja? Could he finally have had enough of what he’d described as more of a business merger than a true marriage?

  As she sipped her glass of wine and watched Dustin sprawl lazily across his father’s lap, her shoulders relaxed along with her guard. She breathed in the salt-tinged air, listened to Dustin’s happy chatter, and sighed with pleasure. When Daniel’s warm brown eyes sought hers, she did not try to evade them. The eyes that could mesmerize from the screen lulled her. Made her feel beautiful. Desired. Special.

  If they’d been alone, and he were single, that look would have her twining her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, losing herself in his kiss. He reached for her hand. Her imagination filled with hopes and dreams she’d thought she’d discarded long ago. When he ran a thumb across her skin and said, “There’s something important I want to ask you,” her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She half expected him to go down on one knee and beg her to marry him.

  Twenty-one

  “You want what?”

  The question did not involve protestations of love, a rethinking of his commitment to Tonja Kay, or a proposal of marriage. It involved the absolutely unthinkable. The one thing she’d told him she would not consider. “Have you lost your mind?” She peered into Daniel’s too handsome face and met the brown eyes that had turned so earnest. She could not allow herself to ever forget that he was first and foremost an actor and knew exactly, and instinctually, how to play a scene. He’d made a living off earnest coupled with sexy. “No, I take that question back. You know exactly what you want. You know your mind. You’re just hoping I’ve lost mine.”

  “Dustin wanna hact with Dandiel!”

  He’d asked for Dustin to play his son in the movie he was directing. Make that his and Tonja Kay’s son. And he’d asked in front of Dustin without giving her the slightest warning. She turned, hoping that Dustin would forget what had been said and lose himself in the sand castle he’d started clearing a patch of sand for. But he was looking straight at his father and he was smiling.

  “Wanna be movie tsar like Dandiel.”

  She gave Daniel a look of condemnation laced with venom. It did not require acting skill of any kind. It was a “you’ve crossed the line” look, a “you’ve got to be shitting me” look, an “et tu Brute” look. She held his eyes long enough to be sure he’d understood her. “This is something I will never agree to. I’ve told you that. And if for some perverse reason you had to bring it up in order for me to say no, you could have done it at a different place and time.” And he could have done it without making her imagine all kinds of ridiculous things. “And you should have done it in private.”

  She began to shove the containers and wrappers back into the picnic basket.

  “Wanna hact! Direktor tole me I’m a natchrul!” This had been when Daniel had allowed him to appear in a brief cameo with him without even asking.

  “You’re good at lots of things,” she said to Dustin. “But acting is for grown-ups, not for small children.”

  “Curly Sue is a children.”

  Kyra swallowed and did not say that the actor who had played Curly Sue as a child had recently admitted to having overcome an addiction to alcohol while auditioning for The Voice—an issue that plagued so many child stars as to be considered a cliché.

  “And Dora Explora . . . and the Bakyardinins are childrrens,” Dustin continued.

  “Those are cartoon characters, sweetheart, not real children.” And to her knowledge were therefore not subject to the perils of childhood stardom. Being the son of a celebrity was tricky enough without becoming one.

  Dustin stuck out his chin. He had a sweet, easygoing nature, but every once in a while he dug in. At which point he became an immovable object. She shot Daniel another look. “I think we should be getting back now.”

  Dustin watched her as if uncertain what to lobby for, ultimately choosing the most immediate and concrete. “Wanna bid catsel!” Dustin said. “You promised!”

  “Let me get him started so you and I can discuss this.” Daniel stood and pulled Dustin to his feet before she could answer. He dug through the picnic basket and cooler, coming up with a large plastic tumbler, two small plastic spoons, and a Tupperware container.

  “There’s no need to discuss this. Because there is nothing to discuss.”

  “Actually there are a few things you should know.” He handed some of the makeshift sand tools to Dustin and carried the rest toward the wet sand. “Be right back.”

  “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” she mumbled to herself as they began to scoop out the sand that would serve as the castle’s foundation. “No is no. It’s not a conversation opener.”

  Once Dustin was happily at work, Daniel returned and dropped down on the blanket next to Kyra. If it wouldn’t have been so pathetic, she would have scooted the extra six inches to the edge of the blanket in an attempt to escape his magnetic pull.

  “So this is the thing,” he said as if she had, in fact, agreed to discuss the situation. “The script specifically calls for a four-year-old boy to play my son.”

  “Yours and Tonja’s.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “And whose idea was that?”

  He shrugged as if he had no idea, though she’d read that he had collaborated on the screenplay.

  “Why don’t you pick a little blond boy that looks like Tonja?” She tried not to think too much about his “real” family, but she knew he and Tonja had several adopted children who bore more than a passing resemblance to their mother.

  “That’s not what the script calls for,” he said as if physical characteristics were ever written in stone into a screenplay. “It’s based on The Exchange.” He named a recent bestseller about a family whose young son disappears while they’re vacationing at a theme park.

  “You can stop right there. I don’t want my child acting out a kidnapping a
nd fight for survival.”

  “You’ve been on film sets, Kyra. It’s not like he’d actually be kidnapped or put in harm’s way.”

  She did not remind him that she’d been on exactly one film set and that she’d been fired from it the moment Tonja Kay had gotten wind of Daniel’s interest in her.

  “Obviously, he’d be in no physical danger. And there’s no reason it would need to be traumatic. He knows what pretending is and he loves to do it.”

  Kyra knew a thing or two about pretending herself. Wasn’t that how she’d gotten pregnant in the first place? Wasn’t that what their whole relationship had consisted of? Her pretending that Daniel loved and wanted to marry her? Her childish belief in fairy tales and happily ever afters?

  “And I’ll be there with him,” Daniel continued. “I am the director. I control what happens. And I’ll also be acting alongside him.”

  But so would his jealous, vindictive, foul-mouthed wife, who hated Kyra for giving him a biological child. And so would their children and each of their children’s nannies. Tonja had already attempted to take Dustin away from Kyra in order to add him to the Deranian-Kay family unit, so often featured in the tabloids. That unit would be there in force, while Dustin would have only his father, who would have a movie balanced on his shoulders both as actor and first-time director. It was an impossible scenario. One that even if she’d wanted to, she could never put Dustin into.

  She watched Dustin building so happily. She hadn’t been able to keep him as out of the public eye as she would have liked, nor could she change his parentage and all that it entailed, but she’d done her best to give him as “normal” a childhood as possible. “Daniel, this is just not okay. I can’t put him in this situation.”

  “Before you tell me all the reasons why not, let me tell you the reasons why. First of all, he’s perfect for the role. He’s my son and he not only looks like me, he has my mannerisms.” He said this with pride. “We understand each other. And he really is a natural, Kyra. Not studied and faux childlike. And he loves to do this. He thinks it’s fun.” His voice and eyes beseeched her.

  “And how unstudied do you think he would be once he had to perform this large a role in this big a film?” She shook her head. “I’ve told you no and I mean it. Maybe someday when he’s older, if he chooses this path, but not now.”

  His jaw hardened. “I understand your concerns, but I don’t see why you should have all the say in what Dustin does and doesn’t do. I am his father, and frankly I think that gives me some say in this situation. You seem to think that just because I haven’t exercised my parental rights, that means I’ve waived them.”

  His eyes were nowhere near as warm as they had been. His voice had gone several shades cooler. As she watched, she saw him intentionally dial it back. Like an actor calibrating his performance. “I think this could be good for Dustin and my relationship.”

  “You’ll be too busy and under too much pressure to look after him and I don’t want him anywhere near Tonja ever again. I certainly don’t want him to be calling her “mother,” even if he’s acting when he does it. He’s only three.”

  “Then come and be there with him,” Daniel said in a reasonable tone that infuriated her even more. “I’ll build you into the budget. Do Over seems to be stalled out. You could get some more film work under your belt and make money doing it.”

  “Listen to what you’re suggesting. You’re talking about igniting a potential world war on that set. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Then send your mother with him,” he said. It was much closer to a command than a request.

  “Good God.” She hated that he’d so clearly thought all this out. That he so obviously knew what he wanted and had no problem using her and his son to get it. She’d never seen this side of Daniel before and was not enjoying it one bit. “No,” she said. “Just no. End of conversation.”

  “This conversation is far from over,” he said. “I don’t want to have to play hardball here, Kyra. But I am entitled to parental rights. And I want Dustin in my movie.”

  “We should be getting back.” She began to get to her feet.

  “Hold on.” He put out a hand to stop her. She shrugged it off and stood, but she didn’t storm off because where would she go? He stood and faced her. “I don’t want to turn this into a serious problem or some kind of legal battle . . .”

  Her heart and jaw dropped at the threat he tossed so cavalierly. Her hands fisted at her sides to keep herself from using them to pound on his chest. Despite the calm reasonable tone, he was in a position of strength and he knew it. He was nothing but a well-mannered bully.

  His eyes examined her like lasers, cutting through her skin as if to get to her thoughts and motivations.

  “As you think this over, bear in mind that I could go up to a million dollars for Dustin to play the role.” He paused but held her eyes with his. “And possibly another quarter mill for whoever comes with him.” He nodded in an oddly gentle way for someone who had just struck such a potent blow. “That’s how important this is.” Dustin had clearly gotten his ability to dig in and become an immovable object from both of his parents.

  Kyra tried not to react as horror flooded through her. Horror that he’d named the one thing it would be almost impossible to say no to. She’d been so sure that she’d be able to make the payments on the loan she’d taken out against Bella Flora, but the 120-day grace period had passed and she’d missed the first interest payment. And she still hadn’t found the guts to tell her mother and the others, who had invested most of what they’d had left and had also not been paid back, that if she didn’t keep up with the payments, she could lose Bella Flora. A fact that struck terror into her heart and wouldn’t sit at all well with the man in front of her, either.

  • • •

  Despite repeated vows not to do so, Bitsy once again Googled the name “Bertrand Baynard” on her phone. Once again, a host of photos appeared. The two of them at last year’s Children’s Hospital Ball, posing at the top of a Vail ski slope, sitting at a favorite outdoor café in Florence, aboard a friend’s yacht off Crete. She enlarged each shot and peered closely at their faces, especially the smiles that lit them. She arranged the photos in a rough chronological order as best she could remember, trying to assess their moods and feelings. In each photo, her smile had reflected genuine happiness, and she lingered over them, treating herself to the memory of what had been happening when each had been taken. Then she repeated the exercise, focusing on Bertie’s face, his smile, his body language, hunting for some clue as to when things had begun to change. Trying to determine if there had been a progression she’d been too preoccupied to notice.

  Had he pulled away slowly? So subtly that she might be excused for missing the signs? Or had there been a sudden, cataclysmic rupture? But no matter how hard she scrutinized the photos, she saw nothing other than a happy, satisfied couple. She’d never before understood how the wife could possibly be the last to know, had always been certain that the wife had in some way been responsible for losing her spouse so blindly.

  Because she couldn’t quite help herself, she clicked through the online photos and reports of Palm Beach charity events and parties. Because she was apparently a glutton for punishment, she went to Beryl Merman’s nasty-spirited gossip column, “Believe It or Not,” where she saw a picture of her former home and an account of its sale by the bank, which had been written in a regretful tone that was in reality unrestrained glee.

  Without thinking, she punched in her former neighbor Eleanor Wyndham’s phone number. The four of them had barbecued together on occasion and sometimes met for pre-event cocktails. She and Eleanor had chaired the Make a Wish Foundation Ball together.

  “Bitsy! How are you?” There was surprise, but no censure in Eleanor’s voice.

  “Fine.” Bitsy had told herself she would not complain or whine and so she asked brightly, “How ab
out you?”

  “I’m so sorry we didn’t really get to say good-bye,” Eleanor said diplomatically, given that Bitsy had actually left town like a thief in the night. As if she had done something wrong and not just fallen in love with the wrong man. “I miss having you next door.”

  “Same here,” Bitsy replied. This, at least, was the truth.

  “And I cannot believe that Alex Binder is living there.”

  “Yes.” Bitsy actually felt a perverse satisfaction that the house Bertie had insisted they buy and had loved so much now belonged to a man Bertie detested.

  “You know that Sandra got their house in their divorce and so when yours became available . . .” Eleanor’s voice trailed off as she realized whom she was gossiping with and about. “Sorry. But it’s too terrible. And he’s living there with this . . . well, let’s just say no one knows where he found her or how long he’ll keep her.”

  Bertie had referred to Alex as the preening peacock and a testament to the fact that money and class did not automatically go together. She fervently hoped that Bertie knew his beloved home was now in the peacock’s hands. Hoped that he was suffering from erectile dysfunction. That he was already growing bored with the exotic dancer.

  For the millionth time she wondered why, if he’d been unhappy, he hadn’t simply asked for a divorce. Because of her stupidity, he would have still gotten half of her money, which was far more than many millionaires saw in a lifetime. He hadn’t even cared enough about her to divorce her. As if he could put her on a shelf just in case he one day wanted to waltz back into her life and reclaim her.

  “Has John heard from Bertie?” she asked, irritated with herself before she’d finished the question.

  “No. And I’m so sorry. I never would have imagined Bertie behaving this way. Never.”

  Bitsy looked down at a photo of Bertie toasting her with a glass of champagne, his face wreathed in smiles.