“Reede never mentioned the incident in his letters,” Kim said. She could imagine how angry her brother would have been. “Reede thinks everyone should forgo frivolities such as car races and dedicate himself to worthy causes.”
Travis was watching her. “Doesn’t know how to have fun, does he?” he asked softly.
“Hazards of growing up,” she said. “What have you done since I met you?”
“Lived by what you taught me,” he said, smiling.
Kim didn’t smile back. She was noticing that he evaded her questions, skirted around them. Today she sensed that something was bothering him. He’d been quite flippant about what had gone on between him and his mother, but she was beginning to think there was a great deal more to it than he’d told her. “Tell me more about your talk with your mother. What exactly did she say?”
Travis turned away but not before Kim saw his dark brows furrow into a deep frown. It looked like whatever had been said between him and his mother was too unpleasant for him to talk about.
When he looked back at her he was smiling. “She assured me that Joe Layton was a good man and that he loves her. He doesn’t know my mother has any money and she doesn’t know how he financed the remodeling of that old building.”
Kim could tell that he was concealing something from her, and she had an idea that he wasn’t going to tell her what it was. All right, she thought, if he could keep secrets, so can I. “When do you want to visit Mr. Layton?”
Travis could tell that Kim had closed down on him and he knew why. The truth was that he’d love to tell her about his talk with his mother, but he couldn’t because the worst of it had been about Kim.
Last night he’d met his mother in the garden of Mrs. Wingate’s house, and after several minutes of hugging and tears of joy at seeing each other again, Travis had taken on the task of trying to find out about Joe Layton. But from his first word, she had been different from the way he remembered her. She wasn’t the quiet, browbeaten little woman he’d grown up with. She thanked Travis for coming to her rescue but she’d made it clear that this was a battle she needed to fight for herself.
Travis had used his best lawyer voice to point out the error of her thinking. He thought he’d made his side clear until she told him he was sounding like his father. That had so completely taken the air out of him that he’d slumped in the chair and stared at her.
In the next second she’d asked him what he was doing with Kim and why hadn’t Travis told her the full truth about his father. “Does Kim even know your last name?”
Her words made them settle back into the roles they’d always played, that of mother and son.
“I just . . . I’d like a woman to care about me, not be dazzled by the Maxwell name,” Travis said. “And you know what, Mom? I’d like to know if I can handle being normal. My isolated childhood didn’t exactly prepare me for an ordinary adult life.”
Lucy winced, but Travis kept on. “And since then the women—”
“Please don’t elaborate.”
“I didn’t plan to,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve not had the possibility of . . . well, love.”
“So what if you do make Kim fall in love with you?” Lucy asked. “What then?”
“What if I fall for her?” He was teasing, trying to lighten the mood.
But Lucy was serious. “Travis, you have been in love with that girl since you were twelve years old. What I want to know is what happens if she falls for you. Will you look into her eyes, say, ‘Wait for me,’ then go skiing down some mountain? Will you expect her to be like me and spend every day in fear that I’ll receive a call saying you’ve been paralyzed or dismembered or killed? Will you expect her to share your vagabond life and never settle anywhere?”
“I don’t know!” Travis said in frustration. “My life—”
“Hasn’t been normal,” Lucy said. “I know that better than anyone.”
“I went to work for my father to protect—”
“You cannot put that burden onto me,” Lucy said loudly. “Travis, you have thrived working for Randall. The excitement, the money, the . . . the power. You’ve blossomed in it.”
Travis fell back against the chair hard. “Are you saying that I’m becoming my father?” he asked softly.
“No, of course not. But I’m afraid . . .”
“Of what?”
“That you could be.”
He took his time before speaking. “That’s my worry too,” he said at last. “Sometimes I see things in myself that I don’t like. Whenever I please him I displease myself—and I worry that my displeasure is as strong as his pleasure.” He looked at her. “But I’m not sure how to get away from the part of him that’s inside me.”
Lucy took her son’s hand in hers. “Spend time with Kim. Forget about Joe and me. We’re fine. He’s not after my money and wouldn’t be if he knew I had any. He loves me.”