After signing the check and closing the door behind the grinning man, she removed the plastic top on the plate, which held a smothered chicken breast, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli. The aroma of the mushroom gravy wafted to her nose and reminded Cherie that she hadn’t eaten anything since the night before.
She finished eating and set the tray outside the door. There was no need to place the DONOTDISTURBplacard on the doorknob because she planned to check out before ten. The chicken was good, but it could not compare to what she’d eaten at the Seaside Café.
One thing Cherie intended to do was to improve her cooking repertoire. It wasn’t as if she was completely clueless when it came to knowing her way around the kitchen, but if she wanted to keep up with Leah and Kayana, she knew for certain that she had to up her game. She also was realistic enough to know she would never be able create the dishes Kayana and her brother, Derrick, prepared for their patrons because they’d had years of practice in replicating the recipes passed down from their mother and grandmother. Discussing books while eating incredibly delicious appetizers, along with exotic libations, had been the highlight of her summers on Coates Island.
Her first year vacationing on the island was a reality check for Cherie. Leah and Kayana must have thought her a sullen, spoiled young woman who said whatever came to mind without regard to their feelings. What she hadn’t been able to tell them was that she was still grieving her baby.
This past summer, she’d strived to be better. She had forced herself to think before opening her mouth, and most times, she was successful. Both women often reminded her that she had what it took to get any man she wanted.
Wanted.
Who and what she wanted were and had always been beyond her grasp, but she had been too blind to see or acknowledge it. Why had it taken so long for her to face reality?
Cherie brushed her teeth, and then returned to the bedroom and got into bed to watch the rerun of an old sitcom. Ten minutes into the program, her cell phone rang. Leaning over, she plucked it off the bedside table and went completely still when she saw the name on the screen. Had he forgotten about their last conversation? Something told her to let the call go to voice mail. That she didn’t want or need to talk to the caller. But curiosity won out as she answered it.
“Hello.” The single word was flat, emotionless.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d sold the condo? My father called me earlier today to inform me that the unit has a new owner.”
“I didn’t know I had to inform you about something that belonged to me. Remember, it was a condition of our deal.” Cherie smiled when she heard heavy breathing coming through the earpiece. “You’re a little late, Weylin, because I sold the unit several weeks ago, and the buyer was generous enough to let me live there until I was ready to leave.”
“Where are you?”
The proprietary hint in his query struck a nerve with Cherie. Her former lover had no right to question her whereabouts. After all, they had ended their fifteen-year relationship more than four years ago with a promise they would never speak again.
“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.”
“Where is this nastiness coming from, Cherie?”
“Oh! You think I’m nasty because you question me as if I’m obligated to keep you abreast of my whereabouts. Let me remind you that I’m not your wife, so don’t confuse me with Michelle, because I don’t look or sound like her. Good night and goodbye.” Cherie ended the call and slipped the phone under a mound of pillows.
Her face was on fire as she struggled to control her temper. She could not believe Weylin’s audacity, questioning her about something that had belonged to her. He wanted a baby, and she had given him a baby, and in return, she got the condo free and clear—or so she’d thought. The phone rang again, and this time she let the call go directly to voice mail.
Cherie was angry with herself that Weylin still had the power to make her feel things she did not want to feel. His call had shattered her contentment. The euphoria she’d experienced when getting the call from the realtor had dissipated like a drop of water on a heated griddle since answering Weylin’s call.
Biting her lip, Cherie stared at the flickering images on the television screen. Hanging up on Weylin was something she never would’ve done in the past. Then, she’d been too grateful to hear his voice when he’d send her coded messages as to where they would meet for their liaisons, all the while marveling that no one ever suspected them of carrying on a clandestine affair. She was known as a friend from their prep school days and then as a classmate at Yale.
Cherie had even joined his campaign as a volunteer; she’d agreed to telephone registered voters once Weylin challenged the popular incumbent representative for his congressional seat. She remembered the day because, hours before, her gynecologist had confirmed what she’d suspected all along: she was carrying Weylin’s baby.
They’d talked about having a child together, and she’d agreed, but that was before he’d blindsided her with the news that he wanted to adopt the child as his own because his wife was unable to have children. This disclosure had rocked her to the core. When they’d discussed her becoming pregnant, she’d thought it was to produce their love child and not his and Michelle’s. It had taken Cherie several weeks to formulate a plan, one in which she would get what she wanted and her lover would get what he wanted. Weylin had agreed to the condo but had balked at the amount she’d requested. What he hadn’t realized was that she wasn’t the same old Cherie that had dropped everything at his beck and call, or agreed to whatever he’d demanded.
She knew she’d shocked him when she’d said it was all or nothing, that she would keep her baby and raise it on her own, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t reveal the identity of the father of her child at some time in the future. It had taken Weylin less than a week to agree to what she wanted, and by the time she’d completed her second trimester, she had moved into a unit in one of the most exclusive enclaves in Cos Cob, Connecticut, and had received stock options in Campbell Realty Corp., which she promptly sold back to Weylin’s family’s company for more than six figures.
Fortunately for Cherie, her pregnancy wasn’t evident to those with whom she worked because she’d gained only fifteen pounds.
Cherie waited until the beginning of her final month before putting in a request and was granted a leave from her job for personal reasons. Most of her colleagues were aware that she’d lost a brother due to street violence and knew she had always taken vacation for several weeks beginning with the anniversary of his birthday.
She’d remained cloistered in her condo, only leaving for appointments with her obstetrician, and when it came time for her to deliver, it was at a private hospital in a remote town near the Massachusetts border. She’d been admitted to the hospital as Janine Richardson rather than Cherie Thompson, and within minutes of delivering a healthy five-pound, six-ounce baby boy, the carefully orchestrated sham was over.
Cherie shook her head again. She refused to let Weylin’s call affect her. She was moving to Coates Island and into a new house, and was going to reconnect with two women she’d come to admire and claim as friends.
Friends.
Her lips twisted in a cynical smile. She had befriended a girl in the neighboring apartment before she’d left for prep school; however, whenever she returned home during school holidays or a recess, it was as if the girl wanted nothing to do with her. Then came the whispers that she thought herself better than them because she spoke differently and preferred to stay home studying rather than hang out with other kids her age.
What they didn’t understand was that she was on scholarship and had to maintain her grades or lose the coveted grant. At first, she was upset by the alienation, but once she met Weylin, she didn’t care if they spoke or even acknowledged her. He had become her world and everything she wanted and needed. In hindsight, Cherie knew she had not only been vulnerable but starved for acceptance and blond, gorgeous Brad Pitt look-alike William Weylin Campbell III had fulfilled her fanatical fantasy.
Although she’d continued to sleep with him once he’d married, unknowingly she’d begun to change. First, it was the demand for expensive birthday and Christmas gifts, which she’d sold, depositing the money into her safe deposit box. Then it escalated into large sums of money—which he was willing to give her, and which she had used to purchase savings bonds in various denominations. Her fear of being poor had become an obsession that was the driving motivation to get whatever she could from Weylin.
