A Love Story
9)
Before her death at her own hands, before the pain had gotten too hard to bear, Charlotte Chandler had been a strong woman, capable of caring for two brothers, one who followed in her footsteps, and one who came with an edge of innocence that she'd never fully understood.
As far as Stuart was concerned, growing up, she had been their mother, feeding them, clothing them when Beatrice was out working, which she spent all of her time doing.
To Adam, her protégé, she was a leader, a teacher, a protector, and a woman who taught him how to give a woman a 'puppy' look. It was Adam that she'd always connected with, on that deeper level. They were two different articles of clothing, cut from the same cloth and, ironically, it was her greatest weakness that ended in his strongest lesson.
He'd watched as she wasted, as her smiles wilted, her eyes emptied and her sense of self crumbled in the face of Pete Cooney. At moments in their marriage, Brooke English had been blessed enough to see what Stuart was so privy to, to be able to see just how terrified Adam had become of that look in a woman's eyes… in his son's eyes.
Even after all that had happened between them- affairs, threats and divorce- she would never forget those moments, moments that she shared, unspoken, with Stuart. And, as much as she hated what Adam threatened to do to her son, whenever he passed her in the street, she saw what he saw when she met JR's gaze.
It was that connection, one that very few could understand, that had led to her sitting at the table, listening to Stuart's worried tirade, her eyes absorbing Adam's carefully worded documents. Still, at least Adam did evil well, right? And, she had to admit, this was one hell of a plot.
"Brooke… this is going to end horribly, we both know it and what about JR… when he learns what Adam's doing…" Gentle Stuart had been desperate after his talk with Marian and had set up plans with the only person who could get to Adam like he could.
The redhead looked up, setting the papers down on the table, beside an unfinished mug of coffee. "From what I understand, Ms. Kincaide's only been in Pine Valley, what, three, four days?" He nodded and she grimaced, reaching up to press fingertips into temples, trying to ease the growing pressure that only came from dealing with Adam. "How could he have laid all of this out in that short a time slot, Stuart, even for him, really?"
"We both know how he feels about his children, Brooke, come on, we both know he could do this. He's probably dead tired but do you doubt he'd be able to find himself enough men?"
"Ah, Stuart, he doesn't need men for this. All he needs are signatures but, somehow, I highly doubt that he convinced Zach Slater and Kendall Hart to marry."
"How did you-"
"Don't worry, I won't tell Erica, I swear, but, the fact that the other part of this deal could come through at the same time?" Brooke sighed, rolled her shoulders. "Stuart, ninety-percent of this plan was pure luck, pure coincidence."
"But it's wrong-"
"You and I both know that, but it doesn't change the fact that they've both already signed the papers, signed the deals. Adam's got the future of four lives in this palm of his evil little hand and there's nothing we can do about it."
"Maybe I could sign as Adam-"
"Stuart, nothing about this plot is based around his signature. It's all based around four others. Apparently he's learned something from our years of getting involved in these schemes of his."
"That's not fair."
Brooke slipped the papers into the folder, drained her coffee and reached out to pat Stuart's hand, smiling encouragingly. "Don't worry about JR. I ripped into Adam over the phone after you called me. I didn't let him hang up until I knew that he listened. You know that there's not a Chandler alive that beat me one-on-one. I'm going to run to Livia's, see if I can stop the papers the hard way. Might as well try right?"
The pain in his back woke him after a night on the couch. A deep-rooted ache that lay along his spine; when he breathed, it tightened up his chest and neck, making breathing difficult. From where he lay, in jeans and a shirt, he stared up at the ceiling, working to pack all the pain down and away.
Finally, when his spine simply ached, JR looked down at the bottle on the table in irritation. Usually, the sleeping pills kept him out if his back started up, but, well-
You're sleeping on a couch, JR. Do you expect you back to enjoy it?
His inner voice was right, though he'd never admit it out loud. He was still a Chandler after all. He checked the clock, grimacing at the feel of his head turning. It isn't time for the meeting with Vi yet, he thought absently. But, maybe, he could find something else to do?
Unfortunately, seeing as how the spoiled Texan had taken control of his room, he was stuck in a suit he'd laid out the night before. A nice suit but JR liked picking out his clothes when he was ready. Well, he'd just have to find something to do, didn't he?
Bracing himself, he poked his head, very gently, into his bedroom, studying the sleeping… how the Hell could a little thing like that make so much noise! Swearing silently, he left the room, standing and trying to come up with something to do… Wait, he was her boss! He could force Vivianne to meet him earlier.
An hour later, he calmly taped the note to the inner side of the door, hoping to god that she wasn't here when he got back.
Chandler was gone when she woke up and she saw, with an edge of annoyance, that her bags sat near the door, where his very sweet and oh-so loving note for her to basically piss off. She was tempted to fling her clothes around the room just to irritate him and make his eye twitch.
She, however, contrary to popular belief, was not quite that cruel; before even changing out of her nightgown and robe, she called up the management. Two minutes and sixteen seconds later, she began to contemplate how to tell Chandler that there were no rooms available yet.
Finally, with a pained noise, Micaela pushed herself into the room, dressing and trying to figure it out. It was like fate was conspiring against her! Car crash, stuck in plane with him, stuck in a suite with him… god, when would it end! Sitting on the bed, biting her lip, she slipped on her shoes, sighing.
Fox Crane… ugh… what was she going to do? Now that he'd been named successor of Alistair's company—when the rich old bastard had died in some kind of poisoning thing—he was in a whole new level of fame. And, after marrying what's-her-name, he'd had the little girl, what was her name? Tessa, right, short for his wife's name? Yet, despite the proud new paternal instincts, he was, well, he was…
Well, he was, in many ways, a complete and total jackass. But, sadly, he was a rich jackass… and they were always the worst kind.
Kendall Hart-Slater, in a new dress that she'd brought in Vegas, fluffed her curls, and tapped the toe of her shoe on the polished stone floor of Livia Frye-Cudahy, rolling her shoulders thoughtfully. Zach had dropped her off here and gone to get something done with the remains of his casino. She was a bit disturbed to be meeting both Brooke and Livia and, in general, this should be rather foreboding but she found herself in an oddly pleasant mood today.
Glancing down to check her ring—so pretty, isn't it?—Kendall shifted it, making sure it was perfect before she let her hand drop back to her side. Jesus, how long did it take for two other women to get there? Maybe she should leave… head back home and prepare for hurricane Kane to hit when Mother learned that—
"Kendall?"
She jerked, her head turning to face the two shorter women, one eyebrow rising in a silent question. Brooke, at Livia's back, grimaced when her eyes found the rock on Kendall's slim finger; Livia nodded at her door and Kendall accepted the invitation, steeling herself as she followed Livia into the office.
Settling into the leather chair opposite Livia, Kendall tried to ignore the way that Brooke was hovering. It was irritating, and Kendall finally shot the redhead a look; Brooke moved away as Livia sorted through papers… clearly growing rapidly more nervous. At last, the Kane could take no more. "Livia… stop pulling the dramatic crap and tell me the bad news."
"Um…" A sigh, a grimace and Livia kneaded her knuckles against her forehead, "There is… a loophole."
"Loophole? What do you… huh?"
Brooke stepped up, smiled encouragingly. "A loophole with silver hair, and a disturbing amount of scheming ability." Kendall stared, blankly, and Brooke braced herself for hurricane Kendall. "Adam Chandler… he made a loophole."