Someone to Watch Over Me
Chapter 1His mother was at the airport waiting for him the day he flew home from New York. "Oh, Stuart, I'm so happy to see you," she proclaimed as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
"Hello, Mother," was the only reply he had to give. Six weeks ago he was in New York, in love and engaged to be married. Today he was in California, without a fiancé, an apartment or a job. His life was in tatters, much like his heart.
"Is that all you brought with you?" she asked, pointing to the single suitcase he carried.
Stu nodded. "I had the rest of it shipped. Remember? I told you."
"That's right. I'd forgotten. Well, let's get you home then. Your father should be there by the time we get to the house. And you look like you could use a good meal or three . . . " His mother kept talking but Stu had ceased listening. He was thinking about what he had to do to get licensed as a P.I. in California. Just a short test, the lady at the licensing bureau told him. Then he would have to get a gun permit, and that required another test, although not a written one. He wasn't concerned about passing a firearms test; he'd had more than enough experience in handling weapons.
Stuart sighed as his mother continued to rattle on. Her nonstop chatter was probably a good thing . . . it prevented him from thinking about – the girl he'd loved and lost. Best to leave that in the past, in New York, and begin getting his life back in order. He wouldn't be able to accomplish anything today, of course, but he could see about taking the written exam for his California P.I.'s license tomorrow. "Might I borrow the car tomorrow, mother?" he asked out of nowhere.
"Well, of course, darling, but don't you want to take some time before you go looking for a job?"
"Uh, no. I want to begin the search immediately. Who knows how long it will take?"
She reached over and patted his hand. "I suppose that's best. It will give you less time to think about Connie."
"I would appreciate you not bringing up her name, Mother. I asked you before," and he pulled his hand away from hers.
"Alright, I forgot. You don't have to get so testy about it."
Stu sighed again. He either had to get used to living in his parents' house again, or he had to find an apartment and an office . . . quickly. Somehow living with 'mommy' and 'daddy' didn't seem like the wiser decision, but for now it was the necessary one. "Sorry, mother. The last few weeks have been difficult. I'm used to being completely on my own, and this is as big a change for me as it is for you."
His mother glanced over at him with love in her eyes. "I know, Stuart, and I know it hasn't been easy. Why don't you take a few days to relax and get acclimated before you start off on your own again?"
"It's tempting, but I don't think that would do any of us any good, do you? I don't want to give dad anything to snipe at me about."
"Now, Stuart . . . "
"Don't, Mother. Don't tell me he wouldn't do that. We both know he would, if not sooner then later. He'll never be happy until I join his firm, and I have no intention of doing that."
"But, Stuart . . ."
"I love you, Mother. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"
The remainder of the drive was filled with banalities, but it kept them from arguing. When they pulled up in front of the house Stu took note of the colorful flowers and bushes – something they'd never had when he was growing up. "You've changed the landscaping," he remarked.
"Yes, finally. I suppose your father got tired of the neighbors complaining about the drabness of the yard. Elizabeth came down and helped me pick out everything." Elizabeth was Stuart's younger sister.
"How's my baby sister doing these days?"
"Fine, just fine. Everything seems to be going well for her."
Unlike me, Stu thought. "That's good. I'm happy to hear that at least one of us turned out alright."
"Both of my children are just fine, and don't you forget it."
Stu laughed and retrieved his suitcase from the back seat. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he feared, after all. "Come on, Mother, let's see what you've done with my old room."
By the time they got through dinner he knew he'd guessed right earlier in the day; it wasn't as bad as he feared; it was worse. The first thing his father said to him was, "Couldn't make it work in New York, eh?"
It was the tone of the question as well as the question itself. Stu was going to try his best to stay on his father's good side, if there was such a thing. So he worded his answer carefully. "The business was coming along nicely, Dad. Everything else, not so much."
His father stared at him across his glass of wine. "Told your mother you'd come running back to California with your tail between your legs."
"It's not like that, Dad."
"What's it like then, boy? You slunk back to California with no business, no wife, no family and, I would venture to guess, no money."
Stu pushed his chair back from the dinner table. He'd had enough for one night. He picked up what was left of his glass of wine, drained the glass and then refilled it. "You can add that to your list, dad. I drink too much."
Stu ignored his mother's pleas to return and went to his room instead. He slipped off his shoes and loosened his belt, then set the wine down on the nightstand. Finally he laid down on the bed on his back and sighed. So much for taking a few days to recuperate. He'd be out looking for an apartment first thing in the morning and, after that, an office to start Bailey Investigations as soon as possible. He fell asleep without getting undressed or touching the glass of wine. Home sweet home, he thought as he drifted off. Maybe I should have stayed in New York after all.
The next morning things were better, but only because his father had gone to work. Stu took a shower and got dressed, then picked up the wine glass and took it to the kitchen. When he walked past his mother, making breakfast, she noticed the glass still full from last night. "You drink too much, Stuart? Did you have to bait your father like that?"
Stu played dumb. "Oh, you mean last night? I thought it only fair, Mother, after the way he lit into me." He emptied the wine into the sink and rinsed the glass. Then he bent down and kissed her cheek. "Good morning to you, too."
She shook her head and laughed. "Do you still eat your eggs over easy? And coffee's ready."
"Yes, I do. I hope you haven't made any bacon yet, have you?"
"Why?" She asked as she scooped two eggs onto a plate and handed it to him. "Toast is on the table."
"Because I don't want any."
They walked into the dining room and set their plates down. Stu drank about half of his coffee before his mother said anything. "You know why he does that, don't you?"
"What, make my life hell?"
"To his way of thinking, you've disappointed him twice."
His father had been unhappy, to say the least, when he'd accepted and then walked away from a professorship at Harvard. Who turns down Harvard, for God's sake? Followed by the ultimate disappointment, declining to become part of the family business. And then that silly nonsense about going to New York and becoming a private investigator.
"Actually, I've disappointed him three times. And I can't help it. I actually went to Harvard, you know, and I couldn't go in. It looked so . . . so confining. As for the business . . . that was a dream of fathers, a pipe dream if you will, not mine. It was never my idea to spend the rest of my life manufacturing plumbing paraphernalia."
"You could have tried it," Helen insisted.
Stu looked across the table at his mother like she'd lost her mind. "No, I couldn't. It would only be delaying the inevitable. And in the end it would have upset him even more."
His mother sighed. "I suppose you're right. And New York?"
New York was still too painful to talk about, but he forced himself to answer his mother. "It was going well. The business was building steadily, and I was enjoying the work. And then . . . "
His mother nodded. "I know, she who shall remain nameless came along."
Stu had to cover his mouth to stop from spitting coffee everywhere. "I guess that is pretty funny, isn't it? I asked her to marry me, mother, and she said yes. And then it all fell apart. And I still don't know why."
"Is it so important to know why, Stuart?" His mother reached across the table to take his hand in hers. "And if it is, why did you leave New York?"
Stu had a snappy reply ready for his mother when he stopped and considered what he was about to say. Why was it so important that he know why the breakup happened? Wasn't it enough that it did? And why hadn't he stayed in New York to find the reason? Was he afraid of what he'd find? Was it easier to wallow in his grief, to play 'poor, pitiful me' to everyone that knew him than to face the truth?
"Stuart? Did you hear me?"
His mother's voice brought him out of his reverie. "I . . .I don't know, mother. I guess I left New York because . . . because I was afraid to find out the truth about Connie. I was afraid there was something in me that pushed her away. But I don't think I fit into the equation at all. Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with me. Maybe there was no real reason 'why.' Maybe she just had to run." He poured another cup of coffee and sat contemplating the dark, chocolate liquid. "And maybe that's why I left New York. I wanted to find a reason to blame myself for the breakup, and when I couldn't, I ran, too – back to California, where it was warm and safe, and there was no Connie."
Helen reached to gather the breakfast dishes. "I don't care why you came home. I'm just glad you did."
Stu looked up from his coffee cup. There was a smile in his eyes. "Thank you, mother. I'm glad I did, too."
