just be an extra layer of anxiety. Brina thought it best to focus on the positive, make sure you thought it would absolutely happen and when it did it would be wonderful.”
That pretty much put the nail in the coffin. Even his father knew he was right. A bar of lead sat in Kemble’s gut. After a minute, he said, “So what do I do from here?”
He father gave him a weary smile. “You continue your work at Tremaine. You find a woman you want to settle down with. You raise a family and get on with life.”
“So . . . suck it up?” Was that all there was?
“It’s what life is, son. It goes on. You do the best you can with the hand you’re dealt, and you keep moving. And when the time comes, you’ll take over Tremaine Enterprises and continue our work.”
Kemble swallowed. “I’ll never be you.”
His father chuffed a laugh. “Why would you want that?” He rose and put his arm around Kemble’s shoulders. “An expert at faking it? The only thing I was really suited for was being a con man, and your mother wouldn’t let me continue down that career path.” He guided his son toward the door. “Let’s get you a stiff drink.”
Except Senior didn’t “fake it.” Whatever he did, he was the best at. Ever.
Kemble felt like he was walking toward his execution.
*****
Jane could tell by the setting moon it was getting on toward dawn. Unlike her mother, snoring inside, she couldn’t sleep. She’d worked until she was exhausted, cleaning up the dreadful mess, as if she could scrub away her shame that Kemble had seen the whole thing. But exhaustion didn’t seem to equal sleep. So here she was, out on the deck in the small backyard, a sweater pulled around her body against the chill of the wee hours. She liked the darkness. It was comforting.
The neighborhood was quiet now. The house was the only thing her mother got in the divorce from Holmby. If her mother would sell it, there’d be enough money for rehab and the care she needed. Even without alcohol, she might need care. Which had come first, the alcohol or the mental illness? Even her mother’s doctor didn’t know. And she refused to see a psychiatrist.
What was Jane thinking? Her mother would never agree to rehab or counseling. That would be trying to make something of herself and her life, and her mother was beyond that.
Jane felt numb. Would Kemble tell any of his family about what he’d seen? God, she hoped not. Maybe she should quit going over to the Breakers at all.
But could she give it up? Being around a boisterous and loving family had provided Jane with an anchor. Between her mother, cycling down into alcoholism and mental illness, and the problematic “fathers” rolling into and out of her life, she’d needed one.
But her life at the Breakers was also excruciating. She’d lived with her hopeless love for Kemble Tremaine since she was maybe fourteen. Of course, he wasn’t for her. There were the damn Tremaine genes, for one thing. He’d meet someone who had that matching gene, and poof! True love. It was tough to compete with magic when she was about as ordinary as girls got.
But it was more than just the magic that put him out of reach. The Tremaines were bigger than life. The girls were beautiful, as in really stunning like their mother. Tall. Skin to die for, pale and fine. Amazing hair, no matter the color. And the men . . . . Big, handsome, dark hair, piercing blue or green eyes. Except of course, for adopted Devin. He was their blond, brown-eyed changeling, but devastatingly handsome nonetheless. They got into the best schools. Well, except for Tristram, and that was just because he refused to go. They all had talents. Senators, governors, Hollywood producers, and the glittering literati were friends of the family.
And we weren’t even talking about the magic yet. After they met their destiny? Brina was a Healer. Drew could tell the future. Her husband Michael could Find things—like anything, anywhere, as
That pretty much put the nail in the coffin. Even his father knew he was right. A bar of lead sat in Kemble’s gut. After a minute, he said, “So what do I do from here?”
He father gave him a weary smile. “You continue your work at Tremaine. You find a woman you want to settle down with. You raise a family and get on with life.”
“So . . . suck it up?” Was that all there was?
“It’s what life is, son. It goes on. You do the best you can with the hand you’re dealt, and you keep moving. And when the time comes, you’ll take over Tremaine Enterprises and continue our work.”
Kemble swallowed. “I’ll never be you.”
His father chuffed a laugh. “Why would you want that?” He rose and put his arm around Kemble’s shoulders. “An expert at faking it? The only thing I was really suited for was being a con man, and your mother wouldn’t let me continue down that career path.” He guided his son toward the door. “Let’s get you a stiff drink.”
Except Senior didn’t “fake it.” Whatever he did, he was the best at. Ever.
Kemble felt like he was walking toward his execution.
*****
Jane could tell by the setting moon it was getting on toward dawn. Unlike her mother, snoring inside, she couldn’t sleep. She’d worked until she was exhausted, cleaning up the dreadful mess, as if she could scrub away her shame that Kemble had seen the whole thing. But exhaustion didn’t seem to equal sleep. So here she was, out on the deck in the small backyard, a sweater pulled around her body against the chill of the wee hours. She liked the darkness. It was comforting.
The neighborhood was quiet now. The house was the only thing her mother got in the divorce from Holmby. If her mother would sell it, there’d be enough money for rehab and the care she needed. Even without alcohol, she might need care. Which had come first, the alcohol or the mental illness? Even her mother’s doctor didn’t know. And she refused to see a psychiatrist.
What was Jane thinking? Her mother would never agree to rehab or counseling. That would be trying to make something of herself and her life, and her mother was beyond that.
Jane felt numb. Would Kemble tell any of his family about what he’d seen? God, she hoped not. Maybe she should quit going over to the Breakers at all.
But could she give it up? Being around a boisterous and loving family had provided Jane with an anchor. Between her mother, cycling down into alcoholism and mental illness, and the problematic “fathers” rolling into and out of her life, she’d needed one.
But her life at the Breakers was also excruciating. She’d lived with her hopeless love for Kemble Tremaine since she was maybe fourteen. Of course, he wasn’t for her. There were the damn Tremaine genes, for one thing. He’d meet someone who had that matching gene, and poof! True love. It was tough to compete with magic when she was about as ordinary as girls got.
But it was more than just the magic that put him out of reach. The Tremaines were bigger than life. The girls were beautiful, as in really stunning like their mother. Tall. Skin to die for, pale and fine. Amazing hair, no matter the color. And the men . . . . Big, handsome, dark hair, piercing blue or green eyes. Except of course, for adopted Devin. He was their blond, brown-eyed changeling, but devastatingly handsome nonetheless. They got into the best schools. Well, except for Tristram, and that was just because he refused to go. They all had talents. Senators, governors, Hollywood producers, and the glittering literati were friends of the family.
And we weren’t even talking about the magic yet. After they met their destiny? Brina was a Healer. Drew could tell the future. Her husband Michael could Find things—like anything, anywhere, as
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