“You never cared, Mom. Never. But with James, it’s different.”
“Oh, God,” Marla said, seeing the pain on her daughter’s face. “I’m so sorry, if I’ve ever hurt you, ever slighted you, I didn’t mean to, I mean . . .” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, fought tears. “You have to trust me. I love you.”
Cissy just stared at her. Her lips quivered. “I—I think we should go to dinner.”
“Please, honey, give me a chance,” Marla whispered. “Let me prove it, make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“I know. But I want to. Doesn’t that make it all the better?” she asked, and saw some of the wariness in her daughter’s eyes fade.
“I dunno . . .”
“Just give it time.”
“You know,” Cissy said, keeping some distance between them as she sat at the foot of her bed. “You’ve been weird ever since you woke up from your coma. Different. Not like Mom at all.”
“I heard you say you didn’t think I was your mother.”
“I don’t! I mean . . . Shit, Mom, er, I mean, you’re acting way too nice.”
Marla’s heart bled. “Is that such a crime?”
; “I just don’t believe it.” Cissy cocked her head. “Maybe you’ve had one of those near-death experiences,” she said, her eyes rounding, “you know, those mind-altering things that make you a better person.”
“Let’s hope,” Marla said, offering a smile. She opened her arms wide and Cissy rolled her eyes.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Come on.”
“Oh, God!” With an exaggerated sigh, Cissy got to her feet and accepted a hug. Marla clung tight, as if she never would let go. “I’ll make it up to you, honey, I promise.”
“Mom, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said, but her arms circled her mother and Marla felt her shake a little, as if she was fighting breaking down, as if she couldn’t quite trust the woman who had brought her into this world.
“You’ll see.” Marla dropped a kiss onto Cissy’s forehead. “And I will ride those damned horses, one way or another.”
Cissy giggled despite herself. “Oh, God, Mom. I hope you bring a camera.”
Dinner was tense at best. Nick watched Alex from the corner of his eye. Usually smooth and charming, with a quick wit and a quicker smile, Alex appeared anxious, the lines of irritation around the corners of his mouth more pronounced, worry etched in the wrinkles on his forehead. Something was eating at him. Something big. The finances? Worry over his wife’s memory loss? Or something more?
For the first week of his stay in San Francisco, Nick had put Alex’s stress on the failing business.
Nick had sorted through the company records and it was obvious that Cahill Limited would have to divest some of its assets, or the lines of credit and outstanding bank notes would be called by the lien holders. The bankers had been stalled as long as they could be and Alex’s international investors hadn’t, so far, offered up a dime. As far as Nick could determine, the company’s assets still outweighed its debts but the ratio wasn’t all that great and unless a helluva a lot more income was generated, Alex would have to start laying off people and selling off some of the real estate holdings, many of which were mortgaged to the hilt.
Despite all that, huge donations were made each month to charities. Cahill House and Bayview Hospital benefitted the most and, though no one in this family seemed to accept it, the sorry facts of the matter indicated that Cahill Limited was about to go bust.
But money was only one of Alex’s problems, Nick guessed now.
“So you saw the police, gave Detective Paterno a statement,” Alex said after the small talk was dispensed with and Cissy had asked to be excused to do homework, which, Nick suspected, meant hanging out on the telephone or in an Internet chat room. She clomped up the stairs in platform shoes, leaving Alex, Nick, Eugenia and Marla at the table.
Marla pushed her half-eaten food aside. Nick figured she wasn’t used to having solid food and obviously chewing was still a strain.
“Anything new?” Alex asked, reaching into his pocket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
Nick decided to gamble. “Paterno thinks Marla’s life might be in danger.”