Most Wanted Read online

  “How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked, smiling at her sweetly.

  “Thanks, I’m fine except for the morning sickness,” Christine answered, compromising somewhere between the truth and completely fake small talk.

  Frederik grinned his toothy grin. “What a great way to celebrate this birthday, with two beautiful women! Marcus tells me school’s over for you, Christine. What are you going to do with yourself until the baby comes?”

  “Read without guilt?”

  “Great idea, rest up for the baby!” Frederik grinned, then glanced over his shoulder. “Where’s that damn waiter? We need to get this celebration started! I ordered champagne!”

  “He’ll be here soon, Dad,” Marcus said, looking for the waiter.

  Frederik leaned on the table hard enough that the glasses tinkled. “I had a life-changing event this week. I was in a G V.”

  “Wow!” Marcus said. “Cool. A G V?”

  “What’s a G V?” Christine joked. “Is that like a Gee Whiz?”

  Frederik chuckled. “It’s a jet. The G stands for Gulfstream, and the V is for the Roman numeral five. Thus, G V. It’s the new one, after the G IV. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  Stephanie rolled her lovely eyes. “Here we go. Boys and their toys.”

  “Dad, what was the ride like?” Marcus asked, his tone encouraging, and Christine sensed he was trying to be nice because it was his father’s birthday.

  “It was unreal. So smooth. Have you never flown in one, Marcus?”

  “No, never.”

  Christine bit her tongue. Frederik knew that Marcus’s clients weren’t sending private jets to pick him up.

  “The design of the cabin? Art. The finishes, top-of-the-line.”

  Stephanie was smiling slyly. “Christine, you’re supposed to ask him whose jet it was. He wants you to ask and he’s not gonna be happy unless you do.”

  Christine smiled. “Frederik, whose jet was it?”

  “Before I answer, it’s incumbent upon me to make clear that she’s not my client yet. Mine is only one of the firms she’s considering. But if she picks those hacks at Scheller Whiting, I’ll shoot myself.” Frederik glanced over his shoulder again, and the waiter was hustling over with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a white napkin over his arm. “Finally!”

  “Okay, so whose jet was it?” Christine repeated.

  “Also, to be completely accurate, I’m not sure if she owns the G V. She might have rented it. A lot of these Hollywood people buy contracts in networks to share jets. Very few actually own their own jet.”

  Christine caught Stephanie’s eye, and Stephanie smiled.

  Frederik continued, oblivious. “A G V costs God-knows-how-much new, and it’s not all of the expense of the purchase, but running it that’s the expense. They may not fly enough to justify it.”

  “Mr. Nilsson, sorry about the delay,” said the waiter, arriving at their table. He showed Frederik the bottle in a formal way, resting it against the napkin on his forearm. “Mr. Nilsson, is it to your liking?”

  “No,” Frederik answered flatly, his disapproval plain. “I asked for the ’96 Salon. This is a special occasion.”

  “Apologies, Mr. Nilsson.” The waiter pivoted on his heels and hustled away.

  Frederick shook his head. “The ’96 Salon. What else? A sommelier wouldn’t have made that mistake. Salon has its own plot of land in the Champagne province. They’re their own grape producer, so they have better control. They release the vintages very late—”

  “Dad, you were saying—” Marcus interrupted, and Christine knew that it was a diversionary tactic, designed to avert his father’s making a mountain out of a molehill over the waiter’s bringing the wrong champagne.

  “Yes, right.” Frederik smoothed back his bangs, which were feathery and thick for a man his age. The gray at his temples blended with his ash-blond hair in a way that only made him a more striking figure. “What was I saying?”

  Marcus answered, “You were telling us about the client you took the jet for, the G V.”

  “Yes, of course, it’s a teardown in the Hollywood Hills, with a view of Los Angeles on the better side. It’s on eight acres, all wooded. Phenomenal. And at night, with the lights, it’s indescribable.”

  “Whose jet was it already?” Christine asked again. She got along best with Frederik by acting like a clueless audience, so he could explain things to her that she didn’t care about or already knew.

  “In a minute.” Frederik held up a long, slim finger, keeping them in suspense, making them hang on his every word. “I can’t tell you more about the job because I signed a confidentiality agreement, and you know that I take such things seriously, even among family.”

  “Of course,” Marcus said quickly, but Christine flashed on the other confidentiality agreement, the one that had kept Zachary’s name confidential. She wondered what he was doing now and imagined him in prison. She didn’t know if Griff had what it took to get Zachary acquitted. She hadn’t liked how Griff had answered her, when she’d asked him about whether he believed Zachary was innocent.

  Frederik was saying, “I must tell you, in the past six or seven years, I’ve signed more confidentiality agreements than I can count. Used to be that you signed them only when you got the job, or at the earliest, visited the site. Nowadays, you have to sign them as soon as you get the phone call, and the phone calls are placed by some fifth assistant.”

  “Really,” Marcus said, undoubtedly noticing Frederik shifting in his chair, preoccupied by his waiter search.

  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Christine chimed in, in a soothing tone. “I still want to hear who the G V belonged to.”

  Frederik frowned. “Where is our champagne? This is a very special night! I want to celebrate!”

  “We will,” Christine said.

  Marcus nodded. “We will, Dad. We just got here.”

  Frederik scowled, unplacated. “But I have big news, and I don’t want to wait another minute!”

  “What, Dad?”

  “My beloved bride has just given me the best birthday present ever.” Frederik broke into his toothy smile. “Guess what it is?”

  Marcus answered, “Please, not a new putter.”

  Christine chimed in, “A G V?”

  Frederik guffawed. “We’re pregnant! Stephanie’s going to have a baby!”

  “What, really?” Christine exclaimed, shocked. It was such a weird situation, and Stephanie and Frederik had always said they didn’t want children. Christine couldn’t organize her emotions. She and Marcus had gone through such a struggle to conceive that she couldn’t feel immediately happy, and she knew Marcus would feel much worse. It was just another way that his father proved superiority over him, although that was something only Christine and Marcus knew. Marcus hadn’t told his father or Stephanie about their infertility problems. Frederik and Stephanie knew only that it took Christine and Marcus a while to conceive, but then they got pregnant, end of story.

  “Congratulations!” Marcus said, after a moment. He was smiling, but his forehead creased into a frown, as if the top half of his face and bottom half couldn’t agree on an emotion. “So this means I’m going to have a … brother or sister? At thirty-five years old?”

  Frederik burst into hearty laughter again. “Better late than never, don’t you think?”

  “Ha!” Stephanie flashed a grin. “Your father thinks this is so funny, but the joke’s on me. I already have morning sickness, I’m the most exhausted I’ve ever been in my life, and when I don’t eat, I feel like crying.”

  “I know, right?” Christine said, trying to come around. “We’re the ones”—she almost said left holding the bag—“who have to do all the work. How far along are you?”

  “I’m only a week behind you!” Stephanie’s dark eyes lit up with uncharacteristic excitement. “We’re going to be pregnant together!”

  “Oh my God!” Christine laughed, getting used to the idea, as strange and
awkward as it was.

  “We’ll have such a great time!” Stephanie squealed in a way that Christine had never heard from her before. “You have to tell me everything, Christine. You’re the pro. I know you have all those books. You know everything!”

  “Girl, I will hook you up. I memorized those books, and I can barf on cue.”

  Stephanie laughed. “I didn’t think I would be this excited, but I am!”

  “Wait until you get your ultrasound, that’s amazing. You can hear the heartbeat and see the heart.” Christine realized as soon as she’d said the words that she hadn’t told Marcus about the ultrasound. He glanced over at her, blinking, but didn’t say anything. His smile looked frozen in place, but his frown was deep.

  Marcus turned to his father. “Dad, I have to admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t know you guys were even thinking about having kids.”

  “Tell me about it!” Frederik flared his eyes, comically. “We weren’t. I was sure my days of that foolishness were over. But the one time we slipped up, bam!”

  “Just like that?” Marcus kept smiling, but Christine knew this had to be killing him, not only because he had mixed feelings about having a new sibling, at his age.

  “Just like that! At my age, can you imagine!” Frederik puffed up his chest in an exaggerated way, then bent his arms and flapped them like a rooster. “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

  Stephanie recoiled, laughing, and gave him a playful shove. “Frederik, really? Could you keep it classy? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “Congratulations, Dad,” Marcus said again. “I have to say, this is a hell of a way to celebrate your birthday. I’ll hand it to you, I didn’t see this coming.”

  “Never a dull moment, right?” Frederik laughed heartily, throwing his head back and displaying his carnivorous teeth. “I’ll be in a walker by the time the kid’s out of high school, if I’m lucky!”

  Stephanie nodded in happy agreement. “You know the expression, ‘Man plans, and God laughs.’”

  Frederik looped an arm around Stephanie’s slim shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I’m happy. I admit it’s a surprise, but I’m so happy. We’re happy. Right, honey?”

  “Right.” Stephanie looked up at him with a beautiful smile.

  “Awww.” Christine nodded but felt a tinge of envy. Both Stephanie and Frederik looked over-the-moon, and Christine couldn’t help but feel that they were having the happiness about the pregnancy that she would’ve wanted for her and Marcus.

  “Damn, where’s that waiter now?” Frederik said, looking over his shoulder, but Stephanie’s lovely gaze settled on Christine, and her grin faded.

  “I’m … sorry, Christine,” Stephanie said, nervously. “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

  “How were you insensitive?” Christine asked, confused.

  “Well”—Stephanie glanced at Marcus and then back again at Christine—“Marcus shared with us why you had problems conceiving, that you didn’t produce enough eggs, and that’s why it took you so long to get pregnant.”

  Christine said nothing, shocked that Marcus had told them such a lie.

  Stephanie’s glossy lips puckered with regret. “I didn’t mean to brag about getting pregnant so fast. I’m sorry, it wasn’t nice. You know we love you.”

  Frederik’s smile faded, too, and his gray-blond eyebrows sloped down with unusual empathy. “Yes, we love you guys. We didn’t mean to show off. I know I tend to, but Stephanie’s making me mend my ways.”

  “That’s okay.” Christine plastered on a smile.

  “All’s well that ends well, right, Christine? We’re reproducing like rabbits now! Nilsson babies are taking over the world!” Frederik cranked his neck to look over his shoulder. “Now where the hell is that waiter?”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “Marcus?” Christine called out, as soon as she hit the house, closing the door behind her. She’d stewed the entire car ride home since they had driven separately to the restaurant. She tossed her purse, keys, and phone on the console table, glancing around the entrance hall, but the house was quiet and felt still. She hustled into the kitchen, but Marcus wasn’t there and Lady jumped up on the kitchen island, her tail curling into a question mark.

  “Marcus?” Christine headed for the sliders to the backyard. One of the doors was open, and the outside light was on over the back patio, recessed into the bottom of a pent roof. She stepped outside, and the motion-detector light went on instantly, casting a cone of bright white in the middle of the yard, where Marcus stood looking down at his phone, his features lit from below. Murphy trotted around at the back of the yard, visible only because of the glowing red disc that dangled from his collar. The night air felt cool and calm, but Christine was anything but.

  “Marcus, why did you lie to your father and Stephanie?” Christine walked toward him, not bothering to check her frustration.

  “Lie to them about what?” Marcus turned, lowering the phone.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, so please don’t lie to me, too.”

  “You mean about why we can’t get pregnant?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. You told him it was because of my eggs.”

  “What’s the difference?” Marcus shot back, and just then the motion-detector light went off, so Christine could barely see his face in the ambient light from the neighbors’ houses. There was no moon out, and the sky was black, opaque, and starless.

  “The difference is that you lied.”

  “So, why does it matter?” Marcus’s tone was sharp. “That’s what you told me, wasn’t it? It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. So why should it matter if they think it’s your fault and not mine?”

  “Marcus, I agreed when you didn’t want to tell them anything, only because it’s your family, but lying to them is something else. You told them an outright lie, and that’s just wrong.”

  “This, from the woman who lied to me about where she was the entire weekend?” Marcus slid his phone in his pocket, where it glowed. “That’s not the reason you’re mad. The real reason is that you blame me because we couldn’t have our own child. No matter what you say, you blame me because we couldn’t get pregnant.”

  “I don’t blame you for that.”

  “Yes you do. You know it, and I know it. And so do I. I blame myself, too.” Marcus raised his voice. “Do you have any idea what that’s like for me to sit there and listen to my father, who got his second wife pregnant by accident, when I couldn’t even get you pregnant once? Do you know what that feels like, as a man? As a husband?”

  “I know, but this isn’t about you.”

  “Of course it is. We wouldn’t be in this mess with Jeffcoat if I had been able to get you pregnant. You wouldn’t have a baby in you right now that has half the DNA of a serial killer. We’re not having a Nilsson baby, that’s the reason you’re pissed.”

  “No, that’s the reason you’re pissed. You’re the one who has a problem with that, not me.”

  “Oh, right. You’re fine with it because it’s Zachary’s baby. Your new boyfriend.”

  “How dare you!” Christine’s blood boiled, and she felt suddenly exasperated with Marcus, with his jealousy, with his insecurities, and with him. “Do you know what bothers me? What bothers me is that tonight at dinner, I was sitting across from your father and Stephanie, and he’s completely supportive of her. He’s as excited about their pregnancy as she is, and they didn’t even plan it. She’s having the pregnancy that I wanted.”

  “That’s exactly what I just said! You wanted a nice, normal pregnancy. You’re angry because you didn’t get one. You feel cheated because we had to use a donor.”

  “No, that’s not true.” Christine finally understood her own feelings, and they were coming to a head. “I’m angry because you’re not supportive of this pregnancy.”

  “I’ve been supportive. I drive you to your car. I get whatever food you want. I bring you water. I hold your hair when you throw up—”
/>
  “I’m talking about emotionally supportive. You didn’t buy in from the start, and now that you found out about Zachary—yes, I call him by his first name—now, you can’t get past it. You wanted me to have an abortion.” Christine couldn’t stop now that she’d said it aloud. “How is that supportive?”

  “I don’t want that anymore—”

  “Still, that’s the barest minimum. I’m talking about your being in it with me and sharing the joy with me, but also the hard parts. So we’re having a hard part. We got dealt a bad hand, but I’m the only one trying to solve it—”

  “How, by running off to see Zachary? By lending him money? By making sure he has a lawyer?”

  “Yes. That’s all part of it. I was just going to the source, like Gary said, and I feel connected to him. I want to help him.” Christine heard herself admit it aloud and understood something more, almost like an epiphany. “But the answer isn’t for me to ditch Zachary. The answer is for you to be part of this with me. He’s our donor, and we have to figure out what we’re going to do about that—”

  “We’re going to sue the bastards!”

  “That’s not all, not nearly. It’s all about taking care of this baby, because it’s on its way.” Christine understood everything with a new clarity. “Marcus, if we found out this child had cystic fibrosis, we’d be in it together. We’d be buying equipment. Medication, nebulizers. We’d be seeing the best doctors we could afford. We’d figure that out before the baby came. Why treat a physical illness but not a mental illness? This is no different.”

  “Of course it is!”

  “No it isn’t; and anyway, it doesn’t matter. The baby’s coming, and I’m going to be its mother. You’ve evidently decided you’re not going to be its father.”

  “You think Zachary is the father. You went to see him, why?”

  “To find out if he was the biological father, our donor.” Christine knew that Marcus was half-right, but she wasn’t about to admit it because she was right about the whole thing. “I wish you’d gone with me. I wish you were handling this whole thing differently. I wanted to get to know him, to learn things about him, about his family medical history, who had mental illness, who didn’t—”