Chapter 6

7 p.m. Sunday

Andy barely got off the phone with Regan in time to fix supper for his Mom. He was just pulling the pork chops out of the oven when the water in the shower shut off.

His Mom wandered out a few seconds before he put the salad on the table.

"Good timing," he said. She graced him with a tired smile. She didn't like trying to sleep on Sunday afternoons. She never felt rested because she usually slept Saturday nights too if she managed to be home on a Saturday night.

"Did Regan call?" she asked.

"Yeah," Andy said. His face reddened when he thought that he had spent three hours talking to her.

"How is she?" Camille asked.

"Good," Andy said. "Oh, hey, do you remember the picture I have of you?"

Camille nodded as she spooned out scalloped potatoes.

"Well, I showed it to her yesterday," Andy continued. "She recognized you. Get this: the woman who took the picture has it outside her studio at Greengate Boutiques. Regan said you are one of the prettiest women she's ever seen. She hopes you'll take a picture with her next weekend."

Camille rolled her eyes.

"I can't believe you talked me into getting those pictures done," she said, frowning. "The woman is probably using them as an advertisement for Photoshop."

"They're great, Mom!" Andy protested. "Regan isn't the type who would just say something like that to butter you up."

"Honey, you really don't know much about rich people," Camille said.

"Yeah, I can see where you get all your wisdom," Andy shot back. "I'll bet you run into dozens of millionaires at the donut shop or the wrecker company. Don't give me that crap, Mom."

Camille looked up at the tone of her son's voice.

"No, I don't run into wealthy people in my present circumstances," she said calmly. "That doesn't mean I've never known any of them. I have met some people in my life who are probably better off than the Rileys. In fact, I would say that I was closer to those people than you are to Regan at this point."

"Oh, bullshit," Andy said. "You forget; I know where you grew up. Grandpa was probably the richest man in the neighborhood and he still fell on the poor side of the ledger."

"Watch your language," Camille chided.

"Well, stop feeding me bullshit and I'll quit calling it what it is," Andy replied. This was as close to an argument as he and his mother had seen in a dozen years or more. But it galled him that she would say things about a person she had never met and then make up a story to justify it.

"It's not bullshit," Camille said.

"Fine, name one and I'll Google him tomorrow at school," Andy said. "Then we'll see what you think rich is and we'll see how you think they act."

Camille looked at her son. The day she had dreaded for 18 years had arrived and she wasn't ready for it. She could see Andy already had his back up because of her comments about Regan. She should have just let it go.

"OK, Andrew," she said. "I'll tell you about a rich family I knew very well: Your father's."

"So that's all you plan to say?" Andy asked after he picked his fork up off the floor. "Your father is wealthy and he's a prick so all rich people are pricks. Have a nice day."

"Andy, please," Camille said.

"Please what?" Andy said. "Please let me off the hook? Please just accept what I'm willing to tell you and let it go? You've got to be kidding me. I wait 18 years to hear about my father. You tell me he's wealthy and expect me to say, 'That's nice, ' and go about my business?"

"No, but I would rather you didn't raise your voice and you watched your language a little bit," Camille said. "Give me a couple of minutes to sort through my thoughts and I'll tell you as much as I can. Is that fair?"

Andy held up his hands in submission but then he spoke anyway.

"You know, there is this new concept called child support," he said. "It's all the rage and a lot of single mothers have joined. It's where, oh, let me think, yeah, it's where the father of a child is responsible for helping to pay for stuff so the mother doesn't wind up working 100 hours a week. How many times did we eat pork and beans for a week at a time? Now you say my father's family is wealthy. I don't get it."

He picked up his plate started to scrape the uneaten meal into the garbage. Then he thought again and pulled out plastic containers. Pork chops and boxed potatoes could be reheated and would taste just fine.

He turned to see if his mother wanted him to do the same with hers but she was just staring at the plate. Andy felt like an ass.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have raised my voice and I don't need to know this now if it makes you uncomfortable."

Camille gave a sad smile. She looked more tired than usual. She got up and added her supper to Andy's before stowing the containers in the refrigerator.

"No, I've come this far and you're already angry at me, so I might as well press through it," she said. "Sit with me?"

Andy put his arm around his Mom's shoulders and joined her on the couch.

"I'm not angry at you over this revelation," Andy clarified. "I'm angry at you for lumping a person you've never met in with someone else without even giving her a chance. What would you do if I told you I thought your boss was stealing from the company and the only evidence I presented was because he's black?"

"I'd be very disappointed," Camille said. "I didn't raise you to think that way."

"No, you didn't," Andy said. "You raised me to look at people for who they are. You taught me the color of a person's skin or a person's accent or how much money they have doesn't matter. I assumed it meant all people, not just minorities and poor people."

"Sure, use my own words against me," Camille said.

"You've done it often enough to me, I thought it was appropriate," Andy said, smiling at his Mom. "I'm serious. If you don't want to talk about this, I won't press. I was telling Regan yesterday that I stopped worrying about my father years ago when I realized you loved me enough for two people."

Camille looked down at her hands.

"How much do you remember about your grandmother?" she asked.

"Enough that I hope she needs a kidney transplant one day and I'm a match," Andy said with real venom in his voice. "Then I'll tell her that it's a real shame her life has gone to shit but it's not my responsibility to help her."

Camille's eyes shot to her son's.

"Your grandmother did not say 'shit;' she said 'crap, '" she said. "How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it up to and including the slap," Andy replied. "I saw your face wasn't red when you came outside so I assumed you left her on the floor."

Camille nodded as tears came to her eyes. She blinked them away quickly.

"Andy, you were never meant to hear that," she said. "I am so sorry, honey."

Andy shrugged.

"It gave me a new word to look up," he said. "I'd heard the word 'bastard' before but I didn't know what it meant. Once I looked it up, it made sense why she never liked me. I didn't much care for her either, so I guess we were even."

"I could have killed her when she said that," Camille said. The bitterness she felt a decade earlier returned. "Well, I guess you understand part of what I'm going to tell you. Do you remember my Dad?"

Andy suppressed a smile. He wondered if Rita Riley would lose her status as Regan's mother at some point and become known only as some child's grandmother. It seemed likely.

"I remember he was a lot nicer than Grandma," Andy said.

Camille nodded.

"Your grandmother is a very religious woman," Camille started.

"Who apparently forget that charity begins at home," Andy cut it. Camille smiled but nodded again.

"I spent as much time in confession when I was a child as I did in school," she continued. "Dad didn't play that game. He went to church and all but he wasn't ridiculous about it. After I graduated high school, I was accepted to St. Mary's College. As you might guess, it is affiliated with the Catholic Church. Your grandmother thought I should find a nice Catholic boy, get married and raise a lot of Catholic babies."

Andy rolled his eyes.

"I guess I was a pretty girl," Camille said. "I've been told I was."

"And you've been told at least twice today that you're a beautiful woman," Andy interrupted again.

"This is hard enough without you butting in," Camille said. "So, I got to St. Mary's and I met a guy. He was handsome and funny and charming. I was just a shy, stupid girl who didn't know any better."

Andy's eyes narrowed. He hated that someone had taken advantage of his Mom and he decided he might look up his father just to kick the man's ass.

"But, Mom, that doesn't explain about why you didn't hit him for child support," he said. "You know, it's not too late. I'm still under 18. If you file for it now, they'll get it from him if he's still alive."

Camille shook her head.

"Damn it, will you put away your stupid pride for once," Andy said. "You have sacrificed your whole life and I'm as much his responsibility as yours."

"It's not pride," Camille said. "I'm scared."

"Of what?" Andy asked hotly. "I swear, if he threatened you he and I are going to meet whether he likes it or not."

Camille's mouth dropped.

"No, Andy," she said. "You have it wrong. I'm not scared of him. Evan never threatened me nor do I think he would ever hurt me. I'm scared he will come and take you away from me."

"You don't have to worry about that now," Andy protested. "Jesus, Mom, you need to take a few minutes to read up on parental rights and responsibilities. There is no court in America that would let a father reappear 10 or 15 years after running out on his pregnant girlfriend and get custody."

Camille realized she couldn't stop until Andy knew the whole story. Giving him parts only left him to fill in the blanks. And he wasn't doing that very well.

"That's not what happened and it's not the American courts I worry about," Camille said. "It is the British Courts and they could easily side with him. You see, hell, how much do you know about Great Britain?"

"Enough to know it's no place we're going to visit if we hit the lottery," Andy said. Camille laughed in spite of herself.

"Would it surprise you to learn that I spent a Christmas there before you were born?" she said with a touch of wistfulness in her voice. "I spent a Christmas in a beautiful house near Cardiff, Wales. It was his family's second home. I'll never forget it and I would love to see some of that beautiful countryside again."

Andy's mouth had dropped.

"The reason I never asked for child support is because Evan has no idea you even exist," Camille said. "Dad was fine with things. He said as long as he treated me well – which he did – and I was happy – which I was – he was for it. But your grandmother hated Evan. First of all, he was English but more importantly, he wasn't a Catholic."

"You're shitt-, kidding me," Andy said. "A lot of people encourage their daughters to fall in love with nice men with a lot of money. Did this stupid woman live in the 1800s?"

"I think she wished she did," Camille said. "Evan's parents liked me well enough. They weren't jumping up and down with joy because I was not only a commoner but also an American. But they were pleasant and I won them over."

"Wait!" Andy said. "A 'commoner'? Do you mean you were with ... no, wait he's about a hundred and he was already married. The kids are only a little older than I am."

"England still has hereditary nobility," Camille explained. "Evan was heir to an earldom. He's probably already inherited. As his oldest son, you would be his heir. In fact, if you wanted to, you could probably claim his estate and the title. That's why I didn't notify him or seek support. He asked me to marry him. I knew I would have to choose him or my family and I chose badly. I told him that I couldn't do that to my mother. He left school and returned to England and that was that. It was two weeks later than I realized I was pregnant. But if he knew he had a son here, particularly my son, he might convince a court in England to give him custody because you are the heir to a title and an estate."

"And he would have played hell on Easter getting me back there, too," Andy said. "I don't care how much money he has. Jesus Christ on a cracker, Mom, you could have been the Lady Whatever instead of working next door to a crack house."

"Don't remind me," she said.

"But I don't understand a single thing you tried to say earlier," Andy continued. "He loved you and he treated you well. His parents accepted you. What could you possibly have against rich people? It sounds to me that you should be against parents who think they can live their children's lives for them – which is exactly what you sounded like."

Chapter 7 »