Genuine Lies

the one to tie those knots.” She blew out a stream of smoke. Behind its veil her eyes were full of power and purpose in a calm, pale face. “And I needed the contact. I needed to see her, dammit. To touch her, to watch for myself what kind of woman she’d become. And the child, my grandchild, I wanted a few weeks to get toknow him. If I go to hell for that sin, so be it. It’s been worth more than most of the others I’ve committed.” “Did you tell her that?”
    She laughed and crushed out the cigarette half finished. “She has a temper, and pride. I didn’t have time to tell her much of anything before she clawed at me. With perfect justification. I’d reneged on the deal, after all. I’d given her away, and had no right to try to take her back.”
    She rose to walk to the window. In the black glass she saw her own reflection, like the ghost she felt herself becoming.
    “But my God, Paul, the longer I was around her, the more I came to care for her. I could see pieces of myself in her, and pieces of Victor. I’ve never in my life felt such a need for another human being, unless it was a man. I’ve never known such a whole, unselfish love for anyone. Anyone else but you.” She turned back, her eyes wet. “She was the child I couldn’t have. You were the child I always wanted.”
    “And you were my mother, Eve. Julia had one of her own. She’ll need time.”
    “I know.” She turned away again, feeling the burden on her heart increase. “I know.”
    “Eve, why didn’t you ever tell Victor?”
    Weary, she laid her head on the glass. “I thought about it, then and a hundred times since. He might have left his wife, you know. He might have come to me, free. As much as he would have loved the child, I wonder if he would ever have forgiven me. I would never have forgiven myself for accepting him under those terms.”
    “Will you tell him now?”
    “I think that should be Julia’s choice.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Does she know you’re here?” “No.”
    “Will you tell her?” “Yes, I will.” “You love her.”
    Though it wasn’t a question, he answered. “More than I knew I was capable of loving anyone. I want her, and Brandon. No matter what it takes.”
    Satisfied, she nodded. “Let me give you one piece of unsolicited advice. Let nothing stand in your way. Nothing. Least of all me.” She held out her hands, waiting for him to stand and come to her to take them. “I have some things to see to tomorrow. Details. In the meantime, I’m trusting you to take care of her.”
    “I intend to, whether she likes it or not.”
    “Go back to her, then. I’ll be fine.” Eve lifted her face for his kiss, held on a moment longer. “I’ll always be grateful I’ve had you.”
    “We’ve had each other. Don’t worry about Julia.”
    “I won’t. Now. Good night, Paul.”
    He kissed her again. “Good night, gorgeous.”
    When he had gone, she went directly to the phone and dialed. “Greenburg, this is Eve Benedict.” She tossed back her head and picked up a cigarette. “Yes, goddammit, I know what time it is. You can charge me double whatever outrageous rates you lawyers charge. I need you here within the hour.”
    She hung up on his protest, then grinned. She felt almost like her old self.

Less than twenty-four hours after Julia’s plane accident, Paul arranged to meet with the pilot. Jack Brakerman had worked for Eve more than five years, hooking the job through Paul himself. While doing research for a book that had involved smuggling, mayhem, and murder in the air, Paul had been impressed by Jack’s knowledge and skill.
    By the time it was finished, Paul had had enough material for two books, and Jack Brakerman had been able to quit flying cargo to take private passengers. His first client had been Eve.
    Paul met him at a diner near the airport, where the food was greasy, the coffee hot, and the service prompt. The table was a circular slice of particle board coated with a sheet of linoleum that tried, unsuccessfully, to look like marble. Someone had paid for country on the juke, and Hank Williams, Jr., was moaning about the woman who done him wrong.
    “Hell of a place, isn’t it?” Jack pulled one of the miserly paper napkins out of its metal dispenser to wipe up the circles of wet left by the previous patrons’ glasses. “Don’t look like much, but they got the best goddamn blueberry pie in the state. Want a slice?”
    “Sure.”
    Jack signaled the waitress