Chapter Twenty-five
KING figured that he and Regina sat on that sofa for a couple of hours at least—her beside him, after his leg cramped—his arm around her, catching up on the years he’d missed: the horror of being potty trained by a maniac, her first day of nursery school—the only kid without a mother in tow. The pigtail years, her first visit from the tooth fairy, the year she stopped believing in Santa Claus, her first crush, her last . . . and the brutal end of her childhood.
King sighed. “Regina, I’m gonna tell you something.”
“Reggie,” she said.
“Right. This is the thing. You mistook sex for love, and for a love-starved teen, that’s really easy to do. I know, because I made the same mistake. But as of this minute, we’re going to put our mistakes, all of them, behind us, okay? But we’re not going to forget that a lot of good came from them. You, for one, and Jake for another.”
“You’re like the best dad ever.”
“I’m like the worst dad ever, but I’ll change, I promise. I need you to forgive me, Regina.”
“Reggie. And there’s nothing to forgive.”
“Are you kidding me? At the least, I should have sicced my lawyers on the case, once I hired lawyers. At the most, when my company took off, I should have stormed Malibu to prove I could be a good father. I deserved visitation rights.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . . I forgive you.”
King stroked her hair the way she’d stroked Jake’s, loving her little-girl head on his shoulder. “I’ll see my lawyer tomorrow,” he said. “Make us a legal family and tie us up in a big blue bow.” No spells or rituals required, he thought.
She smiled. “Speaking of blue, I need to make sure Jake’s all right.” She got up, and King did, too, but as they left the formal parlor, he put an arm around her shoulder. “Harmony’s taking good care of him, I’m sure.”
“Is she your . . . significant other?”
“No, she works here. Kind of a girl Friday, pain in the neck type.”
“But you’re friends?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Just friends?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. Guess I’m not as mature as you.” He winked.
Regina laughed, a great sound. He’d make it happen often. By God, he would.
They found Harmony and Jake asleep on Harmony’s bed, both with a fresh-washed look and wearing literal-statement tees. God knew what notions the hellcat had already put in the boy’s head. He only hoped she hadn’t read him his shirt. Harmony slept facing Jake, three kittens between them.
“Do you have luggage?” he asked Regina.
She shook her head. “The clothes on our backs and a diaper bag.”
“No problem.” King rummaged through Harmony’s dresser for a pair of shorts and a tee. “Candy Fixes Everything,” he read before handing her the shirt. “I think that’s Harmony’s mantra. Bathroom’s that way. The tub has jets, and Harmony came with a whole suitcase of scented bath stuff; I kid you not. Use whatever you find. There’s a box of new toothbrushes in the closet.”
“I’ve gone to heaven.”
“Hardly. We sleep dorm-style, but I’ll fix that. For tonight, climb in with Harmony and Jake. It’s an extraordinarily comfortable king-sized bed. If you need anything, I’ve got the next cot over. Do you think you’ll be all right in a strange place?”
“Dad, you don’t know from strange, and this won’t be the first time I share a bed with a woman I don’t know, but it’ll be the nicest bed and the nicest woman.” She patted his arm as if to console him.
“This place,” she said. “It’s a castle. Paxton Castle.” She grinned. “My imaginary home at the end of the rainbow . . . come true. I feel as if I’ve clicked my ruby heels and made it back from Oz.”
While Regina was in the bathroom, King sat on a chair and watched Harmony and Jake sleep. He had new priorities: a family. Hadn’t the witch spelled them a family this afternoon? Nonsense. Regina had been traveling for a year.
Wow, he had a daughter and a grandson. A bright grandson . . . who would not be going off to some boarding school for gifted children. They’d find a school near home. Well, Regina would. He was only the grandfather. Her call, but she didn’t seem to have Belinda’s overpriced Holly-wood ideas, thank God, so they should get along fine.
Regina came out of the bathroom looking like a little girl, kissed him on the cheek, a moment he’d cherish, and she climbed into bed. Jake turned into her arms. “Mama,” he sighed. No sooner had Regina fallen asleep than Harmony climbed out of bed, took his hand, and led him to the musty sitting room next door.
On a Victorian sofa that had seen better days, she curled into him. “Tell me what happened, Grampa.”
“I’m kinda tired, Hellcat.”
“I’m kinda freaked, Frosty.”
King sighed, bowing to the inevitable. His walls were cracked anyway. “To start with, you have to understand that at military school, I was taught control and discipline, and I ate it up.”
“Because control was safer than getting kicked in the emotions?”
He looked down at her and put his chin on her head. “Smart-mouth witch. You’re too wise for you lemon bikinis.”
“Focus, Paxton.”
“Okay. Discipline and control: I got straight A’s for that, if for nothing else. But my control slipped once. Junior year. I got a gold-digging military-school groupie pregnant—a spoiled princess, it turned out, who wanted her own castle. The consequences, however, were permanent. I got expelled and became a lousy husband. Two weeks later, we split. In the divorce, I lost my unborn child and a lifetime of visitation rights, not to mention half my trust fund, and enough monthly support for an army.”
“So you won’t slip again,” Harmony said.
“No, I won’t. Not in this lifetime. I don’t make the same mistake twice. I’m the kind who gets married once in a blue moon, so it’ll never happen again. I won’t let my emotions rule me . . . but my sexual appetite, that’s another story. You understand where I’m coming from, right?”
“In every respect, and who can blame you?”
“I blame myself for Regina’s sorry life, and, in some obscure way, for letting you down. Still friends?”
She cuffed him. “Sure.”
He caught her gaze. “Can we go to bed now?”
“With a brilliant and impressionable two-year-old in the house? Not together. Not anymore.”
King felt both a sense of pride and loss. He released his breath. “Probably best.”
Harmony toyed with his earlobe. “Did you say there was a parlor car in the train shed?”
King sighed. “Let’s get some sleep.”
She patted his chest. “Tomorrow, the parlor car.”
“We forgot the bananas,” he said.
She made swirls in the fabric of his shirt. “Think we should go back for them? That was some hot tub.”
“I was thinking of a private elevator to get down there. Nobody would know it’s there but us.”
She fanned herself. “I’m getting hot just thinking about it.”
“That’s my sexpot.”
“Yours? Am I?”
“Until the castle is restored. You keep the wind quiet, remember? I’m worried the wind’ll frighten Jake. I keep imagining him in the toy room.”
Harmony shuddered. “You finally believe she’s dangerous?”
“I have marginal proof. A bayonet wound in my ass that’s throbbing without the padded bandage I lost in the hot spring, and blue toes from a bruising chandelier. Yeah, she could be dangerous.”
“We didn’t get a chance to finish our discussion,” Harmony said. “We were rescued too soon. But have no fear, I’m hatching a plan to . . .” She looked around as if the walls, or ghosts, had ears. “My plan is to . . . make the wind happy,” she whispered.
“Sounds as witchy as you are.”
“You got that right.”
“You’re trying to scare me, again.”
“You think that’s scary? Consider this: We shared something of ourselves with each other today—besides sex—and we learned that neither of us felt wanted as children. Reggie spent the last three years feeling unwanted.”
I damned well want her.”
“That’s beside the point, and damned if you being a good dad isn’t a turn-on, but I’m trying to paint you a picture here. As the unexpected child of a . . . child, Jake must have started life unwanted, if only for a few panicky days or months. You see where I’m going with this?”
“Uh, no, sorry. I was, er, reading your breasts again, and I got distracted. Playtime Is Never Over. Is that a hint?”
“I didn’t want to scar your daughter and grandson.”
“Thanks. What does Jake’s shirt say?”
“I Brake for Unicorns. I got it in honor of my sister Vickie. Long story, very romantic, but the shirt’s a commentary on how she found her Scot. Can we get back to the subject at hand?”
“Which is?” King kissed her head. “You smell of peppermint again.”
“So does your grandson. We took a shower together.”
“Lucky son of a . . . Paxton.”
“Focus, King. I know you short-circuited today, but try, please. The connection is being unwanted—you, me, Reggie, Jake—we all have that in common, and for some karmic reason, we’re together in an unwanted castle.”
“I never said I didn’t want the castle. I just don’t want the headaches that come with it, the wind included.”
“So you do want the castle?”
“In a way. My ex wants it, too, but that doesn’t mean she’s getting it. You know, my ex reminds me of Gussie in a lot of ways: controlling, self-centered, mean-spirited. The problem, as I see it, is that Regina considers the castle her home, at the end of the blooming rainbow, her dream come true.”
“Another reason you shouldn’t sell. You have a family, King. Exactly what you wanted. Start having meals in the kitchen. Redo a family wing. Jake needs structure. Routine. It wouldn’t hurt your daughter any, either.”
“Now wait a minute.”
“Fatherhood’s a tough job, if you do it right. Are you ready to tell Reggie that her home’s up for grabs, that after a year of trekking across the country with a baby in tow, she isn’t home?”
“You really piss me off, Cartwright.”
“I think we’ve established that. But I turn you on, too.” Harmony ran her sensuous fingers through his hair as she nudged his head down to hers, until their mouths nearly touched, anticipation running to all his ready parts.
“Playtime is never over,” she whispered.
“Grampa, I can’t sleep.”