Scarlett Sinner (The Scarletts Read online

  She laughed. "I know without a shadow of a doubt that Lola and I are not related. Her parents live in Quatar."

  "But my real dad was originally from Canada," Lola said hastily. "My father moved to the UAE and met my Mom. He was an engineer; he died when I was a baby. And no, he was not a Scarlett."

  "You have no accent though," Troy said. "You two even sound alike."

  "Training, bro," Terri snickered. "Voice training. We have the airline accent."

  "So you have any brothers?" Troy looked at Lola, still not adjusting to the sensation of having two Terris before him. Though the longer he looked between them, the more he could see differences. Subtle differences. Terri's features were finer. Her eyes had a deeper, catlike curve. Her nose was straighter.

  "Yup. Three." Lola smirked. "None of them look like you, though."

  "Or Yuri," Terri added quickly. "Lola's oldest brother is a hotty but he has three wives already. They are only allowed four and I would not want to be four."

  "That's a relief," Troy murmured. He glanced between Lola and his sister periodically and then shook his head.

  "All of this is a bit hard to take in. Wait, I need a picture for Yuri and Mom and Dad." He took their picture with his phone. Terri and Lola posed and grinned with identical smiles.

  "So, did you like the surprise?" Terri grinned. "I couldn't just tell you. I thought seeing would be believing but we have to leave on the next flight out of here, which is at one. We wouldn't have time to go to Treasure Beach."

  "And I wanted to see Jamaica," Lola said. "I have never been here…so we hopped on a flight for a day out."

  Troy nodded. "I still find this amazing."

  "You wouldn't date me, would you, Troy?" Lola asked, batting her eyes at him.

  "Heavens, no." Troy shuddered, he pointed to his wedding ring. "I am already married and you look a little too much like my sister for comfort. It would be disturbingly weird."

  Lola sighed dramatically. "No worries, I am betrothed to be wife number three to Prince Hamad bin Ali Al Jerza anyway. Totally unavailable until then."

  Terri grinned. "Don't get her started, Troy. She can go on and on about her misfortune to be engaged to an honest-to-goodness prince."

  Troy was fascinated, though. "A real prince?"

  "Yes." Lola rolled her eyes. "There are hundreds of them in the royal palace of Jerza. Or to be technically correct, the house of Jerza."

  "But her prince is sumptuous and one of the powerful ones," Terri said, smacking her lips obscenely.

  "And old." Lola shook her head. "He is fifty-five. My mother, bless her soul, is a royal groupie. Her second husband is of royal lineage; that’s why she married him, I guess.

  "And the two of them, without my knowledge or consent, arranged a marriage for me with Hamad, who by the way already has a dozen kids with his two wives. Why he wants a third wife is beyond me."

  "Youth." Terri snickered. "Variety."

  "Hello," Lola squeaked, "I am not Muslim. I would never feel comfortable in a burqa or whatever and living in a palace with my own staff while I sit pretty waiting for my husband to show up. Nor am I a virgin. I had a boyfriend before this. They are going to get in trouble when Hamad consummates this relationship and realizes that I am tainted."

  Terri chuckled. "Just say no, Lola. It's not as if you are even fully Middle Eastern."

  "I can’t." Lola shook her head in frustration. "The contract is already made; money has exchanged hands. Hamad or I would have to die for it not to be consummated. Maybe he will; he is a heavy smoker."

  Troy was listening to the two women as they talked.

  He shook his head. "This all sounds fascinating."

  "It's frustrating. I can feel my freedom being sucked up as we speak." Lola got up. "I am going to get something to eat."

  She left them together and Troy watched her leave. She was the same height as Terri. She was just a little bit slimmer, more boyish in shape. He turned around and looked at his sister.

  "I am hallucinating, aren't I?"

  "Nope. Lola is very real and if I don't return before takeoff she will find a Jamaican guy to flirt with and break the poor guy’s heart." Terri polished off her omelet, eating fast, as if she hadn't eaten in days. "I love the food here," she said with her mouth full.

  "Return from where?" Troy frowned. "Where are you planning to go?"

  Terri sipped her water. "I am going with you to meet Todd. I couldn't believe my good fortune when I got a flight yesterday."

  "I wanted to do this alone," Troy said. "I didn't want an audience."

  Terri stared at him stonily. "I left from Germany for this. I had to carry Lola along because she insisted. We'll leave her here and then I’ll come with you to meet my nephew. What time were you planning on going?"

  "Nine o’clock," Troy said promptly. "Why do you always get your own way and why are you so bossy?"

  "Because I am your little sister and I mean well. I don't know when I'll be back so this is a great opportunity to meet my newest, oldest nephew."

  Chapter Six

  It was five after nine when they pulled up at 125 Lane Street. They had to walk with Lola on the hip strip while she skipped in glee through the street and stopped at every storefront.

  Troy had enjoyed Lola's exuberance but now his headache had come back in earnest. He wished now that he had eaten breakfast and not just had juice; his stomach was tied up in knots.

  He looked in the rearview mirror. He looked scared. His left eye was slightly bloodshot. He could see the veins bulging at the side of his head. This was what a little boy did to him.

  "Take deep breaths," Terri whispered beside him, but he realized that she looked nervous too. Surprisingly, that calmed him down somewhat.

  "I am not panicking," Troy whispered hoarsely. "I am fine. He is just a little boy."

  "Remember that time when Pops carried that orange tabby home? Remember? That was like the first Charlie cat that I can remember from childhood. I was around five. You were probably seven. Pops gave us a lecture about how to treat Charlie and we were afraid we'd harm him. ‘No pulling Charlie's tail, no poking him in his eyes. No dropping him from high heights.’"

  Troy chuckled. "Pops was very knowledgeable about cats."

  "He scared us rotten that we would hurt Charlie," Terri said hoarsely. "We thought that the least little movement would shatter poor Charlie into a mess of fur and bones."

  "That lasted all of three days," Troy laughed. "We found you putting Dad's shaving cream all over the poor cat and Yuri did drop him from the roof. I was the only one poor Charlie liked. He was sick of you two."

  "There was that." Terri grinned. "You are a nurturer; cats and children like you."

  Troy looked over at her and smiled.

  "Feel better?"

  "Yes." Troy gripped her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for coming with me."

  "You are welcome." Terri nodded and then asked briskly. "Did you prepare a room for him and buy him toys and games to stimulate his mind?"

  "Yes. Well, Mom did. I had no idea what to do. She also bought him a whole slew of clothes. I am not really familiar with how to handle little boys. It is one thing to be one and then it’s another thing to rear one, if you know what I mean."

  "I know what you mean." Terri glanced at her brother sideways. "You can do this."

  "I can do this." Troy nodded. "I can be a single dad and not screw up his life forever."

  Terri chuckled. "Yes, you can and you have help. Mom, Dad, Yuri, me, Reuben."

  Troy inhaled raggedly. "But not Chelsea. This is not how I wanted things to go, Terri."

  "I know." Terri nodded. "But it happened and you'll be fine. This time next year you'll be an old hand at this."

  Troy got out of the car at the same time that the front door of the house opened.

  It was a modest cookie cutter house in a neighborhood where all the houses looked alike.

  The lady at the door was younger than he thought she would be
, maybe in her thirties. She had a kind face; she was chubby and had an easy smile.

  "Mr. Scarlett?" she asked. Her voice was smooth and sweet.

  "Yes." Troy reached the door with Terri behind him. A little face peered out from behind her dress.

  "I am Tatlyn Harris."

  "Yes," Troy answered absently. He was trying to see the little boy.

  "And this is Todd." She pulled him from behind her.

  He looked up at Troy boldly.

  Terri was the first to gasp. "He looks like Pops!"

  Tatlyn smiled. "Who is Pops?"

  "Our grandfather," Terri whispered.

  "He looks like you too." Tatlyn observed. Her voice sounded relieved, as if she had doubts about Troy being Todd's real family.

  Troy inhaled. Todd really did look like Pops and Terri. Same reddish brown hair and hazel eyes.

  He had just needed a picture. If he had gotten a picture he wouldn't have needed that DNA test and he probably wouldn't have hidden away for ten long months. Todd resembled his sister Dahlia and his great-grandfather and his aunt Terri and all the scores of relatives in Pedro.

  "Hello Todd." Troy's voice was hoarse.

  "Hello," Todd answered solemnly. He went over to Troy and hugged him around the leg and then moved to Terri, who had stooped down to his level and hugged her.

  Terri reciprocated, hugging him close to her and kissing him in his curly hair.

  "That's our Todd," Tatlyn said wistfully. "Very affectionate child. We'll miss him when he is gone."

  Troy's throat closed up.

  He was going to love this boy. He had taken one look at him and knew without a doubt that he would.

  *****

  "Chelsea Scarlett!" Chelsea lowered her book reluctantly and looked in the direction of the voice that called her.

  She was at her third interview in three weeks; jobs were not very thick on the ground in this part of the island, especially since she did not a day of experience.

  She was sitting in a real estate office with four other applicants around her for the job of business manager of the Junction branch of the office. The interviews were running late.

  Her eyes opened wide when Ricky Mills stood in front of her with a smile on his face, his head leaned to one side. He was contemplating her with a speculative gleam in his eye.

  "How are you?"

  "Fine," Chelsea murmured. The four other persons around her were looking at the two of them with interest.

  Everybody knew of Ricky in these parts. He was the topic of both rumors and speculation, a very rich guy who could buy anything he wanted.

  "Buying property?" Ricky asked, his eyebrows raised.

  Chelsea laughed. "I wish. I am here for an interview."

  "Interesting." Ricky smiled with her. "Let’s talk some more." He indicated the door.

  Chelsea frowned but she got up. Why not? She wasn't due to go in for the interview for another half an hour.

  "So why is the good pastor's wife at an interview?" Ricky asked when she went outside. The sun and the warmth hit her and she squinted at him.

  "The usual reason. I am at an interview because I want a job."

  "That goes without saying. Sorry if my question was a bit obvious." Ricky smiled. His straight white teeth were almost dazzling. "What a coincidence, though. I have an opening for a manager at Villa Ingles. I haven't advertised yet but..."

  Chelsea's heart jumped. "I have a business degree. I can run a villa."

  Ricky stared at her for the longest while, a question in his face. "You haven't spoken to Yuri about me, have you?"

  "No." Chelsea frowned. "Why?"

  "Nothing—well, the fact that he is with Marla now…she was married to me, you know?" Ricky looked at her intently.

  "I know but I have not been keeping up much with the family news these days." Chelsea shrugged. "I have my own stuff going on."

  Ricky nodded as if he had come to some satisfying conclusion. "You can have the job if you want it. The outgoing manager, Janet Long—you know her?"

  "Not exactly." Chelsea nodded eagerly. "I know of her."

  "She's leaving to be a part of a team at a hotel I recently acquired."

  "Okay." Chelsea nodded.

  "If you come by, say tomorrow, she will have a full month to show you the ropes."

  "Thank you." Chelsea looked at Ricky gratefully. He was not as bad as Terri made him out to be. He was a godsend, really.

  "Come by tomorrow." Ricky came closer to her and shook her hand. "Well, this was a lovely coincidence, Chelsea Scarlett."

  "I'd say." Chelsea shook his hand vigorously.

  Ricky stepped back from her. "I'll tell Callie to strike you off the interview list."

  "Thank you." Chelsea nodded. "Thanks a lot."

  "No problem, I am a friend of the Scarletts." Ricky walked toward the office and left her standing in the parking lot, bemused.

  This was a sign. She had asked God for a sign and to her this was it. An honest-to-goodness job where she could be closer to her parents’ house and Dahlia could be close to Daisy, an ever-ready and non-complaining baby sitter.

  It was just a short drive to work and when she acquired enough money, she could start looking into divorce lawyers.

  She had not heard a word from Troy in the past three weeks and she liked it like that. If she never heard from him again she would be fine.

  Sometimes she did wonder, though, about Erin's child. Had Troy met him yet? None of her business really, not anymore.

  She looked around the parking lot. What she should do now is go to Pedro, sort out her clothes and pack up her stuff.

  That was long overdue. That part of her life was over. She was going to embark on a brand new start.

  ****

  Chelsea should have known that nothing was as easy as it sounded. She drove up into her driveway and saw that Troy's car was parked there. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel.

  It brought back memories of college days when they had broken up in third year for four weeks. The first time she had seen him after that tumultuous break up he had looked so good.

  She had forgotten what it was that he had supposedly done. This time was different, though. She would remember and she would not be impressed by his smooth good looks or his gentle way of speaking or the fact that for five years she used to get up in the morning and stare at him while he slept and considered herself blessed among women. Her heart was hardened. One could not forget a child. That was a big thing, a major thing.

  She got out of the car. The yard was neatly cut; the orange tree at the front was burdened with overripe oranges. Nobody really picked them because the oranges were very sour. They looked pretty, though, on the outside. Just like her life had been.

  She let herself into the house and was bombarded with the sight of toys. Some of them were Dahlia's. She clenched her hand on the door and took in a deep breath. So the boy was here. Definitely. She heard talking in the kitchen, a childish voice and an adult one.

  She clenched her teeth and headed for the master bedroom. She didn't want to talk to Troy or meet his child. Not today. Not ever.

  Her clothes were all still neatly hanging in the closet, right where she left them. She sat in front of it, blinking away tears. There was no use feeling sorry. She was not the one who had broken up her marriage.

  She started taking down her clothes one by one. She probably should just throw them in the back of the car with the hangers still attached. It would make it easier for her to hang them up later.

  "Chelsea." She jumped when she heard Troy's voice. She looked toward the door and saw that he was dressed in blue jeans and a faded blue shirt. He was clean-shaven. He looked good and solid and sexy. Manly. She loved to see him in those particular blue jeans. She blanked her mind from her weakening thoughts and hardened her heart instead.

  "Troy." Her voice was hard and frosty cold. A wealth of meaning went into the utterance of his name.

  He winced. Message received.


  "I didn't hear you come in."

  "Okay." She continued her packing, placing one piece of clothes on the next one.

  "Are you ready to talk yet?" His voice was cautious after her greeting, as he should be.

  Chelsea shook her head. She was ridiculously near tears, like a weak ninny. She wanted to scream at him to turn back time and to make things better.

  "No." She cleared her throat. "Whatever we need to say can be said through our lawyers."

  He ignored that and came closer into the room and leaned on the wall, folding his arm in a defensive stance. "I would like Dahlia to meet her brother tomorrow."

  Chelsea stiffened. If it was not tomorrow it would be some other time. She grudgingly grumbled, "Fine."

  "I am carrying him to Mom and Dad’s. They already met him."

  "Good for them," she said. Her voice had gone husky with suppressed tears. "Daisy has always wanted a whole bunch of grandchildren to spoil. She would be ecstatic."

  "Would you like to meet him? He's here. The first night he had to sleep with the lights on, but now he is fine..."

  "Stop." She finally looked at him. "No. I am not interested in meeting him or hearing little anecdotes about him. You know what I would prefer, Troy?"

  "What?" Troy asked. He was looking at her with painful intensity.

  "I would prefer if we just confine our conversations to our mutual child, the one that we had together in holy matrimony."

  She gathered the clothes that she had laid out on the bed and carried them to the car. It took her three trips before she got everything out of the closet and into the back seat of her car.

  Troy stood by and watched her. He wasn't going to stop her or force them to talk.

  "Good."

  That was a relief. Because she was this close to shouting at him. This close to unleashing all the pent-up jealous thoughts that she had running through her head. She couldn't stop them; they just gathered in a ugly cloud, waiting to be unleashed.

  She went into the garage for the boxes she had gotten to store her shoes. When she came back into the room with them she saw a wide-eyed little boy in the hall.