Five minutes after leaving the lodge, Ryan was asleep. George had done his job - the road was clear. Huge mounds of snow on either side created a white-walled canyon she carefully threaded her way through. They were in town in less than half an hour. Diana felt a wave of relief wash over her as they turned the last corner into Claire's neighbourhood; the low, flat roofline of her daughter's home stood at the end of the cul-de-sac. A moment later she dialed a number Claire had given her into her phone and watched the iron and redwood gate tuck out of the way. As she headed toward the house she was surprised to see that the maintenance company had already cleared the snow from the driveway. She dialed one more code and waited as one of the garage doors slid open. Pulling into the parking bay was like wrapping herself in a warm blanket - she was so glad the last twenty-four hours were behind her. She pressed the ignition switch and leaned her forehead on the steering wheel as the engine came to a stop. The garage door closed behind her to seal off the outside world. Finally there was silence. They were home, safe and sound.
She gave her son's hand a squeeze. "Ryan, Hon, we're home. Time to wake up." He squinted at her in the bright lights of the garage, groggy from the sleep he'd fallen into, far too short a sleep after all of the events of the last day and night.
"Mmm, we're here already? That didn't take long."
"No, it didn't. Especially if you sleep your way through the drive," she smiled. She gave his cheek a gentle stroke. "Sweetheart, you must be exhausted. Let's get our things and go inside."
He pulled the latch and put his shoulder to the door. Still frozen. "Looks like I'll be heading out your way again, Mom." He watched her swing her legs out and stand up. She turned and offered her hand to him. He climbed over the centre console, took her hand and pulled himself up and out of the car. He turned back, leaned in and pressed the hood release switch. Nothing. "I guess we'll just have to wait for it to warm up," he shrugged.
"In the meantime, I hear a glass of wine calling my name," she sighed. Diana pulled a small journal from her purse, leafed through a few pages and found the last set of numbers Claire had given her. She entered them into the keypad beside the door and waited. A few short beeps announced that they were welcome to come in. He held the door open for her and they stepped into the hallway. Lights flicked themselves on as the two of them made their way into the main area of the house.
"Claire has done alright, hasn't she," Diana commented, looking around. "I'm so glad to see how well things have worked out for her." Claire, gifted with her mother's looks, had followed Diana into a successful modeling career. Diana's agency had all the right connections and Claire had all the right talents; it didn't take her long to reach the upper echelons of the world-wide fashion scene and it wouldn't be long before she matched her mother's success. Learning from Diana's experience, Claire bought a home far from prying eyes. It was in a quiet, tightly controlled enclave nestled into the side of the mountain. The modern design was cantilevered into the hillside, walls of glass offering million dollar views across the wide valley. Her parents had pitched in on the purchase; it was still too early in Claire's career for her to be able to afford a property like this yet Diana knew how important it was to have a safe haven. She'd learned the hard way and hadn't given it a second thought when Claire came to her parents, asking for help to buy the place.
Diana kicked off her shoes, dropped her purse onto the console table and collapsed into the deep comfort of the sofa. Ryan draped his jacket over a chair and headed for the wine closet, returning with two glasses of red. She gratefully accepted one. They touched glasses and she moaned with pleasure as the silky liquid crossed her tongue. He stood at the wall of glass and watched the setting sun leave its final touches of gold on the snowy landscape, then turned back, lit the fireplace in the centre of the room and slumped down into the far end of the sofa. She tucked her silk-covered feet under his thigh and nestled down deeper, placing her glass on the floor. She propped her head up on one hand and watched as he took another sip of wine. "It was quite the experience, wasn't it?"
He turned to her, eyebrows raised. "I never knew you had such a talent for understatement, Mom." He nodded, "Yes, it was
quite
the experience." He slipped his hand down onto her ankle, "Quite the experience."
She pulled her feet up and rested them on his leg. He set his glass down on the low table in front of him, took her feet in his hands and began a gentle massage. "Ohhhh, yes," she moaned, "they've been begging for that." She straightened her legs and stretched, feeling the tension leave her body. He gave her a side-long glance, his eyes tracing the slender curves of her silky long legs, up to where they disappeared under her dress. He slid a hand up her leg, caressing it with his fingertips. She shivered. "Hey, that tickles," she smiled. She sat up and brought her knees to her chin, letting her dress slide up her legs, not caring that he could see the tops of her stockings, nor the oval of satin covering the grooved bulge between her thighs. She sat there for a while, silently staring off into the distance. A few minutes later she shook herself awake again, leaned down and picked up her glass of wine. She took another sip then slumped back into the sofa and began running a slender finger around the rim of the glass, watching the firelight sparkle in the crystal.
"So...Ryan...I think there's a rather large elephant in the room, isn't there, Hon?"
He turned to her and cleared his throat. "Ah, yes...yes, I think you're right. Do you want to...want to talk about it?"
"I don't think we have much choice, do we? We can't pretend it didn't happen. At least, I know I can't."
"Neither can I, believe me."
"Do you regret it?"
"No! No, I don't regret a single thing. In fact, there have been many times that I've imagined us-"
"Yes," she interrupted, "and if we are going to be honest with each other then you need to know I've done the same - for a long time. And I have no regrets either." She set her glass down on the table then slid across the sofa and leaned into him, taking his hand in hers, laying her head on his shoulder. "After all we've been through: your father, the business problems, bodyguards, Claire's wedding - this feels like the first good thing to happen in a long time."
His mind drifted back through the events of the last eighteen months: they'd been a happy family - or so it seemed. Claire's career was skyrocketing, Diana's agency had been signing more A-list talent, Ryan had done a very good job managing and expanding the European side of their cosmetics and clothing business. Everything seemed to be clicking into place. Then it had all come suddenly crashing down. Almost two years ago she had received a call from the NYPD, asking for a meeting, within the hour if possible. Shortly after, two detectives, a young man and older woman, sat across the table from her and proceeded to shatter her world. It seemed her husband had just killed himself, and in a most dramatic way, by jumping from their business jet as it was flying from Milan to London. The flight crew had been lucky to survive the effect of the emergency exit suddenly being opened at that altitude. Search teams on both sides of the channel were now looking for the body. The police made every effort to be sympathetic but at the same time they had to ask some very hard questions about her husband's habits, his business arrangements, her relationship with him - any information that would help them determine why he'd done it.
The case was overseen by Interpol. Once their attention focussed on her husband, agencies on both sides of the Atlantic began to discover his connections with a criminal organization, his embezzlement of business funds, his women on the side, especially young models and actresses hoping for contracts with the agency. It was a disaster, and a monumental task to control the damage, to try to stabilize the family, to try to understand the man she thought she knew. It felt as though nothing in Diana's life had escaped harm.
