Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

“Hmm,” Delilah said. “But is he any good in bed?”

Lori groaned. “I remember when you kept hounding Katie to take a lover. Sex doesn’t solve all problems.”

“No, but good sex can sure make problems seem easier,” she said, stroking her daughter Maggie’s hair. “And in my case, I sometimes get a bonus.”

Lori smiled at her little niece. “I can’t disagree with that.” She extended her arms. “Your mom gets you all the time. Come to Auntie Lori for a hug.”

Her niece pitched forward, and Lori caught her small body. Maggie wrapped her arms around Lori’s neck and squeezed. Lori felt her heart swell with affection. “You are the sweetest girl in the world,” she said to her niece. “How many are you going to have?” Lori asked Delilah. “Two out and one on the way. Are you going for an even dozen? If so, may I put in an order for one?”

Delilah shook her head. “I’ll pause at three and stop at four.” She studied Lori. “You should get married so you can start making some of your own.”

Lori fought a quick twist of pain at Delilah’s suggestion. Neither of her sisters knew the true extent of damage Lori had sustained from her accident years ago. Delilah didn’t know Lori may not be able to have children.

Lori flashed a teasing smile at her sister.

“I can’t believe my unconventional sister is telling me to get married.”

“Well, on second thought, Harlan left you so much money, you could raise twelve of your own. You could probably afford to just get pregnant through artificial insemination, but where’s the fun in that?”

Geoffrey Taylor heard the chord in his head. It would lead into the bridge of his current musical creation. He heard the sound of a cat screaming in the background, beyond the closed wooden door of his music room, and he tried to shut it out, narrowing his concentration on the beautiful sounds inside his head.

He stretched his fingers into a chord on the century-old grand piano and played. He frowned. Not quite right. It didn’t quite match-

The wooden door burst open. A plump woman with wet orange hair and a wet red face shrieked at him. “Geoffrey, the loo is broken again! We need to get it fixed! Permanently,” his stepsister, Danielle, added.

Geoffrey frowned. He wanted that note, that chord. If he could just get that one chord, it would be enough for now. Holding up his hand and mentally shutting off his stepsister’s shrieks, he continued on the keyboard. Almost there, almost-

“Geoffrey!” His stepmother’s voice interrupted his concentration.

Geoffrey gave up. His stepmother’s voice was the ultimate mood killer. He looked up at the face that had made his late father tumble like the proverbial Jack from Jack and Jill. Although her youthful glow was dimming and lines were beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth, her skin still looked like a porcelain doll’s, her lips were lush and pink, and her eyes were blue like the summer sky.

Geoffrey knew the truth, however. Behind those innocent-looking blue eyes lurked the instincts of a killer shark with a voracious, unquenchable appetite for designer clothing, jewels, antiques, holidays in Monte Carlo, and generally living beyond her means.

“Geoffrey, look at your sister. This has gone entirely too far. The manor is in total disrepair. Your father never would have permitted the home of generations of Taylors to deteriorate into this kind of condition.”

His father wouldn’t have been permitted to permit it. Charlene would have nagged him twenty-four hours a day, and then his father would have gone into debt to keep his yellow rose from Texas happy. “I’m sorry, Charlene, but as you know, my father may have left his title behind, but he didn’t leave the kind of money you’ve grown accustomed to spending.”

Geoffrey couldn’t recall how many times he’d repeated the same words to Charlene during the last three years.

“Yes, but Gilmore is your responsibility now. You are the heir. Your father trusted you to care for Danielle and me.”

Unlike his father, Geoffrey wasn’t the least bit chauvinistic. As far as Geoffrey was concerned, it was high time Charlene got a job to help support her spending habits. “I’ll remind you that my father was deeply indebted and we almost lost Gilmore because of it. I managed to cover his debts and provide us with a modest income.”

“Selling collectibles on eBay,” Danielle said with a snort. “Why can’t you get a real job instead of spending all your time in here playing your weird music?”

Geoffrey ground his teeth. He was a classically trained musician with special abilities in composing music. He knew that one day he would be paid well for his work. Until then, he needed to continue the discipline of putting down on paper the music that soared through his mind. He also needed to be frugal.

“Danielle needs to go to college,” Charlene told him. “NYU in Manhattan.”

Geoffrey tensed, feeling a sickening sense of foreboding. “But she hasn’t been accepted, has she?”

“Of course she has,” Charlene said. “I met the wife of the president at one of the parties I attended in New York several years ago. We stayed in touch.”

“Does she have a scholarship?”

“No, but Danielle has worked hard on her studies the past two years. She took her father’s death very hard. Despite that, she’s done well, and her efforts should be rewarded.”

Geoffrey bit the inside of his cheek. “That’s going to be dreadfully expensive. Are you sure there isn’t another-” He cleared his throat. “-more reasonable option?”

Charlene narrowed her eyes to slits. “You have a lot of nerve considering you’ve spent years in the finest schools earning a doctorate that will qualify you to ask the question ‘Would you like fries with that?’”

“I was offered scholarships,” he retorted.

Charlene’s cheeks turned scarlet, almost purple. The color of her rage, he thought. He’d seen it many times before.

She pursed her lips. “Danielle, I need to speak to Geoffrey alone. Run along and clean up.”

“But Mother-”

“Now,” Charlene said.

Danielle gave a huff and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Charlene closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply.

“Are you feeling faint?” Geoffrey asked hopefully.

“No. I’m aligning myself with my inner core.”

Her inner core? He hadn’t known she had an inner core. In fact, Geoffrey had always suspected Charlene’s backbone was formed from some slimy form of rubber. Her morals depended on the day, the situation, whom she needed to impress, and, most important, what she wanted.

She opened her eyes. “A week ago, I did something which I believe will ease the burden you have felt in providing for Danielle and myself since your father passed away.”

Geoffrey’s stomach dropped. “You didn’t sell the piano,” he said. The piano had been in his family for generations. It was his prize possession.

It was his prize possession even though it technically belonged to his stepmother. In a fit of passion-driven insanity, Geofrey’s father had altered his will immediately after his marriage to Charlene and left some of the contents of the house to his new bride. Those contents included the piano. He would live in a box in order to keep that piano.

“No, although I’ve considered it once or twice. Since you’re quite obsessed with continuing to pursue a career in music despite the fact that you haven’t profited from it in any shape or form, I decided it was time to take extraordinary measures.”