Joan Johnston - Invincible

“I wouldn’t look so smug if I were you,” Bella said.

“Why not?” Foster said.

“Your children are making their way here from a few miles up the road. It’s understandable if mine aren’t able to come from halfway around the world. And I’m expecting Max to turn up at any moment.”

“One out of five,” Foster mused. “Frankly, one more than I expected.”

“You’ve always been a son of a bitch, Foster.”

“You’re the bitch incarnate,” Foster shot back.

“How dare you!” Emily said, rising from her chair to confront Foster. “Take that back.”

Foster laughed viciously. “Take it back?” He turned to Bella and said, “Tell your minion to back off, Bella. Or I’ll have her for breakfast.”

Emily looked flustered, but she stood her ground.

“Sit down, Emily,” Bella said in an even voice. Then she focused her narrowed eyes on Foster and said, “Don’t threaten Emily again, or I’ll have to retaliate in a way you won’t like.”

“What would that be?”

“Use your imagination,” Bella said. “You know I make good on my promises.”

The last time they’d locked horns Bella had arranged for Foster to lose an extraordinary amount of money on one of his investments. Foster understood the power of money.

His mouth turned down in a sour look. “Like I said. You’re a bitch.”

He turned back to the silver coffeepot and continued his recitation as though their altercation had never happened. “Just so you know, Ben brought his fiancée, Anna,” he said as he poured coffee into a china teacup. “Carter’s home on leave from duty in Iraq, so he invited his girl, Sloan, to come for the day.”

He added a spoonful of sugar, then turned to her with china cup in hand. “I’m surprising Patsy by having Amanda and Bethany and Camille flown in on the family jet from that French boarding school they attend. I pick them up in Richmond before lunch.”

“I’m sure Patsy will enjoy having her daughters here,” Bella said neutrally. She was willing to be just exactly as polite as Foster was. Besides, she’d never had any enmity for Patsy or her three daughters. The elder two girls were twins with curly blond hair who resembled their mother. The younger had dark hair like her father.

To be perfectly honest, Bella liked Patsy Benedict. Foster’s second wife would never be called thin or chic, but Patsy had warm hazel eyes and had always been extraordinarily kind to her.

But from the beginning, there had never been any love lost between her and her brother-in-law. The first time Foster had met her, he’d called her “a conniving bitch.” He was the one who’d insisted on the prenup. This was the first time they’d come in contact with one another in ten years. It seemed Foster’s animosity had survived her separation from Bull intact.

Which caused her to reply to his recitation with just a little satisfaction of her own, “I’m sure it will be nice to have most of your children here for Mother’s Day. But I can’t help wondering, where is their mother?”

Foster cleared his throat uncomfortably. “She’ll be here.”

“Why didn’t Patsy come with you from Washington?”

Bella knew that Foster, a retired four-star general, currently served as an advisor to the president on terrorism. He and Patsy had a brick home in the Fan District of Richmond, but Foster spent most of his time in another large home they owned in Chevy Chase, Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C.

“Patsy’s been staying at her father’s ranch in Texas the past few months,” Foster said. “Her father’s been ill.”

“Then it’s nice you’ll have a chance to get together today. When is she arriving? Are you picking her up at the airport, too?”

Foster cleared his throat again. “She said she’d make her own travel arrangements.”

Bella knew more about the situation between Foster and his second wife than she’d let on. She had enough social contacts in the Capitol to hear the rumors that Patsy and Foster had separated several months ago. Bella wasn’t sure of the exact problem, but it must have been something serious, since the couple had been together for nearly twenty years. She could understand why Foster didn’t want her around, if he was attempting a reconciliation with his wife.

Well, Bella wouldn’t get in his way. For Patsy’s sake, if not his. Besides, she had enough problems of her own. How was she going to get her sons married off before she died, if they were determined to avoid her company?

Bella had employed Warren & Warren Investigations, with its main offices in Dallas, Texas, often over the years to keep tabs on her children. Sam Warren’s information had always been reliable. She rarely interfered in her children’s lives, but once or twice, as they were growing up, she’d come to the rescue of one or another of her sons without his knowledge.

She’d helped anonymously, because she’d known none of them would want or appreciate her help. Lydia had remained loyal to her mother after the separation, but she knew the boys blamed her for breaking up their once-happy family.

It was your fault. You’re guilty as charged.

There were circumstances she’d never had a chance to explain that might have excused her behavior, if only Bull had been willing to listen. He’d been too angry to hear reason. And she’d felt too betrayed to explain.

She’d stood shocked and heartbroken as Foster tried to goad his brother into divorcing her. His diatribe was indelibly etched in her memory.

“She was a bitch when you met her, and she hasn’t changed one iota in the twenty-five years you’ve been married to her. I say cut your losses and get the hell out while you can.”

Bella wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive Bull for refusing to listen to her. Although, at this point, it didn’t really matter, did it? She was running out of time to tell Bull the truth. Running out of chances to make amends before her heart failed.

When Foster spoke, it was as though he’d been reading her mind. “I called Bull at his office in Paris and mentioned this little visit of yours to The Seasons. I wondered if he might have some idea why you decided to come here, considering the fact you haven’t been to The Seasons once since your separation.”

“Oh?” Bella said warily. “What did he say?”

“He was ready to get on a plane and come here himself. I didn’t think that was a good idea, considering everything.”

Of course you didn’t.

He arched a brow and said, “I told him that if you’d wanted him here, you would have invited him.”

And you heard me tell Bull when we ended up brangling at the Heart Association Ball in February, that I would rather die than lay eyes on him again.

“You know Bull,” Foster continued. “He does what he wants. If he comes, he’ll be on the jet from Paris with my girls. He thought it would be a good chance to see all the kids.”

Bella heard the rest of Foster’s thought without it being spoken: He’s not coming here to see you. Bull Benedict wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire. It wasn’t exaggerating to say that she and Bull had fought their own Revolutionary War during the ten years they’d been separated.

“The condition his European banks are in with this crazy global economy, I doubt he can get away.” Foster set down his coffee cup. “I’d better get going, or I’ll be late.”

Bella exhaled audibly when Foster left the room. She glanced at Emily, who was eyeing her worriedly, and shook her head to indicate she was fine. The young woman was acting like a mother hen with one chick. Bella didn’t bother repeating that she was fine. She simply rose and headed for the stairs. Climbing that enormous staircase was great exercise. And she needed time alone in her room to think.