Cooper pushed away from the door. He flashed a toothy, humorless grin. “Which is your way, I suppose, of saying I have none.”
“Hey, that’s not what I was saying. But the fact that you heard that is a bit of a Rorschach test of your insecurities, doncha think?”
Cooper had the long and lean build of an Olympic snowboarder, which is precisely what he had been before he started his own company designing and manufacturing snowboards. He was the kind of athlete who was as good in front of the camera as he was on his board. All in all, Cooper was an expert at playing the game, whatever the game was.
Which was one of the reasons why Griffin couldn’t get a read on Cooper’s mood, not until Cooper was close enough to give Griffin a friendly slap on the arm and say, “So how’ve you been?”
“Fine.” Griffin resisted the urge to rub at the spot on his arm. “So what’re you doing here?”
“I just came by to have lunch with the old man.”
“He’s asleep,” Griffin observed.
“He was tired after eating.”
Griffin held up a hand palm out. “Hey, I’m not criticizing, I’m just surprised. I would have thought you’d be headed back to Colorado by now. It’s been, what, a couple of weeks since Dad’s big announcement?”
“I was busy doing…” Cooper’s voice trailed off as he apparently fished around for the right word. “Stuff.”
“Business stuff?” he asked, even though it was none of his concern. If Cooper could give him a hard time, then he damn well better be willing to take it, too. Besides, if Cooper was also searching for the missing heiress, Griffin wanted to know about it.
“No,” Cooper said simply. Then his mouth spread into a wide grin.
“Any chance you’re still in town because you’re looking for the heiress yourself?”
Cooper’s smile broadened without necessarily softening any. “Do you really think I’d tell you if I was?”
No, he didn’t. They’d never been close, so why would Cooper share information, even if he had it?
“Are you leaving soon, though?” Griffin asked as Cooper headed for the front door.
“My flight leaves tomorrow morning.” Cooper pulled his hand out of his pocket, extracting his keys. He sent a last look back through the door to the kitchen, which he’d just walked through a few minutes ago. “But I’m considering changing my plans. Extending my stay a little longer.”
Cooper had almost made it out the front door when Griffin said, “Hey, if you’re going to be in town, we should get together.” Cooper turned to stare at him, his mouth slightly agape, his surprise so obvious, Griffin felt obliged to add, “You know, hang out or whatever.”
That cynical smile flirted across Cooper’s lips again. “And not talk about the heiress at all.”
Griffin laughed. “Yeah. I can see why the offer looks suspicious. But I mean it. You’re not in town that much. Dalton and I don’t see you often enough.”
“Oh, but you and Dalton hang out all the time?”
“I wouldn’t say all the time. But after the divorce he moved into my building, so, yeah, I see him. Not that he’ll be around much this week.”
“Right. ’Cause of Laney.”
Because Cooper had lived in their house for a couple of years after his mother had died, he knew Laney, too, and, as far as Griffin could tell, they’d even been close back in high school.
Cooper had looped his key ring on one of his fingers and he gave the ring a jostle so the keys flipped around his hand and he caught them again. Griffin smiled because he did that same thing with his keys.
“What do you say? There’s a great sushi place not far from the office.”
Cooper shrugged, though he still looked surprised. “Sure. We should do that.”
But, in truth, the invitation had surprised Griffin, too. He’d never before had the impulse to bond with Cooper. Neither he nor Dalton had ever been particularly close to Cooper. Yeah, they’d lived in the same house for Cooper’s last two years of high school and during summers before that. They’d wrestled and fought. They’d played touch football more roughly than they probably should have. But had they ever really talked? About anything?
For the first time in his life, that bugged Griffin.
It occurred to him now that once Hollister died, Cooper might never again come down to Texas. Unless there was some major shift in his relationship with his brother, once Hollister was gone, he might never see him again.
Suddenly, he thought of Sydney and all that he’d learned that morning from that damn file. Of the foster mother she still kept in touch with. Of the other kids who’d grown up with her in that foster home with whom she still kept in touch.
It wasn’t the kind of thing Sydney talked about. Hell, he shouldn’t even know about it, but he did. And he couldn’t shake the impression that if Sydney knew just how lazy he was in his relationship with Cooper, she’d be disappointed. Why that mattered, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that if Sydney had a half sibling, she’d damn well have done more than have her assistant send a card at the holidays.
He didn’t stop to ask himself why it mattered what Sydney would do. Instead, he followed the faint sound of clattering dishes into the kitchen, where he assumed he would find his mother. Yes, it was rare for her to cook and even odder for her to clean, but he figured that must be where she was because the house was otherwise quiet.
However, instead of his mother, he found Portia at the sink, quietly loading glasses into the dishwasher. Portia had been married to Dalton for nearly a decade before their divorce a year ago. Though Dalton never complained that Portia still flitted about the edges of their family, Griffin found it bizarre as hell.
She looked up when he walked in and gave a jump as if he’d startled her out of deep thought. “Oh, it’s you.”
He stopped on the far side of the kitchen, not wanting to get too close to Princess Portia. “I was looking for my mother.”
Daintily drying her hands on a dishtowel, Portia sighed, making it clear that speaking to him was a burden. “She’s having lunch at the country club.”
He glanced at his watch. “Perfect. I’ll check there.”
“You should call first and have her add you to the guest list,” Portia said in her most helpful voice. “Otherwise they might not let you in.”
Like all good Southern women, Portia’s helpful voice was designed to eviscerate unsuspecting victims.
“Just out of curiosity, why are you here at all?” he asked. “I mean, you do know that you’re not actually part of this family anymore, right?”
Her hands clenched on the towel before she tossed it aside. “I’m here because your parents are going through an extremely difficult time and none of you boys has the common sense to check in on them.”
Ignoring the sting of truth that accompanied that barb, he said, “I’m here now.”
“And I’m guessing you came to harass your mother about what she knows about Hollister’s illegitimate daughter.”
“I—”
“She knows nothing. And I can’t begin to tell you how distressed she is by this mess that whore stirred up.”
The vehemence in Portia’s voice nearly rocked him back a step. “Wow, that’s an awfully harsh word, Portia. Did it tarnish that silver spoon on the way out of your mouth?”
She ignored his jab and strode forward to the massive island that divided the kitchen and separated them by a good eight feet. She planted her palms down on the granite and leveled a stare at him.
“You may not give a damn about this family, but I still do, even if Dalton and I are not together.”
“Yeah, can we circle back around to that? Because I’m still not sure I understand what you’re doing here now when you and Dalton are divorced.”
“I’m here because Caro asked me to come.”
“I had no idea you two were so close.” There was a sneer in his voice and he didn’t bother to hide it. It irked him a little, that she and his mother were close. Nothing he’d ever done had been good enough for his mother. But she’d welcomed Portia like a long-lost daughter.
Portia must have heard the bitterness in his voice because she shrugged without really meeting his gaze. “Your mother and I have a lot in common. We were both pressured into marriages with powerful men who didn’t give a damn about us. I think she admires me for having the courage to walk away. Besides, she was like a mother to me for ten years.”
For the briefest moment, he wondered if it really was cowardice rather than greed that had kept his mother by Hollister’s side all those years. Then he decided it didn’t matter. She could have left. At any point in her thirty-plus years with Hollister she could have walked away. She could have done what was best for her kids and left an emotionally abusive man. Instead, she’d stayed. Maybe it was callous of him, but he resented her for it.
He snorted his derision. “Right. You came running to be with her because she was like a mother to you for a decade, but that’s about ten years longer than she was ever like a mother to me.”
Portia’s expression softened and she blew out a sigh. “Look, I know she wasn’t a perfect mother to you or to Dalton, but try to see this from her point of view. She never asked for this. She’s the victim here as much as you, Dalton and Cooper are.”
“I’m sure she’s hoping either Dalton or I will win the company and throw her a bone or two.”
Portia gave him an assessing look. “And will you? If you find your sister, will you give your mother some of Hollister’s fortune?”
He answered without even having to think about it. “Yeah. I will. But don’t tell her that.”
“Her husband is dying,” Portia said. “You could show a little sympathy.”
“More to the point, her dying husband is cutting her off. If she’s crying, I think I can guess why.”