Covet (Fallen Angels 1)

His father had been the same, always particular about how his clothes and his things were.

Her son also had Mark's dark hair and dark eyes.

God...she wished there were no part of that man in him, but biology was biology. And the stuff she really worried about, her ex's temper and meanness, had never been apparent.

"There, you're good to go." As he turned around to inspect, she fought the urge to hug him hard. "Look okay?"

"It's much gooderer than I did." She glanced over at him. "Sorry, berrer than I did."

"Thank you."

Staring at his reflection, she thought about the cost of new blazers...and shoes...and winter coats and summer shorts and tried not to panic. She could always waitress, after all. It wouldn't bring in nearly as much as she had been making...but it would be enough. It would have to be enough.

Especially when she moved them to a smaller city where rents were less.

God...she didn't want to leave Caldwell, though - she truly didn't. Not after last night with Vin.

"We're going to be late, come on," she said.

Downstairs, they coated and gloved up together and then got in the Camry. The morning was chilly, which meant the garage was an icebox, and the engine wheezed and sputtered.

"We need a new car," Robbie said as she cranked the key again. "I know."

She hit the garage door and waited as it revealed the drive and the world beyond. Backing out, she K-turned, punched the remote again, and took off for St. Patrick's.

By the time they got to the cathedral, there were cars parked all along the street, stretching for blocks. She drove around, checking out the illegal options, and settled on a corner slot that put the butt of her car in the breeze. Getting out, she walked around and measured how far her bumper was over the yellow-curbed no-parking zone.

'Bout two feet. "Damn it."

As the cathedral's bells started to ring, she decided she was going to hope that if a policeman drove by he or she was either a good Christian or color-blind.

"Let's go," she said, holding out her hand to Robbie, who'd come over. As his palm slid into hers, she started walking fast and he clipped right along next to her, his little loafers having to go twice as fast over the bare sidewalk.

"I think we're late, Mom," he said breathlessly. "And it's my fault. I just wanted my tie to be right."

She glanced down at him. As they rushed along, the top of his hair flopped to the same beat as his navy blue pea-coat did, but his eyes were unmoving: They were locked on the pavement and he was blinking too fast.

Marie-Terese stopped, tugged him to a halt, and sank down on her haunches. Putting her hands on both his arms, she gave him a little shake. "There's nothing wrong with being late. People are late all the time. We do our best to be on time for everything and that's all we can do, okay? Okay? Robbie?"

The cathedral's bells went silent. And a moment later a car eased by them. Then off in the distance a dog barked.

This had nothing to do with being late, she realized.

"Talk to me," she whispered, putting her face in the line of his vision, even though she practicaly had to lie down to do it. "Please, Robbie."

His words exploded out of his mouth: "I liked my own name better. And I don't want to move again. I like my babysitters and my room. I like the Y. I like...here and now."

Marie-Terese sat back on her heels...and wanted to kill her ex-husband. "I'm really sorry. I know this has been so hard on you."

"We're leaving, aren't we. You came home early last night and I heard you talking to Quinesha. You told her you might have to make other arrangements." The word arrangements came out mermangements. "I like Quinesha. I don't want other arrangements."

Again with the mermangements.

Looking at her son, she wondered just exactly how she could tell him that they had to move because she had the unshakable conviction that "the bad times," as he'd called them, were definitely back.

The car that had passed them before came around again, having evidently failed to find a place to park.

"I quit my job last night," she said, getting as close to the truth as she could. "I stopped waitressing where I had been because I wasn't happy there. So I'm going to need to get another job somewhere."

Robbie's eyes lifted to hers and he measured her face. "There are a lot of restaurants in Caldwell."

"True, but they might not need help right now and I have to make us money to live off of."

"Oh." He seemed to be thinking the whole thing over. "Okay. That's different."

Abruptly, he relaxed, as if what had been bothering him were a helium balloon that he'd just released into the wind.

"I love you," she said, hating that precisely what he'd been worried about was in fact happening. They were leaving for reasons other than her "job." But she didn't want him having to carry that burden.

"Me, too, Mom." He gave her a quick hug, his little arms not reaching even halfway around her. Still, she felt the embrace through her whole body. "You ready?" she said roughly. "Yup."

They fell back into hustle mode, jangling their way over to the cathedral and up its broad stone steps; then sneaking in through its massive door. Inside the vestibule, they removed their coats and she took a program from the greeter who was positioned in the narthex. At the man's urging, she and Robbie headed for one of the side doors and ghosted down to a pew that was fairly empty.

Just as they sat, the call for children to come forward for Sunday school went out. Robbie stayed right with her, though. He never went off with the other kids - had never asked to and she'd certainly never suggested it.

As the priests and the choir got the service rolling, she took a deep breath and let the balmy warmth of the church seep into her. And for a split second, she imagined what it would be like to have Vin sitting with her and Robbie, maybe on the far side of her son. It would be nice to look over Robbie's head and see a man she loved. Maybe they would share a secret smile as couples did from time to time. Maybe Vin would have been the one to help with Robbie's tie.

Maybe there would be a daughter between the bookends.

With a frown, Marie-Terese realized that for the first time in nearly forever, she was daydreaming. Actually fantasizing about a pleasant, happy future. God...how long it had been? In the beginning with Mark...that was how long.

She'd met him at the Mandalay Bay casino. She and her girlfriends, who'd all turned twenty-one the same year, had flown to Las Vegas for their first girls' weekend out of town, and she could remember how ready they'd all been for their taste of truly grown-up freedom.

As she and her friends had futzed around with one-dollar bets on the cheap side of the velvet rope, Mark had been at a high rollers' table in the VIP section. After he'd caught sight of her, he'd sent a waitress to invite them into the deluxe section - where the drinks were free and the lowest you could wager was twenty dollars.

At first, she'd assumed it was all about Sarah. Sarah had been, and no doubt still was, a six-foot-tall blonde who somehow came across as naked even while fully clothed. That girl had been a man magnet, and given how many candidates she had to choose from, she'd had very high standards. And what do you know, someone who could afford high stakes was definitely up her alley.

But no, Mark had had eyes only for Marie-Terese. And he'd made that clear when she had been seated at his elbow and Sarah had been left to fend for herself.

Mark and his two associates, as he had referred to the pair of suits who were with him, had been nothing but gentlemen that night, buying drinks, talking, being attentive. There had been a lot of kissing dice and shiny chatter, the kind of thing that made you, when you were young enough to believe in glamour, feel like a celebrity.

It had been the perfect start to the weekend: To be twenty-one and in the exclusive part of the casino, surrounded by men in expensive suits, was everything that she and her friends had hoped for, and after three or four hours, they'd gone up to the suite Mark owned. Not the brightest move, maybe, but there had been four girls and three men, and after they'd all spent time together on a collective winning streak, the illusion of friendship and trust had been created.

But nothing bad had happened. Just more drinks and chatter and flirtation. And Sarah ending up in a bedroom alone with the taller of the two "associates."

At the end of the night, Marie-Terese had gone out onto the balcony with Mark.