He went straight for my heart. "Tristan rarely takes the time to introduce me to the young ladies he sees. I take it there's something serious going on?"
How was I supposed to answer that? I was tempted to tell him that I was the only serious one but thought better of it. "Your son has been very good to me. And to my family."
Mr. King smirked. "I'm sure my son can afford to be as generous as it pleases him to be."
I didn't like the implication. "I care very much about Tristan, Mr. King. He's a fine man."
"He's a fine catch. Especially for . . . someone like you."
"Someone like me?" I was dressed to the nines, decked with jewels and hadn't mentioned a word about my family's circumstances. Bennington was a respectable school and I was well spoken enough. So what gave me away?
"Oh, please. You needn't be defensive. I simply meant that Tristan could have any one of dozens of stars or heiresses or even royalty. You seem rather straight forward and down to earth." He took a sip of his wine and continued, "Then again, I hardly know my son. What I know is what I read in the papers. Only not the papers these days. You know what I mean."
"I've seen the pictures, too, Mr. King. I don't imagine myself to be as glamorous as the ladies on his arm on the internet."
"Plastic, all of them. I meet plenty of that variety myself." He fixed me with his dark enigmatic stare. "You know about the girl?"
"You mean Elsa?"
"I had hoped that she would . . . that she could be the one who healed him. I never met her."
That surprised me. I felt a selfish sense of satisfaction that I was the one who he'd brought to meet his father. "Tristan has a lot of hurt in him." Then I said something that I thought I might regret. It just came out. "You could be part of healing him, too, Mr. King."
The mask just crumbled in front of my eyes. I saw it as clearly as if he had reached up and peeled off a false face. "I would love to be part of that." To my utter surprise, he reached over and took my hand. "I'm getting old enough to have regrets. And one of my biggest regrets is my only son. Success is a cold companion, Raina. I don't want Tristan to wind up like me."
"Why don't you talk to him?"
"What can I say? 'I'm sorry I ruined your childhood'? 'Forgive me for not having the strength to bear the tragedy'? 'Let me make up for abandoning a poor child whose heart was breaking?' I can't go back and fix what I broke."
"No, you can't go back. But you can go forward." I wanted to gather the man in my arms and tell him it would be all right. I squeezed his hand. "Right now, you've got a son who speaks to you like you're a distant acquaintance. What have you got to lose by trying to break the pattern? People can change, Mr. King."
He put his other hand over mine and gave me a smile that was as kind as his former one had been cold. "You remind me of my late wife. Her optimism was like a lighthouse to everyone who knew her. I wasn't the easiest man to live with. But I loved her. I still do."
"That's a wonderful thing to say."
The look on Tristan's face when he found me sitting with my hand in his father's hands was priceless. For a man in perpetual control of his emotions, the shock on his face was almost comical. I had to stifle a laugh but couldn't help but give him a slightly self-satisfied grin. It couldn't have been more obvious that I had the salty old dog eating out of my hand.
He was visibly trying to gather his wits as he settled into his chair. Mr. King and I dropped our hands and both of us looked at Tristan. He cleared his throat. "I guess you two found something to talk about."
"We were talking about you," I said. It was a bold admission and I meant for it to shake Tristan's composure. The whole idea of keeping a distance from your own parent appalled me from the first time I learned of it. It was unnatural and painful.
Tristan shifted uncomfortably. "I see. Well."
"Raina has a way of cutting to the chase. She may be young, but she has the courage to speak her mind."
"Father, truer words were never spoken. Sometimes she says things that are better left unsaid." Tristan shot me a look that was a mixture of contempt and--could it be?--fear.
"Don't blame her. She only brought out something I've been keeping in for too long."
Tristan cocked an eyebrow at his father and waited for him to continue.
"Okay. Here it is. I'm tired of the distance between us, son. I read every word I can about you and your life and it's precious little. I can't turn back the clock, but as Raina pointed out to me, I can move forward. I want to get to know you. I want . . . to be a father to you. If it's too late, I'll accept that, but I don't want to die without having tried to make it right with you."
Tristan looked at his hands and his jaw clenched. "Are you sick? Is there something you're not telling me?"
Bradley King threw back his head and laughed. "Do you imagine that only my imminent death would bring this on?"
Tristan folded his arms across his chest and just looked at his father.
"No, I am not dying."
The arms dropped.
"I'm finally old enough to know what's important. And you, son, are important to me."
There was an eternity of silence. "You're important to me, too, Dad." It was almost a whisper but we both heard it. I felt like I was going to cry with pure happiness.
"Then we'll build on that." Mr. King flagged a waiter down and ordered a bottle of champagne. "To toast new beginnings."
For the first time since we sat down, I saw Tristan's face relax. The tension left his jaw and he smiled with something closer to genuine contentment than I had seen outside of the bedroom.
"As long as we're celebrating, there's some good news I'd like to share. Father, I'll tell you the whole story in just a minute, but first let me tell Raina something." He turned to me and took my hand. It seemed a day for hand holding. "They caught your mother's kidnappers."
I saw Mr. King's eyebrows shoot up but he let Tristan continue on uninterrupted.
"Archie's hunches usually turn out to be true. He thought they'd be right in your neighborhood and he and his men made contact with an amazing number of shopkeepers. Everyone knows Marjorie and Don and you'd be amazed at the cooperation they gave him. It was all a matter of tracking the serial numbers. Once the bills started showing up, Archie was able to zero in on a couple of places and drill down to who was passing the bills."
"Was it someone we know, like you thought?"