Billionaire Triplets Matchmakers Read online

  Annabelle’s ire had left with the slap. She was breathing hard, “I- I’m sorry Joanie, baby. I’m sorry I haven’t been a good mother.”

  She turned and ran to the other side of the suite, and into the bathroom. The door closed.

  Joan stood there, a myriad of emotions racing through her. Had she gone too far, accusing her mother of trying to ruin Lissa’s wedding and destroy her life? Was she taking out her frustrations regarding Antonio and her subsequent poor behavior by blaming it all on her mother? What kind of monster had she become?

  She went to the door. Inside, her mother’s soft sobs were audible. The knot in Joan’s stomach tightened.

  “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it...” she said through the door.

  There was a gasp inside, then a sound as if her mother was grabbing up tissue to wipe her tears. Then water ran.

  “Just give me a moment, darling,” her mother said.

  Joan decided to do just that.

  She went back to the sitting room and poured herself a glass of water.

  Her stomach growled. Where was this alleged food her mother had ordered for her?

  She thought about using the room phone to call down to the kitchen and check on the order, and maybe add some french fries, when her mother came out of her bathroom. She could hear her shuffle around in her bedroom.

  A few minutes later her mother returned to the sitting room and gracefully sat in the stuffed chair. Her shoulders were back, chin up slightly, face composed. Annabelle Edwards had regained her composure. But, even still, Joan noticed, she avoided looking at her youngest daughter and for the longest time they sat there in silence, neither knowing what to say.

  Joan didn’t want to belabor her apology, so she said, “Well, I guess I should be getting back to the triplets. I usually start my shift at eight. Lissa is probably pissed enough at me as it is.”

  “You’re not going back there today.”

  “What?”

  “I was over there this morning— “

  “When?”

  “Uh, while you were sleeping it off, darling...”

  “Oh,” Joan said.

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but your sister was rather upset—“

  Joan’s fingers clutched the edge of her seat. “Lissa knows what I did? Oh, God, mother, did you have to tell her? Why?”

  “I didn’t, dearie, she was the one that got the call from the police – she told me. And don’t you remember, Julio was there helping me straighten out things with the constabulary?”

  “I don’t remember much about last night,” Joan said, her headache returning. She rubbed a hand over the tight skin on her forehead. “Oh, mommy, what am I going to do? She’s the one that put me in rehab the last time, I’d promised her I wouldn’t let her down. She’ll never forgive me. She’ll never let me near her boys again.”

  “Now, now, Joan, stop that. Your sister is a little concerned, understandably, but she’s already said you can watch the boys while she’s on her honeymoon.”

  Joan looked up hopefully. “Really?”

  “Yes, but there are terms.”

  “Terms?”

  “Yes, dear. You can watch the boys, provided I’m there to watch them with you.”

  “You?” Joan snorted. “She wants you to be the co-nanny?”

  “Don’t act so surprised.” Annabelle said, indignantly. “Why is it that everyone thinks I can’t handle a couple of babies?”

  Joan tried to grasp the new development. She felt grateful that Lissa hadn’t fired her already, hadn’t had her things sent over to her mother’s hotel, and hadn’t included a one-way ticket back to New York.

  She’d messed up by getting drunk – did she just expect her sister to trust her with her babies without some terms?

  “But, I thought you were in the middle of filming that documentary. How can you do that and watch the boys? Or, I guess, supervise me watching the boys?”

  “I’m sure we can work around my events and still look after the boys. Darling. You need to stop worrying. Mommy’s back, I’ll help you get through this.”

  “Well, then I guess I should be thanking you, mom,” Joan said.

  “There was another condition,” Annabelle said.

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?” Joan said as she defiantly wiped at an unwanted tear. She should have given her notice two months ago, when the idea had first occurred to her. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with this humiliation, and she’d never have run into Antonio. Her mother was speaking, so she focused in on the words.

  “...every day while they’re gone, and I watch the boys with you.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You have to agree to go to an AA meeting every day and of course, to not drink. That’s the only other condition.”

  Joan nodded. She could handle that. In fact, she wanted that.

  Her mother came over and awkwardly draped one of her fat-free arms around her. “Are you going to be all right, dear?” she asked.

  Joan’s heart squeezed, but at the same time, her body stiffened. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this. First, her dead mother wasn’t dead, and now her cold, manipulative narcissistic mother, was being, well, loving. It was hard to process. Joan wasn’t sure she could trust what was happening. Maybe it was all part of another con. She wouldn’t put it past Annabelle, but at the same time, she wanted to lean on her mother for support. She’d screwed up, again, and she’d need all the support she could get.

  “There is one other tiny detail, I haven’t told you,” Annabelle began.

  “What?” Joan asked, eyeing her mother warily, wondering, if perhaps this wasn’t the whole reason for her mother’s unlikely kindness. Perhaps, this is where her mother would insist that she sign a release so they could add footage of her screaming at her mother on camera to her portfolio of insane media shots.

  “Lissa insisted on cutting the honeymoon from two weeks to one,” she said.

  “Oh,” Joan said as her heart sank. Lissa message, loud and clear.

  You screwed up, little sister, and I can’t trust you with my boys anymore.

  Joan felt a strong urge to call her sister and explain everything, but she couldn’t remember, much after leaving Antonio’s hotel.

  “Mom, what exactly happened last night? I mean, how much does Lissa know?”

  “You don’t remember? Tell me what you do recall, and I’ll try to help you fill in the blanks.”

  Joan thought back. “You mean before waking up in your hotel room?”

  “Yes. Do you remember what you did at the Grand Hotel, or getting arrested, or me bailing you out of jail?”

  Joan didn’t remember much. She remembered sneaking into the bar and starting a binge drinking session of gin and tonics while in the dark, on the floor. But, after that everything was a blur. She had no memory at all of being arrested. “I remember throwing up on your dress,” she said at last.

  Her mother’s face took on a pained expression as she also recalled that unfortunate incident, but then she let the memory go, and went back to speaking to her youngest daughter. “I remember that as well. That was right after Julio and I convinced the Police chief to let you go on your own recognizance.”

  “So, I have to appear in court?”

  “No, I had a chat with the Police chief, and the two of us are going out today. I’m hoping I can convince him to drop all charges since it’s your first offense – in Spain.”

  Picturing her mother going out with a policeman just to get her out of trouble, made her feel both terribly guilty, but also very much loved. That her mother would do that for her... This wasn’t the selfish woman she’d believed her mother to be for so long.

  “I’m sorry that I drank. You don’t have to do this, I’ll face the consequences. You shouldn’t have to date some horrible policeman just to protect me.”

  “I’m rather attracted to the man, so, please don’t worry about that.”

  “Are you sure?” Joan asked, looki
ng at her mother with fresh, tear stained eyes.

  “I’m absolutely sure. He’s quite a hunk and, from what I understand, quite wealthy for a man with a badge.”

  “Oh, mom, it’s good to know some things about you haven’t changed.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” Annabelle said, but she was smiling.

  “So, after you bailed me out, then what happened?”

  “Julio and I brought you back to my hotel, we put you to bed, you woke a few hours later and we had a brief chat. Then you went back to sleep. As far as I can tell, you slept while I went over to the Torres household, where I’d been summoned to help calm down Lissa after she attacked Antonio.”

  “What? Lissa attacked Antonio? Where? When?”

  “This morning he showed up on their doorstep, not long after Julio was sent to fetch me so we could go to the police station.”

  Mixed emotions raced through Joan’s body and her pulse quickened. Had Antonio gone to the Torres house looking for her? That was a good sign, right? He was worried about her. Maybe, he did care. But, then why had he taken off?

  But she was also thinking of Lissa. The anxiety of finding out that her sister was in jail, learning that she’d gotten drunk. Fresh waves of shame and remorse rushed through Joan.

  Everyone knew what she’d done. Her brother-in-law, her mother, her sister, and certainly Mamacita and Aunt Sophia all knew. She’d never be able to show her face at the Torres household again.

  “Oh, mother. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t even know why I did it. Lissa will never forgive me.”

  Her mother became serious. “Joan, I don’t know why you did it either but I want you to look at me and tell me the truth. Did that man, this Antonio person, harm you in any way? Is that why you went off the wagon?”

  Joan automatically shook her head - she didn’t want Antonio blamed for her mistake. Even as she tried to absolve her lover in front of her mother her thoughts flashed back to her night with Antonio. He’d been such a great comfort for her after the shock of discovering that her dead mother was, in fact, alive. And they’d fallen right back into their old ways – their passions rising more intensely than ever before. Her mind flashed on how he’d taken her, possessed her, owned her. She recalled laying on the bed with him, their bodies entwined. How could she say that he’d hurt her?

  She continued to shake her head, but then she remembered what had happened. She’d been woken from a sound sleep and sent naked into the bathroom because Antonio’s strange friend had shown up in the middle of the night.

  He’d said he would talk to his friend downstairs in the lobby, then come right back – but instead, he’d driven away with his friend. He’d disappeared. He’d abandoned her.

  Even now, the pain of that realization hit her hard. Her head stopped shaking no, and began to nod yes.

  “What did he do to you? That bastard, he’ll pay.”

  Joan felt an immediate urge to defend him. All he’d done was leave her in a hotel, he hadn’t hit her, or something. She needed to cut him some slack.

  But, had he driven her back to the bottle. That would be enough to consider his behavior harmful, wouldn’t it?

  No. She shook her head in the negative again. How could she blame him for that?

  Antonio had nothing to do her reason for picking up a drink. That had been her decision entirely.

  The more, she thought about it, the more, Joan realized that she’d been fixing to drink all along. Her disease had pounced on the combined shocks of discovering that her mother was still alive along with having a boyfriend take off on her as the impetus to her picking up a drink again, but she’d been wanting to do that all along.

  Her anxiety, her feelings of inadequacy – of being ‘nothing more than a nanny’ - her loneliness, these were the real causes. Was what happened with Antonio had simply pushed her where she was already planning to go.

  “No, it wasn’t him,” she said at last.

  “Joan, are you sure? If he did something, anything, you need to tell Julio.”

  Joan stared at her mother. Her mother adored men, but she was ultimately a feminist. For her to want to put things on Julio’s shoulders surprised her.

  “Why would we tell Julio?” she asked.

  “Because, Antonio is his God-Son, or God-Nephew, or God-Something. I can’t keep this Catholic stuff straight.”

  Joan stared at her mother, eyes wide. “I had no idea that they even knew each other. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see him again.”

  “So, he did hurt you.” Her mother said. A statement, not a question.

  “No, not physically. He just...” Joan suddenly remembered the missing money, and more shame and guilt passed through her. Lissa was never going to trust her again.

  Or maybe she’d imagined it. Maybe she’d dreamed about the money being stolen from her purse. She should double check.

  She looked around the room. “Where’s my purse?”

  Her mother pointed to a stuffed chair in the corner. Joan walked over to the chair and picked up her purse, looking inside. She found the wallet, and checked it again, then dumped the rest of the purse contents onto the bed.

  “What are you looking for dear?”

  Joan contemplated telling her the truth. A part of her wanted her mother to know, but another part of her wanted to protect Antonio. It hadn’t occurred to her the previous night at the hotel that Antonio might not have left of his own accord, but maybe it wasn’t his fault... or maybe there was a good reason for his untimely departure.

  “Joanie?”

  Just as she was about to fess up, since she couldn’t come up with another reason for dumping her purse, Joan noticed the envelope from the Grand Hotel.

  She held it up, remembering in a flash, what the desk clerk had said. “The big man told me to give you a note, should I tell you what it says?”

  She’d told him no, and had stashed the note, but now she was curious. What excuse had Antonio come up with for bolting on her in the middle of the night?

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing,” Joan said, and stashed it along with everything else back into her purse. Her mother seemed to be on the verge of pressing her question, but then they heard a knock on the door.

  “The food is here,” Joan said, taking her purse with her as she answered the door.

  As she ate her breakfast, her mother’s culinary recommendations for a first meal after a rough night, Joan’s was glad that the question about the envelope never came up again.

  Instead, she’d excused herself into the adjoining suite and took a shower while Joan slowly and carefully consumed the cream of potato soup, soft butter lettuce salad with a light dressing and candied walnuts, and a cup of wild rice pilaf. A very un-breakfast like breakfast, but it hit the spot and didn’t come back up. She ate it all, and downed the entire pot of mint tea, and the two soda crackers that came with the soup.

  She was feeling much better when her mother appeared from her room, fully dressed, and ready to go. She had her purse in hand and her sunglasses perched on her forehead.

  “You going somewhere?” Joan asked.

  “I told you darling, I have a date with that handsome police captain. I’ve got to do my best to keep you out of the pokey.”

  Joan remembered. But, she looked at the clock, it wasn’t even ten am, yet. “So soon?”

  “Yes, it’s his day off, and he wants to give me a tour of his beloved city, then dinner. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Joan gave her mother a quizzical look. “What am I supposed to do for the rest of the day? Aren’t you supposed to keep an eye on me?”

  “Darling, I doubt you’ll do anything stupid. Plus, you won’t have time. Oh, that’s right,” she said, twittering a laugh. “I almost forgot to tell you. Darling, I’ve booked you for an all day at the spa, here in the hotel. Massage, nails, waxing, a facial, and God knows some serious chair time with a hairdresser. Darling your hair, you’ve let it go
.”

  “Thanks, mom, but I can’t pay for any of this. I’m tight on money at the moment...” Joan was still thinking about how much was in her personal account and if there was enough in it to cover the loss from Antonio’s friend. She got an idea – she could go back to Antonio, confront him and tell him what his friend had done. Maybe Antonio could get her money back before she had to see her sister tomorrow.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s all paid for.”

  “But, how do you even have money? Weren’t all your accounts frozen or something?”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I guess, no I wouldn’t have... since it’s all part of the dreadful non-disclosure. Let’s just say I’m currently doing fine in the money department. Please, just accept my gift of a few hours of beauty treatments. Would you do that for me, dear?”

  Joan decided that she could, and said as much.

  Before her mother left, she took Joan’s hands in her, looked in her eyes and said, “Can I ask you a question, darling?”

  “Sure, mom,” Joan said.

  “You aren’t planning on drinking again, are you, my dear? If you are, I’ll call the Captain and cancel.”

  Joan knew she should say an emphatic no, but she hadn’t considered the question. She considered it then.

  Didn’t she want to put the unfortunate relapse behind her? Start with a clean slate, right now?

  Or, was she willing to jeopardize her relationship with her sister, her access to the triplets, her future, just to have one last go at enjoying the pleasures of oblivion before returning, tail between her legs, for another go at sobriety? Sure, she might want to do that – but, it wouldn’t be right. Her sister was getting married. She’d done enough.

  “No, mom, I won’t drink. I promise.”

  She meant it, but, even as she said it she recalled the AA literature about how people, after making solemn oaths and promises about not drinking, found themselves pickled by lunch. She couldn’t do this on her own power. She needed the help of the group.

  “But, I could use a meeting. When did you say these spa treatments start?”

  “You’re supposed to go to the spa at three and I think they’ll have you out of there by eight tonight.”