Page 2 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
Roman picked up his pace but remained silent. Chase could almost see his brother’s brain churning to come up with a reply. A few months ago, Chase had rushed his mother to the emergency room with chest pains. Later, she’d told her sons she’d been diagnosed with a serious heart condition. Though they’d spoken to the doctor, confidentiality had prevented them from finding out anything more than what Raina had told them. Her three sons had danced around her bedside, making sure she took care of herself. Since she’d curtailed all activity, Chase hadn’t thought to question the diagnosis further, until he began to notice inconsistencies in his mother’s behavior. Too much color in her cheeks for someone with a weak heart. Too much swigging of antacids. The more recent prescription drug to treat gastric reflux, which if left untreated could have severe consequences. And running up and down the stairs when she thought she wouldn’t be caught.
As a newspaperman with damn good instincts, he began to suspect blatant manipulation. He also suspected his brothers, who seemed less concerned with their mother’s health lately, knew something he didn’t.
“Rick and I need to talk to you,” Roman said.
“About Mom’s fake heart condition?”
Roman stopped in his tracks, causing one woman to nearly bump into him and a man to dart around him, cursing as he passed. “You know?”
Chase nodded. “I do now.”
“Shit.” Roman met his gaze. “We were going to tell you.”
Chase ran a hand through his hair and groaned. He didn’t give a damn that they were in the middle of the airport blocking pedestrian traffic. He’d been itching to confront Roman on this and was damn glad to have it off his chest. “Any reason I was left out?”
“I discovered the truth just before Charlotte and I got together for good. Rick figured things out more recently. If he could’ve come to D.C., we’d have told you this weekend.” He held his hands out in front of him. “What can I say?”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. Mom does.”
Roman raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know why she faked being sick?”
“Explanation’s the wrong word. I know she did it because she wanted grandkids. She wanted us to feel so bad we’d do her bidding. I get that. But she damn well owes us all an apology.”
“If it makes you feel any better, her antics have seriously curtailed her social life. She and Eric haven’t been able to go dancing, date, do any of the things she’d like to do.”
“Small consolation.” Chase rolled his shoulders to release the tension. “What do you say we forget about the family problems this weekend and just have fun?”
“Sounds good to me. We’ll get you settled at the hotel, have dinner with Charlotte, and tomorrow you’ll get your first taste of D.C. politics. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“No argument from me.”
Roman started for the elevators leading to the parking garage and Chase joined him. “I’m not surprised Senator Carlisle’s going to run for vice president,” Chase said of the story that brought him to town.
Roman nodded. “Me neither. The man’s political perfection, even on a second marriage.”
Fortunately for Chase, Jacqueline Carlisle, the senator’s deceased wife, was born and raised in Yorkshire Falls, giving Chase the link to his hometown that led him to D.C. “With the current V.P. too old and unwilling to run again, our president needs a newer model. Someone with shine and polish.”
“U.S. senator Michael Carlisle from New York,” Roman said.
“Yep. I did research on the man. After Jacqueline, the first wife, died, Carlisle married her college roommate and best friend. Madeline Carlisle raised the senator’s first daughter, Sloane, then later Madeline and the senator had twins, Eden and Dawne.” Political perfection, as Roman had said.
“Ever see photos of the senator’s oldest daughter?”
Chase shook his head. “Just a glimpse of the twins or a grainy background shot. Why?”
Roman laughed. “I just think you’ll like what you see. Elevator’s this way.” He pointed left.
“From a professional standpoint, I like everything about the Carlisles.” Because barring scandal or stupidity, the high-profile, good-looking senator was on his way to the presidency. And Chase intended to use his local connection to make one hell of a journalistic splash.
Roman laughed. “You do realize that when I asked about Carlisle’s daughter, I wasn’t talking about work?” He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You’re always on top of things, always the professional.” He sobered. “You know, I learned from you.”
The pride in his voice made Chase feel like a fraud. Roman had accomplished more in his lifetime than Chase ever had.
“And you’re right,” Roman said, oblivious to Chase’s inner thoughts. “This story gives you the perfect opportunity to break out of small-town coverage. With the right angle, you could get picked up by one of the bigger media outlets.”
