The Last Chance Matinee: A Book Club Recommendation! (1) (The Hudson Sisters Series) - Softcover

Mariah Stewart is the award-winning New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of numerous novels and several novellas and short stories. A native of Hightstown, New Jersey, she lives with her husband and two rambunctious rescue dogs amid the rolling hills of Chester County, Pennsylvania, where she savors country life and tends her gardens while she works on her next novel. Visit her website at MariahStewart.com, like her on Facebook at Facebook.com/AuthorMariahStewart, and follow her on Instagram @Mariah_Stewart_Books.

The Last Chance Matinee CHAPTER ONE

Peter J. Wheeler sat at the shiny Honduran mahogany desk in his high-rise paneled law office in Center City Philadelphia rehearsing what he would say to the beneficiaries of his best friend’s will once they arrived. There’d be no easy or pleasant way to get through the next few hours, and if he hadn’t loved the deceased like a brother, he would’ve killed Fritz Hudson with his own two hands for putting him in this position. Over the years, Pete had been called upon to clean up a good number of messes on Fritz’s behalf, but this . . . this was . . .

Cowardly. There was no way around it. Fritz was an out-and-out coward. He’d gone ahead and died and left his old buddy Pete to do his dirty work. Not that Pete didn’t owe Fritz—he’d be the last person to deny that—but still. Weren’t there limits to repaying a debt?

“Mr. Wheeler, Ms. Monroe and Miss Hudson have arrived,” Marjorie, the firm’s receptionist, announced through the intercom.

Send them away. Far, far away . . .

“Send them in.”

Pete stood and adjusted his cuffs for something to do with his hands, mentally preparing for the reading of the will—and the breaking of the news.

The door opened and Fritz’s daughters, Allie and Des, walked in, smiling and offering hugs and kisses on the cheek. It wasn’t a secret that their father’s estate was quite substantial, and Pete had no doubt the two women were already mentally spending their shares.

“Allie, Des. Great to see you girls,” he said, before reminding himself of the somber reason for their presence. He cleared his throat and assumed a solemn expression. “Again, my condolences to you both.”

“And to you as well.” Des gave his hand a squeeze. “Since you were closer to Dad than either of us, I suppose you’ll miss him more than anyone else.”

“I’d give anything to have him here with us today.” So I could wring his neck the way I should have when he was alive. Or at the very least, if he were here today, he could do his own dirty work.

“I’m sure.” Allie looked around the office. “New décor? I like it.”

“Thanks. All that leather and those prints of English hunting dogs were starting to get to me.” He smiled to himself.

Six months ago, Fritz had stood in the middle of Pete’s office with his hands on his hips. “Don’t you think it’s time for all that tired old ‘tally ho!’ stuff to go, Pete? I’m pretty sure that style went out in the nineties.”

I should’ve tied him to a chair right then and there, dialed the phone, handed it to him, and not let him up until he’d come clean with his kids. All his kids.

“Allie, how’s Nikki doing? The new school working out for her?” Pete offered a chair to the tall, slender blonde, who seemed a bit on edge.

“She’s doing just fine, thank you.”

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m great.” The sarcasm in Allie’s voice was unmistakable. “Except that the TV show I was working on was canceled and I’m going to have to sell my house because I can’t afford the upkeep and my half of Nikki’s private school tuition. Other than that, I’m just swell.”

“I’m sorry things aren’t better for you right now. But you have a lot of directing credits, right?”

“Assistant directing,” she corrected.

“Still, you have a recognizable name. I’m sure someone will call.” He tried to be encouraging, but could see by her expression that she wasn’t buying it.

“Well, once Dad’s estate is settled, you’ll be able to turn things around.” Des, who was three years younger and four inches shorter than her sister, hadn’t waited for a chair to be offered before she sat. “That’s what this is all about, right, Uncle Pete?”

“Ahhh . . . well . . . yes, but . . .” he stammered. No rehearsal would have been adequate to prepare him for what was ahead this morning.

It was then that Allie pointed to the third chair in front of the desk.

She frowned. “Is someone joining us?”

Before Pete could respond, Marjorie tapped on the door, then opened it. “Mr. Wheeler . . .”

“Ah . . . yes.” He walked around the desk as a petite woman with curly light auburn hair entered the office. “Cara. Come in, please.” He embraced her as he had the others. “Have a seat.”

With puzzled expressions, Allie and Des turned to face the newcomer.

“Allie. Des. This is Cara McCann.” He took a deep breath and prepared for the shit storm that was about to occur. “Your half sister.” He turned to Cara. “Cara, meet Allegra Monroe and Desdemona Hudson. Your half sisters.”

The silence that followed could not have been more intense. The three women stared first at Pete, then at each other for what seemed to be an eternity.

Finally, Allie cleared her throat, and with a death stare aimed at Pete, said, “What the hell, Uncle Pete?”

“The hell is that your father lived a double life. On the West Coast, he had Nora and the two of you,” he said, addressing Allie and Des. Turning to Cara, he added, “And on the East Coast . . .”

“He had Susa and me,” Cara said quietly, her face white, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and her eyes on him. “Obviously, that’s the short version. Surely there’s more.”

“The long version isn’t much different. It’s just a matter of filling in the blanks.”

“Then I suggest you do that.” Des folded her arms across her chest, an I’m waiting expression on her face.

“This is why he didn’t want a service or a memorial of any kind,” Cara said. “He wanted a quick cremation so we wouldn’t meet at his graveside.”

“Sad but true. When he realized how close he was to the end, he added a codicil to his will that he’d be cremated immediately and that you would not be notified until after the cremation.”

“Start from the beginning,” Allie said, still glaring. “And maybe at some point you could toss in an explanation of why Dad kept this secret to himself.”

Pete sighed deeply. “If I told him once, I told him a thousand times that this was a stupid way to live. That he needed to come clean, to tell Nora that he was going to go through with the divorce. That he’d met someone who made him happy.” He glanced at Cara, his voice softening. “Your mother made your father very happy, Cara.”

“So you’re saying he didn’t love our mother and she made him miserable?” Allie snapped.

“Well, of course she did.” Des turned to her sister. “We both know that. Come to think of it, she made both of us pretty miserable, too. How long can you love someone who makes you feel sad, inadequate, and unloved all the time?”

“That’s our mother you’re talking about, Des. The woman who gave birth to us.”

“And regretted that she did. Let’s face it. Mom liked the idea of children way more than she ever liked actually having children. When she could whip us out in front of a camera to smooth out her image after she’d been on a bender, we served a purpose. Other than that, she really didn’t have much use for either of us.”

Before Allie could respond, Cara leaned forward and said, “Wait . . . back up. I think I may have missed something. Go back to the part where you told Dad he had to tell . . . the other woman he was going through with the divorce.”

“Careful, missy.” Allie trained a lethal glance in Cara’s direction. “That ‘other woman’ is our mother. And since she and Dad were never divorced, I believe it’s your mother who’s ‘the other woman.’?”

“Is that true, Uncle Pete? Was Dad still married to their mother when he married mine?” Cara’s stare ate right through him, and he knew that one of the moments he’d dreaded most was upon him.

He walked around his desk to sit on the right corner opposite Cara’s chair. “Well, technically . . . yes.”

“What does that mean? Either he was divorced or he wasn’t when he and Susa were married.” Cara’s eyes bored into Pete’s. “Was my father divorced from his first wife when he married my mother?”

“No.”

“Did my mother know that?”

“I . . . I can’t say for sure . . .” Pete mumbled. God, how he hated Fritz at that moment.

Unexpectedly, Cara laughed. “Of course you can. You knew everything about him.”

“I think he meant to tell her, in the beginning. But he fell so hard for Susa that as time went on, it became harder and harder to tell her. He wanted to make her happy, wanted to marry her.” He shrugged. “So he did.”

“How could he have married her mother when he was still married to ours?” Des asked. “Don’t you have to apply for a license? Aren’t there some sort of checks or something?”

Pete shrugged. “I honestly don’t know how he got around all that. He just showed up one morning with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. Asked me to drink a toast to his new bride.” Pete paused. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the light in Fritz’s eyes. There was no doubt that he’d been happier than Pete had ever seen him, and definitely head over heels in love.

“And you said . . . ?” Allie gestured for Pete to get on with it.

“I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure it was something to the effect of . . . well, to quote you, Allie, ‘What the hell?’?”

“Did you ask him about Mom? Did you ask him when he had filed for a divorce?” Des asked pointedly. “Though I would suspect that as his lawyer, you should’ve had a hand in that.”

“I did ask, and he hemmed and hawed, the way he did when he didn’t want to talk about something.” He glanced at each woman before adding, “I think you all know what I mean.”

The three women nodded.

“So what you’re saying is that he was a bigamist.” Cara was on the verge of tears. “How could he have done something like that to my mother?”

“Your mother?” Allie snorted. “What about our mother?”

“Did Mom know, Uncle Pete?” Des asked quietly.

“As far as I’m aware, he never told her.”

“Probably because they rarely spoke to each other.” Allie leaned back in her chair. “So can we cut to the chase? What does this all mean in terms of Dad’s will?”

“We find out that Dad had another wife and child and all you can think about is how this news is going to impact your inheritance?” Des asked.

“Of course it’s going to have an impact, assuming that Dad’s named her in his will,” Allie replied. “And I’m assuming he did, or she wouldn’t be here and there’d have been no need for this big revelation. Which, frankly, I couldn’t care less about. So Dad had a mistress and they had a kid together and—”

“She wasn’t his mistress,” Cara snapped, whirling to face Allie.

“Where I come from, if a woman cohabitates with a married man—”

“She didn’t know he was married. She couldn’t have known. She never would have . . .” Cara stood. “She wouldn’t have . . .” She choked back tears. “You didn’t know my mother. You don’t know who or what she was.”

Allie stared out the window behind Pete’s desk. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea of what she was.”

“Allie, stop,” Des exclaimed. “Don’t go there.”

“Why not? What would you call her? She was sleeping with another woman’s husband and had a child with him.”

“Drop it, Allie,” Pete said simply. More gently, he said, “Cara, sit down. There’s more you all need to know.”

All three women turned to him as if on cue.

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Allie said dramatically. “There’s a third woman out there. . . .”

Would it surprise him if there were? Pete pushed the thought from his head, returned to his chair, and took a deep breath. “Let me start by saying the three of you are the beneficiaries of Fritz’s will, with one—”

Allie interrupted. “Equal beneficiaries? Her too?”

“Yes. Equal.” He rested his forearms on the desk. “It’s a three-way split, and that is ironclad. I know because I wrote your father’s will. So get over it.”

When Allie opened her mouth—apparently not ready to let it go—Des said, “Oh, for crying out loud. Dad was pretty well-off, Al. He’d been a well-known entertainment agent and manager in Hollywood for years. One-third of his investments alone would keep even you in Jimmy Choos for a long, long time.” She glanced at Pete. “Right, Uncle Pete?”

He nodded. “Yes. Your father left a large estate. The sum you’re each going to inherit will be significant. Assuming that you meet the rest of the conditions.”

“What conditions?” Cara asked warily.

Now came the hard part. Pete cleared his throat again and launched into the part of the disclosure that he’d rehearsed over and over.

“Your father loved all of you very much. I know he didn’t always go out of his way to show it.” He directed these remarks to Allie and Des.

“That’s an understatement,” grumbled Allie. “If you call an occasional phone call proof of how much he loved us.” She tossed a dagger at Cara. “Of course, now we know why he was so preoccupied.”

Cara started to protest, but Pete raised a hand. “Trust me, there will be plenty of time to snipe at each other later.”

“That sounds ominous,” Des said.

Pete continued on with his speech. “As I said, your father loved you all. He wanted more than anything for you to know and love each other.”

“Which is why he kept her a secret.” Allie pointed in Cara’s direction.

“He didn’t tell me about you, either,” Cara countered.

“Ladies. Please.” Pete placed a hand on the top of his head, a habit once intended to smooth back his hair, which was now pretty much gone.

“If it was so important to him that we know each other, why didn’t he tell us himself?” Cara asked.

“Because at his core, he was a coward.” There. He’d said it. “He just couldn’t face you. I think he believed it didn’t matter so much because Nora was gone. Cara, after Susa died, he couldn’t face you with the truth. So he let it go and was convinced that the right time would present itself. As you know, it never did.”

“So what comes next?” Des asked softly.

“Your father wanted you all to share in not only his wealth, but in his life.”

“A little late on that score,” Allie scoffed.

“Something he came to very much regret at the end, believe me. He became obsessed with wanting you to know each other. Which is why he left a challenge for the three of you. If you’re successful, you inherit his entire estate. If you fail, you get nothing.”

The pronouncement was met with silence and blank stares.

Finally, Allie said, “Please tell us you’re kidding.”

“I assure you, I’m not. Nor was this my idea, by the way,” Pete told them. “Believe me. I did everything I could to talk him out of this. But he’d gotten it into his head that this was the way to—”

“What kind of challenge?” Cara blurted.

“Something along the lines of the twelve labors of Hercules would be my guess.” Allie folded her arms over her chest.

“Close, Allie. He wants the three of you to restore an old theater in his hometown. Together.”

“Wait, what?”

“Say that again?”

“Restore a theater? Had he lost his mind?”

Pete let the three of them vent for several minutes.

“If you’ve finished with your rantings, I’d like to continue.” He glanced from Allie to Des to Cara and back again. When it appeared they’d settled down, he continued. “The theater was built by your great-grandfather Reynolds Hudson. It’s an Art Deco treasure and belongs on the National Register of Historic Places...