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Creed’s blood ran cold, sending shivers through him as it drained from his face.
* * *
It was all over the news.
Amelia couldn’t believe it when she opened her local news app to check the weather. Her eyes were drawn immediately to Creed’s face above the headline: Singing Father Wanted by IRS for Tax Fraud, Could Lose Custody of His Daughter.
She called Creed immediately. He answered on the third ring, his voice raspy.
“Creed? What is going on?” she asked, realizing too late that just because it was on the news didn’t make it her business.
“Oh good, you saw the articles,” Creed stated, his voice flat.
She groaned inwardly, broken at the despair in his voice. “Creed.”
“Amelia, I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose Izzie, and I definitely can’t lose her to Hailey.”
“How can I help you? What can I do?”
“I have no idea, Amelia. I just…there’s so much to figure out,” he said.
“Okay, well if you need anything…”
When he didn’t answer, she whispered goodbye and hung up, not waiting to hear if Creed answered. She sat cross legged on her couch, staring at the pile of empty moving boxes near the front door. She really needed to break them down and take them to the recycling center.
The painful silence was shattered by the shrill ring of her cell phone. Her hopes rose, only to be dashed when she saw it was Lucy.
“Did you see it?” Lucy asked as soon as she answered.
“Yeah. I tried to call Creed, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk, I guess,” Amelia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in self disdain. And no wonder, Amelia, he’s worried about his daughter, she reminded herself, suddenly in full understanding of his abrupt response.
“I know. It’s crazy. I was at Chad’s last night when he came over. I guess Creed has been doing his taxes through an accountant. He has no idea where this claim is coming from, but the IRS guy he spoke with assures him there is no error. They said it’s from an old business he was co-owner of in college, so Creed has plans to meet with his accountant later this week to work it all out. The really crummy thing is how this was presented to him,” Lucy went on to explain how Creed had found out about the tax issue from Hailey’s lawyer.
“He said the guy was a real slime ball and that Hailey looks terrible,” Lucy said, not unkindly. “They implied that since jail time is hanging over his head they are going to push for custody. But then they talked about expecting Creed to pay child support. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Amelia chewed on her bottom lip, troubled. “You know, Lucy, something just isn’t right. I don’t know Hailey, but her behavior sure seems erratic, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s what the Williamses all think. We can’t figure it out. In all the times she’s insisted on seeing Izzie she hasn’t ever asked —not once—to see pictures of Izzie or even talk to her on the phone. Wouldn’t you think that would be the first thing she would want if she truly is a broken mother missing her child? Wouldn’t you think she’d just want to experience the years she’d lost in any way she could?”
Amelia thought back to her early autumn walk with Creed. She’d been eager to hear all about Izzie’s growing up years and she was only her teacher. “Yeah, something isn’t right there.”
They talked for a few minutes more before they signed off. Amelia read the article, heart aching for Creed. Something that normally could be resolved with a meeting with an IRS employee was being blown out of proportion by the media and a money hungry—
The thought that had begun to dawn in the recesses of Amelia’s mind for weeks hit her with sudden clarity.
“Oh my goodness.”
She immediately called Lucy back, her hands shaking. She knew her sister would understand.
“Hey, Sis. I have an idea of how to smoke out Hailey’s motives and maybe get her out of the picture. But you will have to do most of the work. Are you up for it?”
She explained what she had in mind, her words tumbling over one another. When she was finished, she waited anxiously for Lucy’s response.
“You’re a genius!” was the enthusiastic reply. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Let me get this straight,” Creed leaned his head back, bringing both hands up to squeeze the sides of his skull in frustration, “not only did my college roommate lie to me about how much our tutoring business was bringing in, but he also neglected to pay taxes on our income after he listed me as the owner of the company?”
His accountant, a long-time family friend, pointed again to the paper trail he had tracked back through the years that the IRS claimed Creed owed.
“Looks that way, Creed. Robbie must have had you sign something, maybe to make you think you were just a partner in the company. But it looks like after you left the company, he put it all in your name and stopped paying taxes. Before that he must have been, which is why the IRS was alerted to the situation,” he explained, his wire rimmed glasses slipping down his nose.
Creed sat up straight again. The chair beneath him groaned from the sudden shift in weight. He pointed to the date at the top of the first paper.
“What I don’t understand, Brian, is why it took this long for the IRS to say anything. I mean, most of this is interest, right? I might have been able to afford the original amount owed, but they can’t be serious with this interest,” Creed picked up the stack of papers and tossed them down again. His chest tightened at the helpless shrug Brian offered.
“The address was a post office box that was closed years ago. And it looks like Robbie had your name spelled wrong and neither of you noticed. Since both this and your current business are under Tax ID numbers and not social security, it took them a long time to track you down. I still don’t understand how that lawyer discovered it before you did, though. What a lousy way to find out about this.”
Another thought struck Creed, one that frightened him much more than a high interest rate.
“Can they really use this to get Izzie away from me, Brian?”
Brian interlaced his fingers on top of the table and leaned forward, his voice low, “I’m not a lawyer, Creed. I can’t help you there. My recommendation would be to find a way to pay this off as fast as you can. You do not want to owe the IRS money or be trapped into monthly payments with them. They will come in and evaluate all of your monthly bills. Then they determine what is necessary and what’s not.”
Creed snorted. “Fat chance of them being able to squeeze any money out that way; we live on a carefully orchestrated budget.”
“Is Izzie in any sports or activities?”
“No, not yet.” He had hoped to sign her up for gymnastics after the holidays.
“How much do you spend on groceries?”
Creed’s jaw dropped, “They look at that?”
“They look at everything.”
“I spend as much as we need for two people to eat.”
“They keep an average amount listed out for families of different sizes across the country. They will use that to determine how much they feel you need,” Brian answered.
His next question angered Creed. “And do you have a life insurance policy?”
“Of course I do,” he answered, lips terse. “I’m a single father.”
Brian leaned back, and crossed one leg over the opposite knee. He clicked a pen slowly, considering.
“I’ve seen them cancel those before. Listen, Creed,” he set the pen down. “If you can get a loan, I highly recommend it. You don’t want to owe the IRS money. Trust me.”
* * *
Hours later, Izzie by his side, Creed knocked on Chad’s door. He waited, wishing he could be anywhere else. As the Best Man in the wedding he was joining Chad, Lucy, and Amelia for a dinner to discuss wedding plans.
He hadn’t seen Amelia since their kiss, and wasn’t in the mood to now. Why he needed to be in on the wedding details was beyond him. Wasn’t his job just to be sure the groom didn’t toss his cookies right before he said, “I do?”
He didn’t stop to remind himself how readily he had agreed to the idea a few nights ago. He had been eager to see Amelia then, wanted to show her just how friendly he could be.
Chad opened the door, face beaming, but not fully able to hide the pity in his eyes.
My kid brother pities me, Creed thought. His already bad mood curdled. Awesome.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite niece and bro—“ Chad, seeing the look in Creed’s face, stopped short. He swallowed the jovial greeting and opened the door wider.
“Come on in. Lucy came over earlier to start cooking. She has really outdone herself.”
They walked through the small apartment living room and into the dining area next to it. Lucy entered from the kitchen, a tray in her hands, talking over her shoulder. Amelia came into sight behind her, laughing. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Creed. Her eyes flashed with hurt or pity. Or both. He wasn’t entirely sure. But the look in her eyes smarted his pride and got his hackles up even more.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Longest. Night. Ever.
Amelia took a sip of cranberry ginger ale. Creed’s foul mood, and the tension surrounding them, induced a stabbing pain behind her eyes. She focused on Izzie, happy to see her. Lucy had shared that Izzie had started at her old school that week, so she told her about her new job as well.
“I start after Thanksgiving so you’ll have to give me tips on how to be the new girl in class, okay?” She smiled into the young girl’s eyes.
“Oh, it’s easy,” Izzie bragged, sipping on the curly straw Lucy had plunked into her glass of milk.
Lucy and Chad had waited until everyone was seated and the prayer had been said to explain the impromptu dinner.
“We know we are asking a lot of you two around the busiest time of year. While our wedding should be simple, there will still be plenty of little details we will need your help with. Before we get caught up in the plans, we wanted to have you over for a thank you dinner in advance,” Chad clarified.
Lucy nodded. “We just love you both so much and appreciate how much you are supporting us.”
Amelia’s throat clenched and she smiled at Lucy, then Chad. “Well, of course. It’s my pleasure no matter what time of year it is. I’m really happy for you guys,” she said, glancing at Creed.
His eyes were on the table, lost in thought. The lull in conversation should have captured his attention. Izzie stared up at him and gently placed her small hand on his arm. Amelia wondered if this wasn’t the first time she’d watched her Dad drift into his thoughts over the last few days. Creed glanced up at her and Chad repeated the reason for the dinner. With a shake of his head, Creed gave a self-deprecating smile.
“Hey, if this charming woman is willing to make you her groom, the least I can do is be around to run interference for your ugly mug,” Creed said dryly.
Izzie giggled.
“Gee thanks,” Chad deadpanned.
Although the teasing was in Creed’s usual tone, the light of his smile was dull, his laughter forced. He pushed his food around distractedly, barely eating the lasagna or garlic bread on his plate. Izzie must have noticed as well; she stared up at her father, her forehead pinched with worry.
Amelia took pity on them both.
“Izzie, what do you say we talk Chad into letting us have dessert in the living room? We can watch that cartoon you wanted to show us.” Amelia leaned in and wiggled her eyebrows up and down at her former student.
“Of course!” Lucy answered. “Chad, you don’t mind, right?”
“Absolutely not, my beautiful bride-to-be,” Chad leaned over to receive a kiss. Lucy brushed her lips against his, serenity painting her pretty face.
In the kitchen, Amelia showed Izzie how to squirt whipped cream from the can onto individual mousse cups in perfect little billows. Together they arranged the cups on a tray. Amelia and Lucy chatted easily with Izzie about her role as flower girl in the wedding. Amelia could hear the men speaking in low voices from the next room.
Before they left the kitchen, Amelia picked Izzie up to sit on the counter and help her measure out coffee grounds into Chad’s machine. Izzie pressed “Brew” and Amelia helped her hop down again. They walked hand in hand to the living room.
The men had moved to the couch and Izzie pulled her hand away to sit in between them.
“What movie are we watching this time?” Chad asked with a barely concealed grimace. Apparently Izzie had a reputation for bringing over kid movies.
“A bunch of shorts made by Disney. Rapunzel’s wedding is on here; it’s my favorite and I thought you could get ideas,” Izzie explained.
“That was thoughtful, Izzie,” Lucy cooed, carrying in the tray of mousse. She winked at her fiancé.
Amelia handed out the mousse while Lucy held the tray. She gave a cup of the luscious dessert first to Izzie, then held another out to Creed. He stared into her eyes for a heartbeat, saying more with one look than he had all evening.
The chocolate mousse slipped from her fingers and landed upside down in his lap.
Creed leaped off the couch as if he were on fire. He caught the glass cup just before it hit the coffee table, but not before chocolate and whipped cream splattered across the surface.
Everyone stared at them in wide-eyed silence. Amelia’s hand covered her mouth, Creed stood frozen.
Izzie giggled. Then Lucy. Chad covered his mouth with one hand and stared at the television. Amelia glared at her sister, then pulled her gaze back to Creed.
“Where’s that photographer that caught our last clumsy moment, Howard?”
The unexpected twinkle in his eyes was her undoing. She snatched up the tray from Lucy and marched into the kitchen, her face hot. Once alone in the small space, away from their shocked faces and Creed’s handsome grin, she let him have it.
Well, so she let him have it in the safety of her own mind, anyway.
She might be acting unreasonably. Might be overreacting. Might have set the tray down too hard, but honestly? Who did Creed think he was? He had been a jerk all evening. He gave her the best kiss of her life—again—and then disappeared.
Again.
Not that that one was exactly his fault. But it most definitely was his fault that he came to a pleasant dinner with a thundercloud over his head and then had the audacity to look at her in that way that reached all the way to her toes.
A shuffling sound in the doorway whirled Amelia around on her heel. Creed held his hands up in surrender, chocolate mousse smattered across his shirt and pants. Amelia grabbed a roll of paper towels from next to the sink and tossed them to him. Her eyes stung and she turned away, mortified.
Good grief, Amelia. Get a grip. Quick!
She busied herself with the coffees, arranging four mugs on the tray. A small mug of hot chocolate was added for Izzie. She found the sugar bowl from a set Lucy had brought over before reaching into the fridge for the matching cream pitcher. The scratchy sound of Creed cleaning off his shirt made her cringe. Without a word Amelia found a washcloth and ran it under warm water at the kitchen sink. She turned to Creed and handed it to him.
“Truce,” she whispered.
“I know I’ve been quiet this week, but do you think you can forgive me, Amelia?” he asked, reaching for the cloth. His fingers brushed hers, but she pulled back before he could affect her more.
“Of course.” She lifted a shoulder and puckered her lips to one side, “I’m just trying to crawl down from ‘Overreaction Mountain’ here with some dignity, Creed.”
Creed used the wet cloth to clean up while Amelia poured coffee into the mugs. When she was finished, she glanced over at him where he had leaned against the doorjamb. I wonder if he knows how utterly attractive it is when he shoves his hands in his front pockets like that?
Her eyes moved over the giant wet spots all over his clothes and she smirked.
Well, most of the time, anyway.
Creed ignored her smirk and stepped closer. He looked above her head for a moment as if the right words would etch themselves into the cabinets. Finally, he looked back into her eyes. “I owe you an apology. I’ve been, uh, distracted. But that is not an excuse for coming here in a foul mood.” He reached to tuck a curl of hair behind her ear.
Amelia sighed. “Creed, do you think I don’t understand your stress? It makes complete sense and you do not owe me any explanation or apology. Would you forgive me for turning into an irrational female back there?”
He snorted. “An irrational female? No, that would only be if you dumped the mousse on me on purpose. I’m sorry I laughed at you and mentioned the photographer. I don’t know why I did that,” Creed looked down at his feet.
Awkward silence stretched between them.
“Well, it was pretty funny,” Amelia conceded, suddenly seeing how ridiculous the entire situation was. Maybe he was trying to get off his own mountain.
Creed glanced up. Amelia picked up the tray.
“Now why don’t you go on back out there and have a seat? I’ll deliver your coffee right to you,” she winked, pretending to be unsteady on her feet.
“Yeah, right to my lap,” Creed said dryly, reaching out to take the tray from her.
They stood facing one another, both holding the tray, eyes locked together. The golden flecks in Creed’s brown eyes glowed, warming and cooling as a range of emotions played across his face. Amelia felt the heat start from her toes to her stomach and up her neck to bloom on her cheeks.
“Are we ever going to talk about us and that kiss, Amelia? I mean really talk?” his low voice stirred something deep in her belly.
“Guys!” Izzie called from the living room, jolting Amelia back on her heels. The tray rattled as she let go, leaving Creed to catch the weight on his side. He righted the tray just in time.
“Yeah, kiddo?” he called.
