Eight Years Gone, page 26
Grace sat, waiting for Bea to settle.
“Now tell me how you’ve been.”
Grace shrugged. “I’m all right. Mostly, I’m finding myself looking for answers.”
Bea nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. Your father’s passing was very unexpected—very tragic. He came by to take me out for dinner a couple of months ago.”
Grace picked up her cup, holding it in her chilly hands. “He did?”
Bea nodded again. “Your dad often checked up on me. He always took great care of me. When you went on your way and I retired, he bought me this house. He set me up with a generous monthly income for the remainder of my days.”
Grace smiled. “I know he loved you very much.”
“That he did.” Bea added a splash of milk to her cup. “He’d been about to head off to the new clinic in Africa. That was certainly a big passion of his.”
Grace swallowed because she’d had no idea. “I didn’t realize that was something he’d been interested in.”
“Oh, very much so. He’d mentioned that he planned to head over regularly to offer his expertise. There’s a lot of need over in that part of the world.”
Grace sighed. “Yes, there is.”
“I know you two had your troubles, but I also know he was very proud of you.”
Grace hoped that was true. “He and I left things on such bad terms. I regret that I’ll never be able to tell him how sorry I am.”
“He had his regrets, honey. He told me once that your mom would have been so disappointed in him. She’d left him two happy, thriving, wonderful kids and he’d messed everything up.”
Grace set down her cup, stirring her tea, struggling with a new wave of sadness. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything at all. Your father was a good man, but he also had his flaws—just like the rest of us. We all have moments we wish we could do over or take back. I hope someday you’ll be able to remember some of your better days together. I know he loved showing off your work in that magazine you freelance for.”
Grace blinked, surprised again. “He subscribed to Travel?”
Bea nodded. “He brought over a copy when he was here, gushing over your pictures.”
Grace found herself smiling, liking the idea. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Of course.”
They both sipped their tea before Grace set her cup down. “How are you doing?”
“My health is good for an old lady. Jeremy and his family are doing well. But I’m certainly grieving. Steve and you kids were such a big part of my life. And Rose, of course.”
Grace covered Bea’s hand. “I don’t know what we would have done without you, especially after we lost Mom.”
“It was always my pleasure to step in and help, not that I could ever take her place.” Bea gave her a gentle squeeze. “Eat up your lunch and tell me what it’s like to have Jagger back in your life. It was the best kind of shock to see him at the funeral.”
Grace couldn’t help but grin. “It’s wonderful to have him home. Everything about our life together is so good. We’re going to Montana soon for our first real vacation.”
Bea smiled. “I knew he would be back. It was just a matter of time. I’m glad you found your way back to one another after all these years.”
“Me too.” She dug her spoon into the melted cheese, grabbing a crouton with a bite of the soup, blowing before she sampled. “It’s as amazing as I remember.”
Bea beamed. “I’ll send you home with some of the extras. I’ll pack up the cheese and croutons so you can make a proper lunch tomorrow.”
“I won’t turn you down.”
Bea ate several bites of her own.
Grace set down her spoon, clearing her throat. “Bea, can I ask you a question about my parents?”
Bea set down her spoon. “Of course, sweetie.”
“Jagger and I went to the mansion last week. I was looking around and found Mom’s journals in the attic.”
“I forgot about those.”
“Me too.” She cleared her throat again. “Do you remember them being happy together? Mom and Dad?” That wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to say, but it seemed better than blurting out what she’d read in her mother’s troubling last entry.
“More than they weren’t from what I saw during the years. Your mother always brought out your father’s softer side. She made him laugh. He loved her dearly. Our precious Rose.”
Grace couldn’t bring herself to ask if Bea thought her father could have been unfaithful. Bea had loved him like her own son. “Do you remember the summer you had to go to Washington? My mom had a college girl watch us. Jessica.”
Bea nodded as she sipped her tea. “She was a lovely young woman. Great with you kids. Quite a pretty one she was.”
Grace swallowed. “She was from the neighborhood, right? In the suburbs?”
“Yes. Just a block or two away. The Sawyer family, if I remember correctly.”
Grace perked up. “Jessica Sawyer?”
Bea nodded. “They were a lovely family—a little strict with their girls.”
Grace tucked her hair behind her ear. “Jessica had a little boy?”
Bea frowned. “No, I don’t think so. She was in college at the time. The family moved away the following spring. I didn’t see her again after that.”
“Oh.”
Bea looked at her now. “What has you thinking about Jessica?”
Grace shrugged. “I’d forgotten about her until I read about her in Mom’s journals. I remember her being a good babysitter, but I don’t remember much else.”
“Eat more of your soup, sweet girl. It’s cold out today.”
Grace nodded, deciding that she’d poked and prodded enough, but as she occasionally sipped at her soup, she wondered about Jessica Sawyer from down the block.
Grace turned the key in the lock on the twentieth floor, taking a steadying breath as she stepped inside her father’s condo.
Hesitating by the door, she debated whether to leave it ajar as her gaze tracked around the gloomy space on the cloudy afternoon.
She didn’t want to be here. The night she’d walked down memory lane with Jagger had been bad enough. Today the cologne lingering in the air and unsettling silence left her eager to get home.
But she’d had to come after her lunch date with Bea—now that she had the name of her father’s potential ex-lover. If there was another child in her father’s life, there had to be documentation somewhere.
Ready to get her impromptu visit over with, she hurried down the hall to the office, making a beeline to the desk, leafing through her dad’s bills and meal receipts.
She opened each of the drawers, looking through more of the same. When she found nothing there, she headed upstairs to the master suite.
Stopping in the doorway, she studied her dad’s slacks neatly folded on the corner of the bed—his work pants he’d never gotten a chance to put away.
“I’m sorry I’m here like this. I’m sorry I’m invading your privacy.” Because nothing about today’s visit to the city felt the same as reading her mother’s journals. “I have to know.”
Struggling with a messy mix of grief and guilt, she moved to the closet, pulling down the two boxes on the shelf, finding several belts and old neckties.
“There’s nothing,” she whispered as she headed to the bedside table, opening the drawer, spotting a business card for Jericho, Cromwell, and Fitch.
She immediately stood straight. “Dennis. Why didn’t I think of that?”
If her dad had another child, his attorney would surely know.
Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she dialed the number on the card.
“Jericho, Cromwell, and Fitch, how may I direct your call?”
“Good afternoon. This is Grace Evans for Dennis Fitch.”
“Please hold, Ms. Evans.”
“Thank you.”
She paced before the massive windows as the canned music played in her ear, eager for her answers. Yet, as one minute ticked into two, her stomach grew queasy.
“Grace. This is Dennis. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
She stopped moving, pressing her hand to her stomach as she stared out at the city. “It’s no problem.”
“What can I do for you this afternoon?”
How did she ask what she needed to know? ‘Hey, Dennis, did my dad have a love child?’
Cringing at the idea, she shook her head. “Um, I found some of my mother’s old journals at the Wakeview house. In her final entry, the day before her death, she mentioned that she saw a woman with a little boy—a little boy who looked just like Logan.”
The line stayed silent.
Grace cleared her throat. “I was wondering if you know about another child. Do you know if my father has another son?”
Dennis sighed. “Grace, I’m sure you’ve heard of attorney-client privilege—”
“Yes, I have. But my father’s no longer with us.”
“Unfortunately, this is true. It’s also unfortunate that this is a conversation I can’t have with you. Steve was a client for many, many years. I considered him a friend. Even after his death, I’m not allowed to divulge any conversations that were had in confidence.”
“Then you’re not denying it? My father had another child?”
“I didn’t say that. I shared the estate your father left in trust for his only living daughter. I’m afraid that’s all I can legally divulge.”
She turned away from the view as her frustration grew. “But my father had apologized to my mother. I may very well have another brother.”
“I’m sorry that I can’t help you, Grace. But please let me know how I can assist you with any questions or concerns you might have about the estate.”
She sighed. “Sure.”
“Goodbye, Grace.”
She didn’t bother returning the final pleasantry as she hung up, not entirely sure what to think.
Dennis hadn’t confirmed that she had another brother, but he certainly hadn’t gone out of his way to put her mind at ease.
She blew out a long breath as she looked at the ceiling. “This wasn’t helpful at all.”
Glancing around the room once more, she headed downstairs as quickly as she’d come, digging in her purse for the keys to lock up.
She reached for the doorknob as her phone alerted her to a text. Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she read Jagger’s message.
Hey, sexy.
Not wasting another second, she stepped into the hall, securing the deadbolt before she responded.
Hey, handsome. How’s California?
Not too shabby, especially since I’m heading out on the first flight tomorrow. If all goes well, we’ll be eating dinner together in person.
She closed her eyes, relieved that he would be back soon—that she would finally be able to tell him everything and pick his brain. That’s great!
I’m going to get things finished up out here so I can get home to you. Are we still on for FaceTime at 6?
She glanced at her watch, heading for the elevators. She needed to get on the road before the traffic became impossible. I wouldn’t miss it.
I miss you.
She stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the garage. I miss you too. I love you.
I love you too.
Shoving her phone away as the doors opened not far from where she parked her SUV, she quickly walked to the driver’s side, eager to get back to Preston Valley for her FaceTime dinner and to put several miles between herself and her father’s life.
Thirty-One
Grace sat on the living room floor, writing on a long sheet of the craft paper she kept on hand for Braden’s visits.
Braden’s love for drawing was coming in handy as she added every date and occasion where Jessica Sawyer’s name had appeared in her mother’s journals.
Over the last three days, delving into her parents’ lives had consumed her. Needing to discover the truth about her potential younger brother had taken on a life of its own.
Seconds after she ended her FaceTime dinner with Jagger last night, she’d grabbed all of her mother’s journals, bookmarking dates and any mentions of her long-ago babysitter, plus any disagreements between her mom and dad.
At some point after midnight, she’d gone on the hunt for Braden’s roll of paper in the guest room, deciding that writing the dates and corresponding information in a timeline format might give her a clearer picture of when everything had gone so wrong—when a potential brother may have been conceived.
Yawning, exhausted after little sleep and another long day at the shop, she gained her feet as she wore gray yoga pants and a comfy blue sweatshirt, standing over the compiled information, focusing on a time when her mother had been extra busy commuting from the suburbs to Preston Valley to help Aunt Maggie, and Jessica had been a regular in their lives.
“Is that when it happened?” she said in the quiet of the house, looking again at the time frame that seemed to make the most sense.
“It would’ve had to have been here,” she mumbled to herself as she bent down, circling a potential couple of dates with a red marker. “Right?”
She impatiently swiped at the hairs escaping her messy bun off her cheek. “Mom said the little boy looked to be about two. But what if he wasn’t?”
Sitting down as the doubts crept back in, she read through the pages of the journal again, making certain that she hadn’t missed anything.
Jagger took a left on Summer Street, smiling as the lights on in Grace’s house came into view.
The place looked warm and homey. The woman he loved was inside. Soon they would be eating dinner and the double-fudge brownies she’d mentioned she was making for dessert. They would enjoy some great conversation, then some even better sex. All in all, they were in for a perfect night.
Pulling into the driveway, he wasted little time grabbing his travel bag, their dinner, and the flowers he’d snagged at the grocery store—not as pretty as something he would have found at Simplicity, but it was about the gesture.
He walked up the path and inside, pausing in the doorway as he stared at Grace sitting on the floor, surrounded by long sheets of paper and her mother’s journals.
Her head whipped around. “Jagger.”
He set the food on the entryway table and his bag off to the side. “That’s me.”
She frowned as she looked at the clock before her eyes grew wide. “I completely lost track of time.” She stood, walking to him, wrapping him up in a hug. “I lost track of time,” she said again.
He held her close, breathing her in. “That’s okay.”
“I didn’t make your brownies.” She eased back enough to kiss him. “I’m so sorry.”
He frowned this time, studying her troubled eyes and the dark circles her concealer didn’t quite hide. “We’ll make them together another time.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“Don’t worry about it.” He looked toward the mess on the floor. “That looks like quite a project.”
She shrugged. “I’ve been looking into some things.”
Needing to touch her, he slid his hands up and down the sides of her waist. “That sounds intriguing.”
She jerked her shoulders again. “I found some stuff in my mom’s last journal. I think my dad might have cheated. I think I have another brother—”
His palms froze against her sweatshirt. “What?”
“I know.” She huffed out a breath as she shook her head, stepping away, pacing as she talked. “I went to Philly to talk to Bea. Then I went to Dad’s apartment. I called Dennis Fitch to ask him about it, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.”
The surprises kept coming. “You did all of this today?”
“Well, no. I found the entry on Monday. I asked Asa a few questions on Tuesday, but he couldn’t help me much. I went to Bea’s and to Philly yesterday, but I didn’t get a whole lot of information there either.”
He shook his head this time because he was certain he’d heard her wrong. “You’ve known about this since Monday?”
She nodded. “I’m not actually sure that this is anything at all. It seems like it is, but…”
He slid his fingers through his hair, more than a little shocked. “Are you serious right now? We’ve been talking on the phone for the last three days. We had dinner together every night.”
She winced. “I know. I just— It seems so unimaginable—so ridiculous. I didn’t want to mention it until I needed to. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Bother me, damn it. Because it’s not a bother.” He walked to the counter, setting the flowers on the quartz, feeling the slow burn of his temper blooming to life.
“Jesus, Grace. Since when is this a thing? We used to talk about everything. You used to tell me everything.”
“Jagger—”
“I need a few minutes.” Mad in a way he’d never been—at least not at Grace, he headed for the door, grabbed his bag, then walked out.
Grace stared at the door, flinching when Jagger turned over his engine.
This wasn’t the way their evening was supposed to go.
She was supposed to have paid attention to the time and made Jagger his favorite brownies. They were supposed to have eaten dinner while they discussed her mother’s journal entry and concluded that it was all a big mistake. Then they were supposed to have moved on to the master suite so she could properly welcome him home. She’d even snagged some organic rose petals from the shop to run them a sexy second-dessert bath.
But Jagger definitely wasn’t supposed to have left.
Grabbing her purse, she hurried for the door, needing to fix her mistake.
She’d never meant to make Jagger mad. This whole situation was a first for her—for both of them. She’d never lost her father to a tragic accident, then wondered if he’d fathered another child. She’d never kept such a big worry to herself—at least not from Jagger.
She and Jagger had argued before—of course, they had—but he’d never ever left before they worked stuff out.
