Escaping Shadows, page 7
Georgie had to hide a smile because she’d learned all the versions of bless your heart and this one was not the nice one.
Her mother looked as if she’d just stepped out of the boardroom. Her father looked like Ryker in his bespoke suit, but he didn’t carry himself the way Ryker did. Ryker was all quiet confidence because he knew he could knock someone out with both his intelligence and his right hook. Her father was five foot nine and maybe a hundred forty pounds of bully and bluster.
Her mother’s freshly dyed blonde hair was as perfect as the pearls around her neck. Her mother already looked as if she were on her last nerve as she glanced at Maggie. “I’m Margot Shaw Greyson. Of the Martha’s Vineyard Greysons and the Boston Shaws. I’m here for my daughter, Georgina,” she said in her stiff, Boston’s Back Bay society voice, her jaw clenched.
Georgie wanted to roll her eyes at the stuffy proclamation. Couldn’t her parents relax and stop acting so superior, for crying out loud?
Maggie smiled her Charleston society smile and held out her hand, showing off the giant pearl bracelet. She brushed her hair behind her ear with her other hand to expose equally large pearl earrings. “Magnum Charlotte Elizabeth Bell of the Shadows Landing Bells. I’m Georgie’s best friend. It is so lovely to meet you.”
With no option given to her, Georgie watched as her mother shook Maggie’s hand. She took in the antique pearls that adorned Maggie’s neck with a slight widening of her eyes that again made Georgie hide a smile.
“How long have your people been in this . . . quaint town?” Margot asked with a hint of insult to her voice.
“Since 1699. When did your people come to your quaint town?” Maggie asked with perfect manners.
“Well, my family came to Boston in 1719 and the Greysons came to the Vineyard in 1721.”
“Oh, you’re young society, just like those pearls you’re wearing. That’s so sweet.” Maggie cocked her head and Georgie had to bite her lip. Her mother had just been out-Debbed by Maggie, and Georgie was here for it.
An obvious spasm of pique crossed her mother’s face as she turned her fury on Georgina. Harper leaned over and whispered, “Want me to stab them?”
Georgie looked down to see the knife in Harper’s hand and laughed. There was no need to fear her parents. They couldn’t touch her anymore. They’d controlled her with money, with duty to the family, and with threats, but she wasn’t in their house any longer. She wasn’t in their society any longer. She was here, standing on her own two feet in her own home.
“I’m so glad this amuses you,” her mother snapped. “We had an important party to attend today that we’re going to miss to be here and drag our errant daughter home.”
“You’re not dragging Georgie anywhere.” Kord might have said it simply, but there was nothing simple in his no-nonsense tone.
Georgie sent him a smile of thanks before turning back to her parents. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. I told Borden I wasn’t going back to Massachusetts. He should have told you that and saved you all the trip. But it is lovely seeing you both again. Give my best to John Shaw when you get home.”
Her father looked ready to lose his temper. His face was getting redder and redder and his jaw tightened. He stepped forward and lowered his voice, but Maggie didn’t budge so he had to speak between Maggie’s and Gator’s shoulders. “Enough of this childishness, Georgina. It’s time to go home. Now.”
Instead of fear, Georgie felt anger. All the years of blind duty and this was what they said to her? Not we missed you. Not sorry we used you as a pawn. Nothing. “I am home, Father.”
“You are an embarrassment to our good name. The Greysons have a reputation to uphold and you’re here slinging drinks to a bunch of rednecks? If this got out—”
Gator pulled out a huge hunting knife and started picking his teeth. “Is this fella calling us rednecks?” he asked Turtle who pulled out a knife that was so obscenely large it was clear he was making up for his pecker size.
“I think he is. And he’s upsetting our Miss Georgie,” Turtle answered as he began to clean his nails with the tip of the knife.
“It’s Georgina,” her mother snapped.
“She’s a Greyson for crying out loud.” Her father lifted his nose as if they smelled bad.
The sound of chairs scraping on the hardwood floor echoed through the bar as every Faulkner and Townsend stood, but it was Skeeter’s laugh that drew everyone’s attention. He nodded at the air as if the pirates were saying something funny.
“For someone so concerned with family duty and genealogy, you sure don’t know yours,” Skeeter said with a chuckle.
“My ancestors are direct descendants of a royal duke. How dare you question them or me,” her father was back to sounding haughty.
“Aye,” Skeeter said, suddenly sounding a little like a pirate. “But they’re not blood relatives, now are they? Your Martha’s Vineyard family came from Ireland because they were so poor they had no other option but to leave their homeland or starve. Your ancestor was a whaler in Martha’s Vineyard and his wife was a fishmonger. In fact, they weren’t even Greysons. They were Smythes.”
“That is not true!” her father spat.
Skeeter nodded to the air again. “Oh, it’s true. Your many times over great- Mamaw was a fishmonger whose husband got pressed into pirate service by Edward Low. Now, Edward Low was a mean son of a bitch. The torture he was known for is not fit for ladies’ ears as he liked to cut off ears and lips and force his victims to them eat them. But I digress. See, Low came to the Carolinas once and met some friends of mine. They didn’t take too kindly to him. When he visited Shadows Landing, he had a pet with him. A pet by the name of John Smythe. He’d been a whaler from Martha’s Vineyard when he’d turned on his captain after capture and told where the hidden compartment was with their payment in exchange for his life. Low burned the ship with the captain tied to the mast. The other sailors were put adrift, but Low kept John.”
“That is a lie,” Georgina’s father said, turning a deeper shade of red.
“Nope. It’s not.” Skeeter said with a shrug, not caring that Greyson was pissed. “Anne Bonny, Big Beard, Black Law, and Edward Low sailed out from Shadows Landing at the same time. Low on his way back to Rhode Island, Big Beard and Black Law to Jamaica, and Anne to the Bahamas. They were still together when they were attacked by a British man-o-war ship outside of Charleston. John Smythe leaped into the ocean and swam toward the British, begging to be saved. He always looked for the better option. Who could he use to enrich his life? He’d sucked up to Low to save his life at the cost of the whaler’s captain and the rest of the crew, as well as the ship. Then when he saw that Low was close to losing, he jumped ship. Literally.”
“My father was a Boston banker!”
Georgie was enthralled in Skeeter’s story. “What happened to John Smythe?”
“He was shot in the back by Low for being a coward. It’s rumored that Anne Bonny said if the men had fought like the women of Shadows Landing, they wouldn’t have lost. Anne’s ship made it safely to the Bahamas. Big Beard made it to Jamacia and Black Law’s limped back here. The British followed Low. Low met up with his old friend, George Lowther, and headed to Africa. However, this was the beginning of the end for Low. But, not for the Smythes. See, Mrs. Smythe couldn’t be a fishmonger without a healthy fishing trade, so when she found out she was pregnant, she went to Boston. She found work as a maid for a rich widower with no children. His wife had died in a carriage accident that had also rendered him sterile. His testicles were impaled by splintered wood from the carriage.” Every male groaned and crossed their legs.
“Mrs. Smythe connived her way into his heart.” Skeeter leveled Georgie’s father with a glare. “She gave birth to a boy. In exchange for an heir or maybe he loved her, the banker, Wendell Greyson, married her and claimed the boy as his, making him his heir. Then to keep the money in the family, he married his niece to Wendell Jr. So, you see, you’re not even a Greyson.”
“Lies! Borden, sue this man for slander. Take everything he has.”
Borden stepped forward and a slight breeze rustled through the bar sending chills down Georgie’s spine. Borden froze and then backed slowly toward the door. “I’ll, um, file as soon as we get home.”
“You always were a dick, Wendell,” Ryker drawled from across the room. “Now it makes sense why. You’re a coward, just like your ancestor was.”
Recognition hit Margot first. “Mr. Faulkner, what are you doing here?”
“I live here, Margot. And now I think it’s time you leave. These people are my family and friends. You’ve done nothing but try to insult them since you walked through the door. Leave.”
“You might think you’re all powerful,” her father started to say. “But you can’t force us to do anything.”
“But I can.” Kord stepped forward and Georgie ached to pull him back to her. She wanted to protect him from her parents’ anger.
“Who do you think you are?” Her mother snapped.
“I’m Kordell King. I’m Georgie’s boyfriend. Harper, do you want these people in your bar?”
“Boyfriend! King? There are no good families with that name. I’m not leaving without my daughter.”
Harper smiled as she got what he was doing. “No. I don’t want them here. Mr. and Mrs. Greyson,” Harper paused and shook her head. “Sorry, is it Smythe now? Either way. Please leave right now. You’re no longer welcome on my property.” Georgie watched her mother stare down Harper, and didn’t see Kord stepping forward.
“Ma’am, sir. If you don’t leave the premises immediately—”
“You have no authority here. This is a family matter,” her mother said with her nose up in the air. That is until Kord dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of her face.
“Here’s my authority.” He held up a badge in his other hand. “Sorry to be meeting you like this. Would have loved to have a nice family dinner, but I guess arresting you both for trespassing cuts out a family Thanksgiving.”
“You can’t do that. You have no grounds. Borden, take care of this nuisance.”
“Mother!” Georgie snapped. “That is enough. Kord is not a nuisance. He’s the man I love and you will treat him and me with respect or you will never see me again.”
“Borden,” Olivia said smoothly as she and Granger stepped forward. “You file one suit, one complaint, or even say anyone’s name here, and I’ll wipe the courthouse floor with you like I did the last time you went against me. Got it?” Olivia turned to the Greysons with a withering stare. “You know who I am, so let’s cut the crap. Georgina is my friend. Kord is my friend. You’ve upset them. This show is over. You’ve come, you’ve said very little, and you’ve lost a daughter and a great future son-in-law. Furthermore, since the owner of this establishment has asked you to leave, and you’ve refused, Kord can and will arrest you for trespassing. Leave or I’ll tie up every company, every house, every investment you have in lawsuits until I bleed every cent you have just for shits and giggles.”
Georgina’s mother turned to her and all Georgie saw was hatred. Her heart should have broken, but it had been broken so long ago that she no longer felt a thing. That was until Kord stepped closer to offer silent support. Then her broken heart started to mend.
“You look lovely, Mother. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that. I’m sorry this didn’t work out the way you wanted, but I am happy. I have a great life here. I hope someday you both can respect that and we can mend this rift. Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye, Father.”
The room was quiet as the three turned and left. Then all eyes turned to Georgie. She hated the feeling of everyone knowing they were her parents. They’d been horrible — so rude, so judgmental, and so arrogant.
“They sure do talk funny,” Gator drawled.
Georgie burst out laughing. Sure, there were some tears mixed in, but she was loved here. She had true friends. She was blessed.
Harper gave her a little hip check and a wink as Tristan slipped out the back, probably to follow them. Kord ducked under the bar then she was in his arms. “I’m so sorry, babe. That was rough.”
“I’m glad it’s over. Although y’all talked more than I did, I held my ground and said what I wanted to say.”
“You said, ‘y’all,’” Skeeter said with a whoop. He held up his beer. “To Miss Georgie. Great-something-granddaughter of an Irish whaler and a fishmonger.”
Georgie laughed again even as fresh tears started. “I love y’all. Thank you.” With Kord’s arm around her, she leaned forward to get Skeeter’s attention. “How did you learn all that about my family?”
“Anne wasn’t sure, but asked me to look into it. Then when she saw your father, she told me she was sure. He looks just like the John Smythe that she and Black Law insisted I investigate the other day. They really hated Low, but they hated cowardice more. I hate to admit it, but I asked Stephen Adkins to call in some favors for me up in Boston and Martha’s Vineyard.”
Georgie gasped. “But you hate Dr. Adkins!” Stephen Adkins was the head of the historical society and thought his education made him superior to the oral history handed down to Skeeter.
“It was worth it. I hate to say it, but I think we came to an understandin’.” Skeeter turned and raised his beer to the man sitting by himself in the corner, looking a bit out of place in a cardigan sweater with leather elbow patches.
Dr. Adkins hesitantly stood and picked up a leather satchel. He walked toward the bar, not knowing if he was welcome or not. Georgie poured him a glass of red wine and handed it to him when he stood next to Skeeter. “Skeeter said you helped him. Thank you.”
Dr. Adkins looked surprised but then turned back to Georgie. He lifted his satchel and put it on the bar. “You’re welcome, Miss Greyson.” He sounded very formal as he opened the bag and pulled out a thick binder. “It was fun to do that kind of research again.” He pushed the binder toward her. “Here is your family history. I worked with the historical societies in both Boston and Martha’s Vineyard to get copies of all the history, birth certificates, newspapers, death certificates, and so forth. I thought you might want them.”
Georgie took the binder and opened it up. It was laid out chronologically beginning with the present and tracing her family history all the way back to Ireland. It was clear as day—she was a Smythe. The child’s date of birth told her that much. Did people really believe a full-term baby was six months old?
“Do the historical societies know about my lineage?” Georgie asked.
Stephen shook his head and then pushed up his glasses. “No. Skeeter thought it would be better to keep them separate. I put all the pieces together and will let you do with it what you will.”
Georgie tapped the binder and nodded. “Thank you, Stephen. Would you mind working with Skeeter one more time?”
The two rivals glanced at each other but then shrugged. “I can do that.”
Skeeter nodded. “Wasn’t as bad as I thought. What do you need?”
“Can you keep this safe?” She pushed the binder towards Skeeter. “If I need it, you can release it to the press. I assume Stephen has contacts in the historical societies who would find this interesting.”
Both men nodded. “We’ll take care of it,” Skeeter swore.
Georgie thanked them. She didn’t care about her last name anymore. All she cared about was in this bar. The man she was falling in love with, her friends, and her future.
10
Kord gave Georgie her space as she relaxed. He sat at a table with a mix of Townsend brothers and the town. Olivia sat between Damon, her eldest brother, and Granger while Maggie was reluctantly between Kord and Hunter Townsend. Kord didn’t know what Hunter did more specifically than being in the military, but he thought highly of his skills, not realizing Maggie was an Olympic medal-winning sharpshooter. Hunter could come across as arrogant, which was why Maggie was currently rolling her eyes at him.
“If it were as easy as just shooting them, I would have done that already,” Maggie said, stopping Hunter’s idea of hunting down Georgie’s family and eliminating the threat.
Hunter was an intimidating man, but Maggie wasn’t intimidated. The woman just out-debbed a New England socialite for crying out loud. A super soldier was nothing. “You’d have to find someone to monogram your gun first. Let me guess. You have a cute little pink gun that fits in your purse that can maybe fire off a big enough caliber to kill a mosquito?”
“Hunter,” Olivia groaned. “Maggie—”
“All my gun cases are monogrammed,” Maggie said, cutting off Olivia with a smirk. Apparently, she liked Hunter putting his foot in his mouth over and over again. Hunter gave a victorious look to the table as Kord and Granger shook their heads.
“Is it just me or does Darcy look as if she’s having appendix problems?” Olivia asked her husband, but it was loud enough for Kord to hear. He turned to also see Lydia watching Darcy with an analyzing eye. Darcy Faulkner did look uncomfortable, but then again, she was due any day now.
Lydia leaned down and whispered to Landry Jr., who nodded and began pushing his way across the bar to the table of Faulkner men. Kord watched as Lydia smiled kindly at Darcy and tapped her arm to get her attention from her friends.
“Hi, Lydia.” Darcy smiled, but there was a tightness to her lips.
“I think you need to go to the hospital. You’re in labor.”
Darcy laughed and then grimaced. “Nah, it’s just indigestion. I shouldn’t have had the spicy cheese dip.”
Lydia wasn’t about to let Darcy go back to her conversation with Tinsley, Edie, and Skye. “I’ve had eight children. You’re in labor. Does your lower back hurt?”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “My lower back has hurt through the whole third trimester.”
“Sharp pain to your side? The strong desire to pace?”
Suddenly Darcy inhaled sharply and gripped her stomach as Landry Jr. brought Wade Faulkner, her husband, and Gavin Faulkner, the town doctor and Wade’s cousin, to her. “Darcy,” Gavin said after one quick look at her. “It’s time to get to the hospital.”
