by Nella Tyler
Gilda’s face was ashen, and her mouth had dropped open. “What?”
“That’s right. That woman… Gilda, I don’t know what kept you from running away. I really don’t.”
“I had nowhere to go,” she whispered. Cole thought his heart would break.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I should have thought before I said that. It’s not your fault. Nowhere close. I’ll just call her by her first name so we make this a bit more impersonal.
“Anyway, Mary and Scott were an item, and after you left him, I guess he became obsessed with getting you back. Mary didn’t appreciate this and so everything you’ve been sending to her, she’s been passing along to Scott and Beverly. That’s how they knew everything going on in your life.
“Mary wanted to cause trouble for you. She told Scott that you and I were together and that my family had money. She talked him into coming up here to strong arm you into giving some to him — and if you didn’t cooperate, to take Carson.
“Well, that’s what they did. Scott was hiding at Mary’s house the entire time she was sitting next to you at the motel, holding your hand.”
“What? Are you serious?” Gilda choked on her coffee and sat back on the sofa, trying to absorb all that Cole was telling her.
“That’s right. There was no way you could escape him. Between Mary and Beverly, the three of them were plotting against you the entire time. They just didn’t count on me, I guess.”
“So, is Scott at Mary’s now?” The betrayal was making Gilda feel ill.
“We’ll see. I’ve passed on the word, and the men I left behind are moving in. We’ll hear shortly.”
“So, why did you send Mama to jail?” Gilda was still confused.
“She was a party to the kidnapping, not to mention she sat right there and admitted to me that she had seduced Scott while he was still a teenager. So, I had her picked up and charged.”
She shook her head. “But then why did they let her go?”
He slapped his knee with his hand. “The judge said it was out of his jurisdiction and charges would have to be filed in Brownsboro. It’s her word against mine, and since what she told me is considered hearsay and not evidential because she hadn’t been yet read her rights, the whole thing got screwed up.
“It’s my fault, Gilda. I knew better, but I let my anger get ahead of my common sense. I’m so sorry, baby.”
She shook her head. “No, Cole, don’t say that. She’s a bad woman. She always has been. I don’t love her, Cole…not like a child should love their mother.
“I want her as far away from Carson and me as possible. If she goes back to Brownsboro and stays there, that’ll be good enough. I just don’t want any of them near me or my child. Children,” she corrected herself.
Cole grinned and hugged her. “I like the way you think, Mommy,” he said, deliberately choosing a different name for mother than Gilda used for her own.
“You should know that I had a talk with Beverly before we left town that day,” he told her. “I told her as long as we never saw her face or heard her voice, that I’d send her a monthly check.
“Not sure why she was stupid enough to screw that up, but maybe because she thought she could get more out of you. Either way, there’s no more money for her.
“You, obviously, won’t be talking to Mary again. As soon as the authorities find those two, they’ll sort out the charges and the threesome will be in trouble. Let them boil in their own stew. We aren’t offering a helping hand to them in any sense.”
Gilda nodded, her mind reeling with the events of the previous twenty-four hours. She got up.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?”
“I want to spend time with Carson. Besides, I need to tell him he’s having a new little brother or sister,” she smiled. Cole was glad to see she had bounced back from the horrors that had just unfolded.
As Gilda left to go down to the tenth, Cole’s phone buzzed. He answered, setting his coffee down as the voice informed him that his father had just died.
Chapter 34
The scenery swam by the car window and Gilda swallowed hard to fight off the nausea.
“You okay?” Cole asked, patting her leg. He could tell she was unusually quiet, even with Carson chattering excitedly.
She nodded and tried to smile, but he could read right through her words. “Isn’t this a bit early for morning sickness?”
She shrugged. “Tell the baby that,” she joked and tried to focus on the car mat and not the speeding vehicles or the flashing sunlight between the tall stands of trees alongside the roadway.
“Are you sure it’s the baby?” he inquired, concerned.
“I have no idea. I haven’t felt well for a couple of days now. Stomach.” Her brown eyes were moist, and he could tell she was uncomfortable.
Cole was concerned. “I think we should have you see someone.”
“No, no, not necessary. Just temporary,” she responded as levelly as she could, even though her stomach was anything but level.
Cole nodded, but he chewed his bottom lip and that definitely indicated worry. He would have to sort out things once they were settled.
His father had died in his sleep, and although he’d left a request to be cremated and his ashes scattered without ceremony, Cole felt it was only proper that they honor his memory, if symbolically only. While he and his father had been entirely different men, Cole believed in respecting your elders.
His father had owned a large estate in north of the city. It was from there that he had managed all of his businesses. He had regular meetings with managers he supervised, each of whom tended to a particular enterprise.
The estate was extensive and the managers didn’t mind coming to the spa-like atmosphere. If anything, it was a vacation as the senior Mr. Stephens was actually in charge and his managers only emissaries.
Now, it fell to Cole to step into his father’s shoes. He would have to meet with each of the managers to ascertain the status of each company and then familiarize himself with the accounting and overall business empire.
This meant giving up his career dream of being a police officer, but when he was being completely honest with himself, he knew police work was highly dangerous and for a family man, it could mean disaster.
He knew his military training would stand him in good stead in this new venture. There was a strong link between making good business decisions based on fact, logic, and prompt responses and the military discipline that called for the same strengths.
He also recognized that he truly was a family man now and that Gilda, Carson, and the new baby would need him. This would be yet another huge transition for Gilda — her small town roots had resurfaced and nearly strangled her with the betrayals of her mother, friend, and ex-husband.
Thus, when the call had come of his father’s death, Cole saw a silver lining in the fact that he could now persuade Gilda to leave the city and move with him north to the family estate: a chance to begin again.
“I meant to ask you if you checked with the department before we left to see if there’s any word on Scott or Mary?” Gilda’s face was concerned and there was a slight tremor in her voice.
“Yes, I did check, and no, sweetheart, not a word.”
Cole had taken off the private detail he’d hired to find the two. They’d gone deeply into hiding and would be tough to track.
Instead, he was tripling the security around the estate, known as The Pillars for the twenty two-story columns that formed the front façade of the brick mansion. In addition to the main house was a series of smaller cottages, one of which was where Mrs. Crutcher would live. Cole had plans for another and thought to bring them up now.
“I was thinking,” he began the conversation. “Doc Keeler has been sinking a bit since you left. I guess the girl who replaced you doesn’t fill in all the holes you did in covering for him. I happen to know he misses you considerably.”
Gilda frowned and nodded. “I know. It makes me feel so b
ad that I’m not there to look out for him anymore. He wasn’t doing so hot when I left.”
“So…” Cole picked up from the beginning of his conversation, “I was thinking that we might be able to help him out a bit and help ourselves at the same time. What if we were to invite him to come up to The Pillars and stay in one of the guest cottages? That way he’d have a rest from the regular routine of his job and we’d have a doctor handy in case any need arises. What do you think?” He looked toward her, hoping she’d approve.
“I think that’s a marvelous idea! Cole, you are such a sweetheart for thinking of him. Do you think he’d take us up on it?”
“Well, I’ve already put out a few feelers, and it seems he just might.”
Gilda’s head snapped around. “Do you mean to tell me you already had this planned without our talking about it first?” She was frowning a bit; she didn’t like the idea of her life being engineered.
“Well…” He winced, steeling for her disapproval.
“You did, didn’t you? I swear, Cole Stephens, you just get in and run everything, don’t you?” She pretended to be perturbed with him when actually, she was glad he’d intervened to give the doctor a break and she’d get to see him again.
“Forgive me?” he asked, scrunching his shoulders, but knowing she was just giving him a hard time.
“I guess. I can’t wait to see him again!” she admitted with delight in her voice. “I have to admit, I did come to think of him as a dad, you know?”
“I know you did. And, I know you miss that sort of input into your life…especially now,” Cole commented gently, trying to gauge her reaction. She seemed fine with it, nodding and turning to look out the car window, and then quickly back toward the floor. “We’re almost there,” he comforted her, patting her hand.
They left the highway and turned down the main street in town. By all appearances, it could have been any small town in middle America, with perhaps a bit of Colonial influence. The curbs needed painting, the shops had converted from shoes and barber shops to quaint touristy places, and there was grass growing up in the cracks of the sidewalks.
There was no sign of the immense wealth that skirted the town — and that was exactly the way the old money who lived there liked it. Old money has a marked appearance. It is aging and poorly matched, shaggy and ill-kempt. The very wealthy never flaunt or discuss money; it is simply acknowledged that they have it by their palatial homes and the help they employ to keep it maintained.
In some cases, their fortunes have disappeared over the years, frittered away by a gambling addiction or ill-advised investments that turned sour. Sometimes the source of the money — industry wide — simply dried up and the palatial homes became mausoleums for the living.
They slowly fell into disrepair, as did their occupants. Landscaping turned to mounds of weeds and swimming pools turned green and sprouted trees. The occupants were seen in public less and less because their clothing was soiled and outdated, their hair gray and needing styling. Occasionally, one might pass away and not be discovered for days or even weeks because their contact with the outside world had become almost non-existent.
Then there were those who were still old money, but who had the foresight to adapt to a changing economy. They diversified, and in doing so, lessened their exposure to a decline in the substantial income it took to maintain their lifestyles. They took care to cautiously sift through their connections, realigning with surviving empires and gradually ignoring the failing families. It was survival of the fittest at the top of the financial food chain.
Cole’s father had belonged to this latter group. His money had been there when he was born and when he became the caretaker, he’d had the foresight to diversify. It had come about more accidentally than intentionally; he was a broker of misfortune.
When there was a war or major disaster, his companies stood to profit. When a dictator was deposed, his companies conducted the human clearance sale and valuables such as arms and rare minerals or raw materials were sold to the highest bidder, regardless of their personal politics. George Stephens had been a pragmatist.
The Pillars’ grounds were extensive, gated, and under constant surveillance by not only dogs and cameras, but a team of armed guards who patrolled 24/7. George had been a collector of antiquities and art. His tastes were secondary to their investment value and each painting and rare sculpture was not on display, but carefully crated in a temperature-controlled room beneath the main house.
As they pulled up to the main gate, a guard exited a small building next to the drive and offered a salute of deference by touching the brim of his cap when Cole lowered the tinted window. The gates slowly swung wide, and Cole gently guided the car up the long, meandering drive past flowering bushes and fountains, peacocks and swans in ponds beneath mammoth shade trees. There was nothing of new money here; they may as well have been approaching Versailles.
Carson’s face was plastered to the window, having unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to his knees to get a better look. “Mommy, somebody very rich lives here, don’t they?” he asked, aware that the view out his window was nothing like anywhere he’d been before.
Cole answered on her behalf. “Someone who is rich in the most important things in life, Carson, including you. Do you know who lives here?”
“Who?” the child immediately countered.
“We do,” Cole answered him, smiling at Gilda who was equally awestruck. He lowered the windows so the air could circulate through the car and the water tippling down the fountains could add their musical sounds. Swans were flustered and fanned their wings against the pond surface, but they’d been clipped to prohibit taking flight.
“Really?” Carson’s voice was filled with wonder.
“You see that hill right there, Carson?” Cole asked, pointing to their left.
“Yup.”
“Well, over that hill and down the other side are the stables. Do you know what lives in a stable?”
“Baby Jesus?”
Cole laughed. “Well, he was born in one many years ago and a long way from here, but yes he was. In our stable, however, live horses. There’s one in particular, a small pony, who will be your very own.”
Carson shrieked in excitement. “Really? Does he bite?”
“No, no, son, he doesn’t bite. You can feed him apples, though. He loves apples.”
“Can I, Mommy?”
“Yes, Carson, you may, if you can find the apples to feed him.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Cole murmured and they turned the last corner so that the main house came into view.
“Oh, my,” she drew in her breath with awe. “That’s where we’re going to live?”
“Yes, ma’am, it surely is.”
Her eyes were suddenly spilling tears down her cheeks. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked, completely baffled.
“I don’t belong here, Cole. This is your side of the world. It’s not where I came from, and I don’t even belong in the kitchen here.”
“Stop that. We’ve already been through this conversation. You belong here as much as I do because you’re my wife. All the other wives came from other places, you know. None of them were born here.”
“Were you born here?” Carson piped up from the back.
“Yes, I was, Carson — in that room at the end with the arched window on top.”
Carson’s head was extended upward, craning to see the room indicated. “Wow…” he uttered as though seeing a historic site.
Cole pulled the car to a stop and the massive double front doors opened and a man in a suit emerged hurriedly to open Gilda’s door. “Ma’am,” he nodded and offered his hand to help her out.
She stepped outside the car, and the doorman was quick to close her door and open the rear for Carson, but he had already pushed his own handle on Cole’s side and hopped out. Without a backward look, he took off onto the green lawn and began running and twirling.
Cole looked at
Gilda, whose eyes teared up as they realized he’d not had the opportunity to run free before. Someone had always held his hand. They stood there a few minutes and let him run before she called him so they could go inside. She badly needed to lie down and use the bathroom; she was feeling quite green.
Once they entered the foyer, Gilda realized it would be some time before she could feel at home there. In fact, it would take time for her to even be able to navigate the many halls that led to various wings.
The primary portion of the house was built in a U-shape, a pool, patios, and gardens filling the courtyard the walls created. Here again, peacocks strolled and fountains with landscaped flowers and bushes were symmetrically placed, causing the eye to follow through the courtyard to the opened forests beyond.
In the distance, Gilda could see fenced green pasture with horses grazing. The effect was at once palatial and timeless, making her feel as though she should remove her shoes and carry them with her.
Cole was giving quiet orders to various staff who appeared and their luggage began entering, carried by what she supposed were footmen. They disappeared up one side of the sweeping double staircase. A man whom Cole addressed as Herbert was busily waving people about and then led Cole and Gilda through a pair of pocket doors into an enormous living room with fireplaces at either end. Although it was a warm day, they glowed cheerily.
Gilda went to remove her sweater, but Herbert was instantly at her elbow, helping her off with it and laying it gently over his arm. Carson was agog and particularly so when Herbert tried to remove his light jacket.
There was noise in the entryway, and Gilda looked up to see Mrs. Crutcher being ushered in, clutching her hat and handbag as one of the footmen tried to relieve her of them.
“Off with you!” she chided him, looking around herself as she came into the living room. “My God.”
Gilda laughed. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Crutcher? You don’t like it here?” she teased the older woman.
“It’s like a castle!”