Bombshell For The Black Sheep (Southern Secrets Book 3)
Page 15
He shot her a tired grin, barely enough wattage to even be called a grin. “Not much to say. This is where my color-outside-the-lines behavior catches up with me. I’d just as soon not have witnesses when the lawyer reads this letter from my father, but it seems I’m out of luck.”
“I’m sorry.”
Hartley shrugged. “It was my choice to go to Switzerland without telling anyone. It was my choice to borrow the money.”
“An incredibly large amount of money,” she pointed out.
“I thought you were on my side.”
She kissed his cheek. “I am. And if you want me with you at the lawyer’s office, I’ll ignore any strange looks I get from your family. But afterward, I really do need to talk to you.”
He frowned. “Why can’t we talk now?”
Why indeed? She poured herself a cup of orange juice, keeping her back to him as she opened and closed the fridge. “Because it’s three in the morning, and I’m not coherent at this hour. Come back to bed.”
He took her hand and whirled her around. “Is that an invitation?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and yawned. “As long as you won’t be insulted if I sleep through your manly moves.”
He scooped her up and carried her down the hall. “Challenge accepted.”
* * *
When Fiona awoke the next morning, Hartley was gone, but he had left a note on the pillow beside her.
Had several things to do before the meeting at the lawyer’s office. I’ll send a car for you around nine thirty. Text me if that’s a problem. When we’re done there, you and I can find someplace to talk.
You and I can find someplace to talk. Innocuous words for a conversation that would change her life. Her stomach threatened to act up again, but after a cup of hot tea and some preventative saltines, she felt better.
The dress she had worn to the funeral was getting too tight around the waist. Instead, she put on a pair of the nice black pants she had bought recently—the ones with the stretchy elastic waist—and topped them with a sober gray tunic that had three-quarter-length sleeves and decorative black buttons. The dressy top hit her midthigh and disguised her change of shape.
When she added strappy black sandals and black earrings, she looked entirely presentable for an extremely serious legal meeting. She still thought it was a mistake for her to be there.
They were friends and lovers. After she told him her news, even those designations would be gone. As much as she wanted to think everything was going to turn out okay, in her heart, she knew the truth.
Today would signal the end of her relationship with Hartley Tarleton.
When the driver dropped her off downtown, Hartley was waiting on the sidewalk to greet her. He had showered and shaved and was wearing a suit that was clearly hand tailored. The charcoal-gray fabric emphasized his wide shoulders and his trim waist.
He brushed a kiss against her cheek, but he was distracted.
“You doing okay?” she asked, squeezing his hand.
“I’ve been better. Let’s get this over with.”
If any of the Tarleton siblings and their spouses thought it odd for Fiona to be in attendance, they were too well-bred to show it. When Hartley and Fiona joined them in a beautiful reception area, the other four stood and the receptionist ushered them into the lawyer’s office.
Here, traditional furnishings reigned. Lots of leather and dark green, navy and burgundy. Was the palette intentional? Meant to impart gravity?
Fiona had always reacted strongly to color and light. Either positively or negatively, the response was a function of her calling.
Today, in this stuffy, overly formal setting, she felt as if the room was trying to smother her. Maybe Hartley felt the same way, because he looked like his tie was too tight, and he was having trouble breathing.
The lawyer wasted no time greeting them. When everyone was seated in a semicircle facing the large mahogany desk, he opened a legal-size folder and shuffled a few papers.
Jonathan leaned forward, frowning. “I don’t understand why we’re here. I’m my father’s executor. There hasn’t been time for the death certificate and other initial documents to work their way through the court. Tell us what’s going on. Please. What’s so urgent about this letter?”
The lawyer was late fifties, early sixties. He was polite, but not warm. His nod was brief. “As you’ve been told, Gerald Tarleton left a letter to be read in the event of his death. He filed it with my office six months ago. Though it is addressed to Hartley, Mr. Tarleton made it clear that you and your sister were to be here when the contents were revealed.”
Mazie frowned as well. “A little too cloak-and-dagger, don’t you think? It doesn’t sound like my father.”
The lawyer bristled. “I assure you, Ms. Vaughan...the letter is entirely legitimate.”
Hartley sighed audibly. “We all know what it’s going to say.” He shot the lawyer a cool stare. “Let’s get on with it.”
The man nodded. “Very well.” He opened a simple white envelope and extracted a single sheet of paper.
Fiona reached out and gripped Hartley’s right hand. His entire body was rigid. This public flogging was cruel, particularly since Jonathan and Hartley had finally begun to mend fences.
When the lawyer stood, she was forced to drag her attention away from Hartley.
The lawyer cleared his throat theatrically.
“My dearest son Hartley:
“If you are reading this letter, it means that I am gone. Though I was very angry with you for leaving and taking the money, in truth, I was angry with myself for my cowardice over the years. I told Jonathan I had written you out of the will, but I did not. I never did. More about that later.
“Some weeks after you disappeared, I discovered you had flown to Europe, and suddenly I understood what was happening in Switzerland. Not the specifics perhaps, but enough to realize that my secret was out.
“I owe all three of you my deepest apologies. I have no excuse other than the fact that I was scared and embarrassed, and I didn’t know what to say to all of you now that you were adults.
“I should have done the right thing years ago, but I avoided the pain and let time pass. Now Hartley has to be the one to explain everything.
“Please know that I adored your mother. Losing her nearly wrecked my entire life. I did what I thought I had to do, but I have often wondered if I did all of you a disservice.
“No father could be more proud of his children. Jonathan is the steady hand at the wheel. Hartley has the fire and enthusiasm that propels us all forward. And Mazie, my sweet Mazie, is the heart of the family.
“Whatever you decide about the Vermont situation is up to you. There is no moral high ground. Only regret and sadness.
“Hartley, I addressed this letter to you because I wanted to make absolutely sure you knew that you have never disappointed me. Ever. You have been impulsive at times, but I have come to believe that such impulsiveness is far more admirable than being stuck in endless indecision as I have been.
“Forgive me, son, for letting your brother think ill of you. When I look back at what has happened, I regret that most of all.
“Jonathan will handle the nuts and bolts of dividing the company and the estate. You will all three benefit equally from our collective hard work. Mazie and J.B. have the wonderful house in the historic district. Jonathan and Lisette are building their dream home. To you, Hartley, I leave the beach house. I pray that you will find a partner—a wife—to bring you peace and happiness and many children to carry on your passion for living boldly.
“My plea is that you keep the beach house in the family and that you fill it with joy and laughter and love.
“Goodbye, my dear ones. Please forgive your old father his transgressions and remember me with fondness.
“Much love to eac
h of you,
“Dad
“(aka Gerald Tarleton)”
* * *
When the lawyer finished reading and tucked the letter away, dead silence reigned for several moments. Hartley was pale, his gaze haunted. Jonathan’s grim expression masked a multitude of emotions. Poor Mazie wept bitterly.
The youngest Tarleton offspring wiped her face. “What money? What was he talking about?”
The lawyer stood. “I have another appointment. You’re welcome to talk this over here in my office. Stay as long as you like. Goodbye...”
When the man exited, Mazie repeated her question, looking from one brother to the other and back.
Hartley rolled to his feet and paced. “I stole a million bucks from Tarleton Shipping. Jonathan was pissed, and rightly so.”
Jonathan groaned audibly. “Damn it, Hartley.” His jaw worked. “Tell us what the hell Father was talking about.”
Mazie was pale now, too, and trembling. J.B. was none too happy to see his newly pregnant wife upset. “Jonathan is right,” he said. “We need to know.”
Fiona stood up beside the man who held her heart. She kissed his cheek. “It’s okay,” she said. “They can handle it.” Then she looked at Jonathan and Mazie. “He didn’t want to hurt you. He’s kept this terrible secret to himself to spare you pain.”
“Tell us now,” Jonathan said. “Please.”
Fiona nodded, giving the man she loved a reassuring smile. “It’s time, Hartley. Let it go.”
And so he did. For the next half hour, he talked as if he had been a monk under a vow of silence and finally released. He told them about the blackmail and the hush money and the blackmailer who turned out to be a feeble old man and a relative at that. Then he described the terrible tragedy that happened when they were one and two years old. And about their mother’s twin sister. And everything that transpired in the aftermath.
He gave an accounting of everywhere he had been and everything he had done in the past year. He told of the old man’s unexpected death and of settling a stranger’s estate. He explained that in a storage unit in North Charleston were cartons of family memorabilia none of them had ever seen.
The only thing he didn’t mention was how he and Fiona had met and the fact that nine months after that crazy wedding weekend, he had come home for a fleeting visit to tell his family everything. But he chickened out. And instead spent the night with Fiona.
When his incredible tale finally wound to a close, no one spoke for a couple of minutes. Fiona could see on their faces the struggle to accept that a huge part of their lives had been a lie. There were questions, of course. It was a lot to process. Shock made the task more difficult.
Mazie seemed dazed. “So our mother is not our mother...”
Hartley knelt at his sister’s feet and took her hands. “I’m so damned sorry, baby girl. You deserved better. We all did.”
She shook her head slowly. “But she did care for us while we were growing up.”
“I know she did,” Hartley admitted. “You have to think, though, she could have injured any one of us or herself there at the end, before Father sent her away. Maybe if she’d had better doctors and treatments early in her life... I don’t know. That’s why I—”
He stopped suddenly, perhaps realizing at the last moment the insensitivity of explaining to his pregnant sister that he had vowed never to father any biological children of his own.
Jonathan put a hand on Hartley’s shoulder, urging him to his feet. When they were eye to eye, Jonathan uttered words that weren’t entirely steady. “I’m sorry, Hartley. God knows I can’t ever make this up to you. I should have known. I should have trusted you.”
Hartley’s face finally lightened. “Hell, Jonathan, even Fiona pointed out to me that expecting blind faith from all of you, given the circumstances, was a lot to ask. I’m ready to be done with this. It’s consumed over a year of my life. I just want to get back to normal.”
Jonathan hugged him tightly. For a long time. When they separated, both men’s eyes were suspiciously bright. Jonathan nodded slowly. “I want that, too. This has been an awful day. We’re going to be dealing with this for a long time, each in our own way. But we’re family. We’ll get through it.”
Mazie stood up to join her brothers, the three of them standing arm in arm. She kissed each man on the cheek and gave both of them a brilliant smile. “I hated knowing the two of you were at odds. I’m so, so grateful I don’t have to watch you both being weird anymore.”
The laughter that followed smoothed some of the rough edges in the room. High emotions demanded a break, a way to let off steam after the intensity they had shared.
Lisette joined her husband and addressed the group. “You all know that Jonathan and I are still staying at the beach house for now. Why don’t we have a cookout on the beach tonight? Hot dogs, roasted marshmallows. We can watch the stars come out. What do you say?”
There was a resounding yes from almost everyone.
Fiona, on the other hand, was painfully aware that her hard times were just beginning. “It sounds wonderful,” she said. “I’ll come if I can, but I have a couple of things in the works. I’ll have to let you know later today.”
Mazie was visibly disappointed. “But you’ll be at my birthday party, surely.”
“I’ll do my best.”
If her equivocation confused Hartley, he didn’t show it. He hugged each member of his family one at a time and then sighed. “Tonight sounds great. But I think we all need time to debrief between now and then. Fiona and I will see you later.”
In the general exodus that followed, Fiona didn’t correct his assurance. Sooner or later, Hartley’s family would realize that he and Fiona had ended their relationship.
Outside in the parking lot, he stretched his neck and loosened his tie. “I’m shot, but I promised you we’d talk, darlin’. Where do you want to go?”
And there it was. The question of the day. She was torn between a need for privacy and the idea that a public place might serve to quell the worst of the storm.
She glanced at her watch. “I think we’re late enough to miss most of the lunch crowd. What about that new little place over near Hyman’s? I hear they’re giving the big kid on the block a run for its money. They have conch fritters I’ve been wanting to try. And the booths are comfy.” Perhaps she was overselling it.
“Sounds good to me.” He took off his jacket and tossed it in the back seat of the car. Then he rolled up his sleeves. To Fiona it almost seemed as if he were shedding all the stress and pain and sorrow of the last months. How could she send him back to the depths again?
But how could she continue to lie to the man by omission? How could she not tell him he had fathered a child?
The restaurant’s customers, as predicted, had thinned out. Fiona asked for a quiet booth. The hostess took her at her word and seated them in a tight corner in the back of the second floor. When Hartley excused himself to go to the men’s room, Fiona slipped the server a twenty and asked the young man to leave them alone once the food came.
Perhaps her face revealed more than she knew. The kid nodded vigorously. “I won’t come by at all, unless you wave your glass and want more tea.”
“Thanks,” Fiona said.
In the end, the food was amazing. It lived up to all the hype and then some. Hartley devoured a platter of clams and oysters and an enormous salad. Fiona nibbled at her fritters and pretended to eat a bowl of seafood bisque.
She was so nervous she was sweating, despite the efficient AC.
As the minutes passed, Hartley’s mood rebounded exponentially. “God, I’m glad that’s over. Could have been a lot worse.”
He took her hand, lifted it and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you, Fee. You saved my life in there.”
His crooked male grin was sweet and sexy and affectionate.
She loved him so much it was tearing her apart. She had to change his mind. She had to.
As promised, the server had left them alone while they ate. But time was running out. Fiona and Hartley couldn’t sit here all afternoon. After a second drink refill and a puzzled frown from the server, Fiona waved him away with an apologetic smile.
Hartley yawned and stretched out his legs under the table. “One of us was up early,” he teased.
“You could have waked me to say goodbye.”
“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “If you’d been awake, I wouldn’t have been able to resist making love to you.”
His intense stare unnerved her. She knew exactly what he meant. The two of them were like magnets, unable to occupy the same space without touching. “True...” She trailed off, literally sick with nerves.
Hartley stroked the back of her hand. “What did you want to talk about, Fiona? Are you finally going to give in and let me sleep on your sofa?”
When she didn’t smile at his joke, he cocked his head. “Fee?” He frowned. “What is it? Why are you so upset? Whatever it is, I’ll help you fix it.”
Her lower jaw trembled so hard her teeth chattered. “I’m pregnant, Hartley. I’m sorry. It must have been that day you came back from Europe unexpectedly. We were kind of crazy for twenty-four hours. I guess we weren’t careful one of those times, or maybe a condom broke. Nothing is a hundred percent. I know you—”
She ground to a halt abruptly, mortified to realize she was babbling.
Hartley hadn’t said a word. He was looking at her, but his eyes were blank, his body frozen.
“Say something,” she pleaded. “Please.”
Every ounce of color drained from his face. She knew her timing was terrible, but she had waited and waited and then the stupid lawyer letter had come. Putting her confession off for a day or a week or a month wasn’t going to make this any easier.