He patted her hand resting on his forearm. “Not a big fan of Anastasia?”
Her blood red lips pursed to a tight pucker. “That woman caused my baby brother Bent more ache than twenty heart attacks. She was a train wreck when she lived in Colin’s Fancy, but what she did to that poor girl makes my stomach turn.”
“What do you mean? What did she do to Charlotte?”
“She denied her the opportunity to grow up with family who loved her. Stasi used Charlie as a weapon to wield against Bent rather than loving her the way a Momma should.”
“I thought Charlotte chose to stay with her mother.”
“She did. Not that the witch gave her much of a choice. When Charlie decided she wanted to live with Bent and Delia, she was twelve years old. Georgie was a baby, but she loved being a big sister. Charlie wanted to help Delia. She loved Dee like she was her own mother. I don’t know exactly what transpired between Charlie and Stasi when she went back to New York that Labor Day, but she was never allowed to spend the summer in South Carolina again. Not seeing his daughter nearly broke Bent, but I think the pain must have been worse for Charlie. She didn’t just lose her daddy, she lost the only woman who ever put her first. Delia was Charlie’s mother in all the ways that count. When Dee was diagnosed with cancer, Charlie would make secret trips to visit her at the hospital. Bent and Georgie never knew. I don’t know why Charlie wanted to keep it a secret, but she had her reasons. I’ve never told anyone. I only know because I happened to see Charlie leaving Delia’s room one Saturday afternoon and I asked Dee about it. She asked me to keep their secret, and I have until now.”
“And you don’t know why Stasi didn’t let Charlie move to South Carolina?”
“I would place money on meanness.”
“I don’t think I follow.”
“That woman is as mean and squirrely as a hungry, rabid dog cornered in a back alley. She’ll do anything. I think she revels in causing people pain. She loves to destroy. I’m surprised she didn’t come to Bent’s funeral and dance on his grave.”
“She sounds lovely.”
“I’m exaggerating, but not by much. I’m not surprised Charlotte is the way she is, rough and tight on the edges. She’s had to protect herself her entire life. An awful way to grow up. And now all this business about her car exploding. The poor thing just needs some love and care.”
“Savvy, you don’t think her mother had anything to do with her car, do you?” Mac’s stomach twisted at the thought.
“No…I don’t think so.” Savvy shook her head. “Stasi’s crazy. Vindictive. Meaner than a rattlesnake. But I don’t think she would intentionally harm her daughter, physically, I mean. The harm emotionally has already been done. And besides,” she said, clearly thinking about it. “What possible motive could she have to blow up her daughter’s car?”
15
Georgie sidled up to the right of Charlotte as her older sister directed a server toward a group of empty-handed guests. Sliding her arm through Charlotte’s she rested her head to her sister’s shoulder. “You do this very well. I was watching Savvy earlier tonight, and I can feel how impressed she is with you.”
Charlotte shrugged, effectively extricating herself from her sister’s embrace. “It’s not a big deal. Mama and Babushka threw parties of all sizes and arrangements. I was always in charge of the staff. Baba said it was because I could speak the best English, but in reality I think she was afraid my mother would scream until the servers scattered like mice.”
“Is your mother really that awful?” Georgie took in Charlotte’s stiffening shoulders. “I’m sorry. Savvy’s always telling me every thought in my head doesn’t need to be expressed through my lips.”
Charlotte turned and gave her a soft smile. “You’re fine. My mother is difficult, but she’s still my mother. You know the old adage, I can make fun of my family, but watch out if you do. I guess no matter what she does I’ll always be protective.”
Georgie brushed a non-existent hair from Charlotte’s shoulder. “I understand.” She turned toward the din of the party. “Savvy and Mellie really pulled another fabulous party together.”
“Yes,” Charlotte nodded. “Of course I’d have liked a vegetable that still held its nutritional qualities, but I can’t argue the food is tasty, if not healthy.”
“It’s Low Country cuisine. Nutritious is a relative term. Now delicious, that’s one we all can get on board with.”
Charlotte chuckled as she rested her shoulder against the wall.
“Are you tired? Is this all too much after your accident?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No. I really am fine, except for some bruises and a headache I can’t seem to shake.”
“You had us so worried. I can’t imagine how something like that could happen to your car. It’s practically new. Daddy said you should never trust foreign carmakers.”
“Georgie, almost every American car is made outside the U.S.A. Most ‘American’ cars are really Japanese.”
“Well, regardless. I can’t imagine how your car went boom.” Georgie watched her sister’s face, hoping to gain some semblance of a clue as to why the explosion happened, but Charlotte’s gaze was blank.
“I need to go check on some things. Would you mind following up with the two servers who’re supposed to be cycling through the library and the music room? I haven’t seen them in a little while.” Without waiting for an answer, Charlotte stalked toward the back of the house.
Georgie closed her eyes and leaned against the spot vacated by her sister.
“Hey, Slugger, did you strike out again?”
Without hesitating, she stepped into Mac’s wide embrace and let her surrogate big brother ease her ache.
“I stuck my foot in my big ol’ pie hole again.”
His chuckle vibrated against her ear. “Sounds painful. How’d you manage it?”
Stepping away from him, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I complimented her on how well she’s running the party and then out of the blue she started talking about how difficult her mom is. I may’ve offended her by saying her mom is awful, but then as I tried to shove my ankle out of my mouth, I tried to get her talking about the accident. And poof, she ran off in the opposite direction.”
“No wonder she ran away. She probably couldn’t understand a word you were saying what with your mouth full of ankle, foot, and toes.”
With a single eye roll, she sighed. “I’m so worried, Mac. Do you think someone is deliberately trying to hurt her? Cars just don’t blow up.”
He patted her head, making her feel twelve again and he was the starting catcher for the Bombers. “Georgie, I don’t fully know what’s going on. The sheriff called earlier –”
Wind whipped through the entryway, flittering Georgie’s skirt and snapping her attention to the front door, open wide to the brisk December night. Three guests, one woman and two men, stomped into the foyer. Money seemed to drip from them as they handed their coats to a waiting server.
Georgie bristled at their abrupt entrance. Not because they didn’t belong, but because they did. “I can’t believe she’s here.”
“Who’s ‘she’?” Mac whispered, matching Georgie’s tone.
“Anastasia. Stasi, Charlotte’s mother.”
~*~
Charlotte lifted a finger to her lips and let the chocolate sauce tingle her taste buds, soothing some of the rough spaces scratched throughout the evening. She should have told Georgie about her car, at least what she believed to be the whole story. She should have told her the reason the FBI showed up at their offices. About her mother’s gambling debts, the apparent money laundering, all of Remy’s discoveries. Georgie was her sister. She deserved to know. And Charlotte longed to share the burden. Sisters shared secrets and helped each other through difficult challenges. At least that’s what every movie, magazine article, and sappy holiday special had shouted at her for the last three decades. Charlotte desperately needed a sister at the moment, but all she had was a r
oommate. By necessity.
She couldn’t confide in Georgie, not completely. Not that Charlotte thought her sister would share any information that could put her in danger—or rather, more danger—but she was worried simple knowledge could place Georgie in harm’s way. She may not be experienced at being an older sibling, but she was responsible for protecting her little sister. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t put Georgie at risk. Instead she kept her at arm’s length, choosing to hurt her feelings than make her a bullseye for mental and physical pain.
The catering staff weaved in and out of the stacks of glasses, plates, and empty tureens, transforming the grand kitchen into cramped quarters. She scooted around two waiters and dropped onto the bench in the breakfast nook.
Charlotte desperately wanted to flash backwards six months or six years. She wanted to go back to before she knew about her mother’s activities, to go back to when she could let go of her need to seek her mother’s approval, when she could still hug her daddy and tell him she loved him. She sank deeper into the corner bench, gasping for air as the guilt growing with each day squeezed her heart. Tears burned wet paths down her cheeks, and she knew her thick mascara would darken the trail, but she couldn’t care anymore.
The last few months crashed around her with the force of a hurricane. She rested her head on her folded arms, and tried to block out the cacophony of dishes, plates, and servers swirling around her. But as much as she wanted to drown in waves of self-pity and regret, she had hostess duties. The horror of Savvy or Georgie tracking her down, or worse, Mac Taylor, and seeing her state of self-pity had her swiping at her cheeks.
Mac Taylor. Or rather, Francis MacAllister Taylor, Jr. confused and enthralled her. For weeks, he had been fighting her at every turn, reminding her she was the unwanted prodigal daughter. But if he didn’t want her here, why had he been so protective and supportive with the FBI? Pity? Regret? Misguided chivalry?
Regardless of his motives, she had gratefully hidden behind his shield. With all Remy had discovered, she couldn’t afford to be fully transparent with any law enforcement until she spoke with her mother, confirmed her suspicions or maybe, just maybe, found the errors in Remy’s logic and proved Mama’s innocence.
Hope burned in her belly. Swallowing against the lump lodged in her throat, she closed her eyes. Stasi was not one to be dealt with trivially. And hope very rarely held a legitimate chance in her mother’s orbit. Charlotte would need a clear plan and a full understanding of the implications surrounding her mother’s activities before she approached her.
Drawing a cleansing breath to fill her lungs with the tickle of cinnamon-laced oxygen, calm settled into her bones. Steady and fortified, she was ready to circulate and socialize. With determination she opened her eyelids, and her gaze locked with the inquisitive focus of her self-appointed protector. “Did Savvy send you?”
The corner of Mac’s mouth lifted in a soft grin. “Nope, Georgie. We had a few unexpected guests.” He slid his folded handkerchief across the table.
Matching his smile, she wiped her cheeks, leaving dark stains on the crisp white linen. “Sorry.”
“No worries, you keep it.”
Rolling her shoulders, she twisted the marred cotton in her hands. “Who’s throwing the balance off at the party? Don’t tell me. Special Agents Murphy and O’Neal showed up?”
“Yes, but I don’t consider them unexpected since Savvy invited them at the hospital while they were waiting for you to wake up.”
Her head fell softly to the side as a chill raced up her spine. “Who came uninvited, Mac?”
“Your mother arrived about five minutes ago flanked by two of the roughest looking gentlemen I’ve seen outside of a few roadhouses I went to when I was in the minors.”
Chills twisted into a wave of burning nausea. “Stasi’s here?” She couldn’t soften the quake in her voice.
He squeezed her clenched fist. “She can’t do anything to you, Charlie. She probably just wanted to check up on you after your accident.”
“How would she have known about the accident? I didn’t tell her, and I know Savvy wouldn’t call her even if she was on fire and Mama had the only bucket of water.” Scooting off of the bench, Charlotte shook her head. Her mother was here. Motherly concern was never the answer when Stasi was involved. The only logical reason was to finish the job.
16
The cackle of her mother’s laugh burned a laser strip through Charlotte’s body.
Draped in a sequin and crystal encrusted gown, a size too small for her curvaceous frame, Anastasia Bickford-Dixon-Mallory-Stenson-Shaw glittered like a neon light in Times Square. Mama liked to be the center of attention and clothing was one of her favorite spectacle driving methods.
Thankfully, Savvy had corralled Stasi to a corner in the blue salon, well away from the stares and gossip of the partygoers peppering the main floor of the house.
Charlotte slowed her pace. Mac was right about the two men with her. Every edge needed weeks of sanding. Sucking in a breath of cinnamon-scented strength, she stepped into the room. “Mama, what brings you to South Carolina?”
Stasi stood with her arms extended. “Malyshka! Let me look at you. I heard about your awful accident, and I had to see that you were OK.” She dragged Charlotte into her stiff-armed embrace.
“Mama,” Charlotte whispered. “How did you know about the accident?”
Stasi patted her back, sliding her long-nailed hand to Charlotte’s neck. “I know everything. Everything.” Stasi stepped back, softly brushed her fingertips across the thick bruise on Charlotte’s forehead, and kissed each of her cheeks with an Upper Eastside smile plastered across her lips.
“Where are you staying, Mama?”
“With you, of course. After all, I came to see you.”
“You know I’m staying in the guest house with Georgie. There’s not enough room.”
“Well, then certainly your aunt can find a little room for me.” She turned toward her former sister-in-law.
Savvy looked past Stasi and locked gazes with Charlotte. In the space of a heartbeat, her aunt’s solidarity washed over Charlotte.
“I’m so sorry, Anastasia, but it’s the holidays. You know how Colin’s Fancy gets overrun with house guests. We don’t have a single pillow or towel to spare. I’ll have Tori call the Butler Inn. I’m certain they’ll find a place for you and your…umm…associates to rest your heads for the evening. But, please be certain to get your fill of good, Low Country cuisine before you leave.”
Stasi’s face pinched and relaxed. “Well, it seems tonight is too full of other relatives to deal with your mother, Charlotte. I’ll be on my way. I wanted to ensure you were well. You look well enough. You will come to visit me tomorrow for tea, yes?”
Charlotte felt a solid hand squeeze her shoulder, and she gratefully relaxed into Mac’s seemingly omnipresent support. “Yes, Mama. I’ll see you for tea tomorrow. But as Savvy said, please enjoy some food. It’s been a long time since you’ve dined on Low Country delicacies. I’m sure some of this place holds fond memories for you.”
“Oh, Charlotte, you know the refined palate can’t appreciate this…cuisine.”
“Well, it’s your loss. Mellie’s okra is about the best thing I’ve had since I left Manhattan.”
“Hmpf.” Stasi leaned in to kiss her daughter. “We have much to discuss,” she whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “You shouldn’t have ignored the request. Closed the accounts. You are not in charge. Remember who is mama. Don’t think I didn’t notice the two FBI agents attending your aunt’s party. I would hate to think my blood is sharing stories outside of the family. Remember who you are.”
Charlotte tried to control the tremors even as they wracked her body. She touched her lips to her mother’s cheek. “Mama, I know. How could I forget?”
Stasi lifted a single eyebrow, her gaze reflecting a statement of force Charlotte had known since childhood. “Well, malyshka, we shall be off. I look forward to tea tomorrow.”
She flicked her gaze to Savvy. “So good to see you, Savannah dear. I see you are still enjoying the wealth and station of your younger brother even after his passing. Impressive, as always.”
“Mama, please don’t. Not here. Not now.” Charlotte pressed her mother’s shoulder, angling her toward the exit. “I will see you tomorrow.” Charlotte followed her mother and the woman’s two goons through the foyer to the front door.
Stasi twisted to kiss Charlotte’s cheek. “Tomorrow we shall celebrate the New Year and all of the possibilities. We have so much to catch up on, malyshka. So much. Do not be late.”
~*~
Cade popped a cheese straw in his mouth as he watched mother and daughter embrace at the front door. Charlotte’s body language screamed fear and Stasi’s answered with determined anger. He wondered what mother had whispered to daughter and why Charlotte seemed genuinely surprised by Stasi’s arrival.
The two goons with Stasi were well known associates of Anton Dorokhov. He recognized the two enforcers even without the not-so-subtle nudge from Dylan as the partners observed the mother-daughter reunion. Stasi coming to see Charlotte flanked by Dorokhov’s men was circumstantial evidence gold in the investigation and gave Cade one additional piece of leverage against Stasi.
Charlotte held onto the door as Stasi and her security detail disappeared the same way they entered. Her frame tremored, just barely noticeable, as Charlotte closed the door with care worthy of the finest set of crystal glasses. His mind must be playing tricks on him. Even bruised and nearly blown up, Charlotte Dixon seemed to be made of icy cold steel, and yet, she clearly seemed to fear her mother.
The din of the party had lowered to subtle whispers as all eyes and conversations had shifted to the exchange between mother and daughter. The crowd seemed to be waiting for a speech from Charlotte. The breaths of the party collectively held unwilling to miss what Charlotte would say about her mother’s unexpected arrival and equally dramatic exit.
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