by Melody Anne
“How do you know?” the girl asked, and she paused briefly in thought. “Why do bad things happen at Christmastime if all the good things about it are so real?”
“Ah, baby, the world is far from perfect, and sometimes bad things happen because people make wrong choices. And sometimes bad things happen even to good people, and we’ll never know why. There’s a divine plan. But good things happen too, and that’s the magic and the hope that we hold out for.”
“I want to believe that,” Ally whispered.
“It’s okay to feel happy, baby girl.”
“But Brayden says that if I feel happy, then I’m forgetting Mom and Dad,” Ally said, a tear falling down her cheek.
“That’s not true, Ally. I loved your mother and father more than anyone else in the world besides you and your brother. And I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt — it would break their hearts to know you were sad. They were never happier than when you and your brother smiled.”
“But if we keep on living and are happy, we’ll forget about all the time we had with them,” the little girl said, sounding so much older than seven years old.
“Don’t think that. Of course we keep living and we continue to build memories, but we never forget all the time we had with them before they were taken … far too soon. That’s why we keep pictures, and, even better, we lock images of them in our minds and our hearts.”
“I’ll try, Aunt Whitney,” Ally said. “For you.”
“I want you to try for yourself, too.”
After that, they lost themselves in mixing and baking. When the smell of the cookies didn’t bring Brayden out of his bedroom, Whitney decided it was time to face him again.
The boy was lying on his bed with his headphones cranked up so loud she could hear the thumping of the bass from the doorway. Sighing to herself, she stepped into the room and sank down onto his bed. He tensed, but didn’t turn off his music or acknowledge her presence.
Whitney waited. She knew he would switch it off in a little while; he was simply making sure she knew he was still in a brutal mood. She was way in over her head with the two kids, but she had always felt that the sun and moon rose on the two of them. After a few minutes, he did shut down his iPod and remove the headphones, but he still refused to look at her.
“I know how angry you are with the world right now, Brayden. I also know things haven’t been fair for you or your sister. But it’s almost Christmas and for your sister’s sake we need to make it as special as possible.”
“What’s the point? Mom and Dad are gone. Why should we celebrate anything anymore?”
“I would trade my very life for them to be here with you,” she told him in all honesty. “But they are gone, and now we have to live our lives so they can look down on us and feel proud.”
“I wouldn’t want you gone, Aunt Whitney. I love you, I just miss them so much it hurts.”
She had to pull him into her arms — she couldn’t help herself. He let her hold him without resisting, but she knew that wouldn’t last long.
“I love you, too, Brayden. I wish we could all be together, but sometimes we have to work with what we’re given. For now, we really need to do whatever we can to protect Ally.”
“I know. I’m just so mad all of the time,” he told her in a rare moment of weakness. “But I really am sorry.”
“Can you come downstairs and join your sister and me?”
“Okay,” he mumbled.
For the rest of the evening, there were no more problems, but Whitney wasn’t foolish enough to believe the rough days were over. No. If anything, they were only just beginning.
Chapter Two
Is this true?”
“Yes, sir. The letter came in today. It was verified. Your son’s attorney sent it to you, and we’ve checked the death records. Vincent and the woman he married after he moved away from here, died at the same time. The instructions were for the letter to be delivered one year from the time of his death. I’m so sorry for you loss, sir.”
“Why a year?”
“In his last will and testament, he states that in the event that he and his wife die at the same time, his wife’s sister, a Miss Whitney Steele, will gain full custody of the children. He instructed his lawyer in writing that he didn’t want you or your other son notified for a full year. He hoped that you’d have less chance of contesting the will.”
Frederick Felton was heartbroken that his older son had still thought his father so horrible a person, even after all these years. But why wouldn’t he? When Vincent left home, Frederick had been a different man. Not a good man at all.
“I … this can’t be,” Frederick finally gasped as the words began to sink in more and more, and he leaned back into his chair and held his face in his hands. “We were supposed to have more time. Time to make everything right.”
“Would you like for me to call Liam in here?” his assistant asked.
“Yes. Please do.”
He was grateful when his assistant walked from the room. Frederick could barely speak.
He’d begotten two sons, and when their mother died twelve years earlier, his oldest child, Vince, had left home, saying that his father was too cold and too stubborn, and that he was the reason his mother had taken her own life. Vince hadn’t returned.
It had made Frederick look in the mirror, and he hadn’t liked the man he saw. From that moment on, he’d made changes to become a better man. He’d always thought he’d have another chance — a chance for him and his son to rebuild what was broken.
That dream was now lost. Now, his son would never know all that his dad had done to improve himself, to become a worthy father. And because of that, he wouldn’t get to apologize the way he needed to. To make things right.
If ever he’d felt broken, now was that time.
“Father? What’s wrong?”
Frederick answered through a tight throat. “I have some bad news.”
“You pulled me from a business meeting and I have a lot of work to do, Father. Maybe you should just spit it out,” Liam told him.
Frederick was filled with even more despair. Even though Liam hadn’t left, he also resented his father and had now turned into the man that Frederick had once been — driven, angry, short with others, and with his heart locked away. He was unwilling to let anyone in.
“I’ve messed up so many times in my life, Liam, and I’m sorry about that. I should have been more of a parent, should have shown you more love …”
“Father, I really don’t have time for this,” Liam said as he began moving toward the door.
“Sit down!” Frederick thundered. But he spoke more evenly when he next opened his mouth. “Your brother is gone.”
Liam was quiet for several moments. “I know he’s gone. He left twelve years ago.”
“I mean that he’s died. He had a wife, and she died too.”
Liam’s eyes widened for a moment before his expression blanked. “How did you find out?”
“We received a letter from him.”
“That makes no sense, Father.”
“Let me show you, son.”
Neither of them spoke for several tense moments as Frederick pulled out the letter and laid it on the desk. Then Liam came forward, snatched up the letter, and quickly scanned the one-page note.
When he set the paper down, he displayed the same shock on his face as his father had not too long before.
“Do you think this is true?” Liam asked “That this really is from him? It can’t be …” But he knew he was grasping.
“Yes, son, the letter has been verified. And all the details.”
“Then we need to find the children!” Liam was forceful in his words.
“This is the reason your brother didn’t want the letter delivered for a full year after his death. He didn’t want us storming in and uprooting them from their lives.” Frederick looked with sorrow at his surviving son.
“They are family. They should be raised here,” Liam insisted.
> “Your brother clearly states in the letter that they will be raised by his wife’s sister if he and his wife should die together. He had an iron-clad will in place.”
Yes, Frederick knew he could get around a will. When a man had as much money as he had, there was almost nothing he couldn’t obtain. He was only saying the words to see his son’s reaction. And because he was a new man and he wouldn’t go against his eldest son’s wishes.
“We both know that will means nothing. This aunt of theirs can’t possibly be able to take care of these children. She has no idea who they really are.” Liam almost sneered. “Or maybe she knows exactly who they are and is waiting for payday.”
“I want to meet them, my son. I’m an old man, and my time is running out.”
“You’re only sixty-two. Your time probably won’t run out until long after mine does. We both know very well that you play the sick card whenever you want to get your way.”
“Nonsense.”
Liam actually rolled his eyes. “It won’t work on me now, Father. But I do agree. We need to see Vincent’s children.”
“We’ll bring them here, meet them, and make sure they know their ancestry and their importance,” Frederick told Liam.
“Good.”
When Liam walked from the room, his father leaned back. His heart was both shattered and full of joy. Though one of his sons had been taken from this world while still young, Frederick now knew that he had two grandchildren, and with that knowledge, a new hope was blossoming.
Chapter Three
The insistent knock on the front door made Whitney’s hand fling out, and the flour that flew up coated her already disheveled hair and blurred her vision.
“Dammit!”
After lurching over to the sink, she scrabbled around until she found the washcloth and turned on the water as she tried to regain her sight. Just then, another knock sounded at the door, this one even more forceful than before.
“Most likely a bill collector,” she almost growled. She tossed down the washcloth and made the short trek to the front of the house just as the oven timer started buzzing. Was bad timing the story of her life? Oh, well. She was sure whoever was at the door wouldn’t take too long.
The shocked gaze from the stranger now confronting her reminded her that she must not look her best. But who cared? No one in this whole universe would call her a high-level homemaker, but at least with flour in her hair it appeared as if she were trying. If it was another visit from social services, maybe they wouldn’t threaten to take the kids away again.
But as her vision began to clear, she gazed at the man’s features. There was no way this man was either a bill collector or a worker for social services. No freaking way.
He was tall, at least three inches above six feet, with dark hair, blue eyes, and high cheekbones that looked as if they’d been sculpted from clay. Damn!
She hadn’t felt this stirring in her gut in a long time. And it was in no way welcome. Just because a good-looking man — well, to be fair, a great looking man — was standing on her doorstep, it didn’t mean she had to go all weak in the knees.
And she wouldn’t.
How could she, anyway? The guy didn’t look happy. His jaw was clenched and his lips couldn’t have been pressed together any tighter if they’d been sewn shut.
“Are you Whitney Steele?”
Should she deny it?
The well-dressed man spoke with an accent she couldn’t place. This didn’t bode well, and the situation was growing weirder by the moment.
“Yes.” Her tone of voice clearly told him to make it quick.
“If you have a moment, Ms. Steele, I need to speak with you about something important.” The stranger seemed absurdly formal, but what else should she have expected from a guy in a suit like that?
“I don’t know you, so to say you have something important to talk to me about makes no sense. Besides, I’m baking right now,” Whitney said. Her cookies were probably burning already.
He ignored her words and kept speaking. “I’m here on behalf of Frederick Felton, the paternal grandfather of your niece and nephew. He’s greatly grieved to learn of the passing of his son, and he wishes to see his grandchildren.”
Whitney looked at the man for several heartbeats. What in the world was he talking about?
“Is this some kind of a joke? Because if it is, I don’t think it’s very funny. My niece and nephew have been through hell this last year, and they don’t need to go through anything else. I know for a fact that they have no other family. My brother-in-law said all his immediate family members were deceased.”
“I can assure you, Ms. Steele, that the children’s grandfather is alive.”
Her oven timer continued to buzz, and she was torn. Should she simply slam the door in the man’s face and go back to her baking, or invite him in? He certainly didn’t look like a pathological rapist. So good manners — and curiosity — won out.
“Step inside, please. I need to take care of that timer.” She turned toward the kitchen just as smoke began filling the air. Another batch of cookies wasted, dammit, she couldn’t afford this! She turned back toward the man. “I’m sorry, but did you already give me your name?”
“No, I haven’t,” he said coolly and confidently.
Something in his eyes told her this man wielded power like most people wielded forks and butter knives.
“As I’ve invited you into my home and you’re spouting off what you seem to think of as good information, then the least you can do is give me your name,” she told him.
“I’m Liam Felton.”
“And …” Dealing with this man was slow and painful, like removing nails from a board.
“I’m the children’s uncle. I very much want to know them too.”
Whitney wanted to blast him with a brutally mocking remark, but she held herself back. “If you want to continue this conversation, you’ll have to follow me.” With that, she made her way to the kitchen to pull out the blackened cookies and switch on the oven fan. Once that was done, she turned back to the man who had followed her reluctantly.
“Ms. Steele, my time is valuable. I would appreciate your full attention,” Mr. Felton informed her.
“And do you think my time is any less valuable?” she asked incredulously.
He looked away before meeting her gaze again. Of course he thought that, but he was smart enough not to say it.
“I’m sorry to be so direct. It’s just that my father and I were unaware of the children until just a few days ago. We were quite devastated to learn of Vincent’s death, but elated to learn of the children. As I’ve said, we’d both very much like to meet them.”
Whitney stared at the man for several more moments and decided that he seemed to be speaking the truth.
“Why would I want to take my niece and nephew to meet a man their father obviously didn’t want them to know?”
That seemed to throw this man off.
“I’m sure it’s nothing more than a family misunderstanding, one that can be worked out if we all meet in person,” Liam said after a brief silence.
“Where does your father live, anyway?” she asked as she pulled out a chair at the kitchen island and sat down.
Liam stood there stiffly. She didn’t offer him a seat. Hell, she didn’t want him staying long.
“He resides in New York state.”
“That’s all the way across the country, Mr. Felton.”
“It’s hardly across the planet, Ms. Steele — just a simple ride on a private jet.”
“Private jet? Are you kidding me?”
“My father would only provide the best and most comfortable method of travel for his grandchildren.”
“So, you are those kind of people,” she stated.
This again stopped the man for a moment. “What do you mean by that?”
“The type of people who buy others,” she said, feeling that she was perfectly clear.
“Are you calling me a
snob without knowing anything about me?” he asked, taking a step closer to her.
She immediately wanted to step back, feeling suddenly nervous around this man. He wasn’t the type of person she normally spoke to, let alone had an intimate conversation with in her own kitchen which was less than the cleanest at the moment.
“You’re wearing what I’m sure is a suit that cost more than my car. I’m just calling it as I see fit.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a smile that made it to his eyes. “Which means that I’m very certain of myself, and I always get what I want.”
Whitney was so stunned by his words, she didn’t know what to say. She was pretty sure she’d just been threatened, but he’d done it so smoothly, she wasn’t exactly certain of it. How did she reply to that? She wasn’t exactly sure.
She took a deep breath before speaking again.
“I’m sure you have good intentions, but seriously, there’s no way I’m taking these kids across the country to see some man they’ve never even heard of. For all I know it could be a trap.”
“I can assure you there is nothing underhanded going on. I have some information here on our family for you to peruse. It proves our relationship with Vincent. And, of course, you would be our guests and wouldn’t be forced to stay against your will.”
“I still don’t think we’re going to be taking any trips. Why doesn’t your father just come here himself if he’s so anxious to meet the children?”
“My father doesn’t travel much these days.”
“The children are in school, Mr. Felton. I can’t just uproot them,” she said with frustration. This man didn’t easily take no for an answer.
“We’ve already contacted the school, and we have private tutors on standby. The children could complete their lessons while visiting.”
“You contacted the school? That was a bit forward, don’t you think?” Whitney wanted to scream, but she somehow managed to keep her tone calm. How did this guy pull that off? Oh, of course. The school administrators took one look at that fancy suit and salivated. Potential donations.
“We didn’t want you to have any concerns about this visit of theirs. This is very important to us,” he said before leaning forward, his eyes intense. She suddenly found herself finding it difficult to breathe. “I will not return to New York without the children.”