“I knew your mother her whole life,” Mosley began, then fell silent again. He was dressed to work today: a crisp white shirt and navy Brooks Brothers suit. This attire seemed to require more than his usual waistband adjustment. As the silence stretched, he tugged at his cuffs and picked invisible specks off his sleeves. Grace noticed there were new hearing aids behind both ears and wondered how he was dealing with the loss of one of his delaying tactics.
When she couldn’t stand his dithering any longer, she said, “You may want to cancel Stark and Connie. We’re not doing anything until you answer my questions. Why did Emma send you to my mother? Did you go? If so, what transpired when you saw her?”
“Good. Good, tight questions. I was curious, of course, when I learned you were an attorney. I checked you out in the official channels, Martindale Hubbard and all that. I also called some associates who are in your neck of the woods. For a young attorney, you have an excellent reputation. I know your mother was proud of you. Your grandmother was, too. Shame she never got to tell you.”
Grace felt the impact of his words, and decided that while Mosley might not be at the top of his game, he was still crafty enough to tangle her up if she wasn’t careful. She wondered if Chief McNamara had the same trouble questioning him. She put Mosley in a mental witness box and tried again. “Did you see, or talk, or in any way communicate with my mother in the weeks before her death?”
He rose and walked to the windows overlooking Washington Street before saying, “In late January, Emma asked me to call Julia. She knew Julia and I kept in touch, distantly, of course, but still.” He glanced over his shoulder at Grace. “If you didn’t know, it’s not because I wanted it to be a secret. Your mother insisted. You won’t like the rest of this, but it isn’t privileged, if you want to hear.”
“All of it.”
“All of it,” he repeated. “I don’t think so. How about if I tell you what your mother wanted you to know?”
Stunned, she watched as Mosley crossed back to his desk, opened the bottom left drawer and withdrew an envelope. Grace hated that her hands shook as she opened it. “What is this?” She glanced at the two sheets of paper and then rechecked the empty envelope.
“Your mother wanted you to have your original birth certificate and the court order changing your last name to Reagan.”
Grace felt frozen in place, afraid to read the words to see if what he was saying were true.
“My dear, your birth name was Delaney. Your parents weren’t married. Julia didn’t feel you needed to know. Then she couldn’t find the right time to tell you, and then when she got sick … well.”
“Well, what?” The inertia snapped and now she wanted to strangle him. Strangle somebody. The somebody who had kept the secrets. Why would her mother have thought Grace would care that she was born out of wedlock? The answer came at once: she wouldn’t. She had to have been hiding something else.
“Julia believed she’d have more time,” Cyrus was saying. “When she realized she didn’t, she didn’t want to spend the few days she had left shattering your relationship. She said she knew you would find out sooner or later and she wanted me to handle the situation.”
“She trusted you.” But not me — the unspoken words hung in the air.
If Mosley took offense, he didn’t show it. “Many people do, my dear.”
“You kept this from me! That’s unconscionable! It’s, it’s… malpractice!” She was on her feet and waving the papers in his face. “You’ve had this information for seven months with instructions from my mother, your client, to give it to me and you waited all this time. What else, Mosley? What else haven’t you told me? Keep anything else from me and you’ll be sorry. I’ll tie you up in court until your last day on earth and beyond.” She stopped abruptly when she realized he was grinning broadly.
“My God, it’s like a visit from Emma herself,” he laughed.
Grace stood still and tried not to explode. It took all the self-control she had to speak to him in a civil tone. “Let’s try this again. And make no mistake, I will sue you for malpractice if you don’t have a damn good reason for what you’ve done.”
“Oh, my dear,” he wiped his eyes. “The only mistakes I have ever made all involved Delaneys.” He sat heavily, sinking back into the swivel chair, rocking it. After a moment, he said, “As I told you, on Emma’s instructions, I located your mother and called her. She agreed to meet me and gave me the address of her new apartment.”
Grace felt her heart drop. Her mother had stubbornly refused to admit she was dying, referring to her last residence as her ‘new apartment’. Friends didn’t know until they arrived at the small complex of cottages near Sibley Memorial Hospital that Julia’s new home was a hospice. Mosley had just given her proof that he had, indeed, talked with her mother less than a month before her death.
“I saw Julia straight away and, of course, learned what was happening. Julia said she was having a good day, but…” Mosley’s voice trailed off.
“Go on!” Grace demanded, unwilling to give him any sympathy. “What did you talk about?”
“Emma wanted me to tell Julia everything - especially that the house had been sold and Julia should bring you and come home one last time. Of course, Emma and I didn’t know you were the buyer.”
As Mosley’s words sank in, Grace tried to take in enough air. She slowed her breathing and willed herself to calm down. Mosley looked exhausted, and she reminded herself of his age.
“Did Mom tell you we owned Delaney House?”
“No. She might have, but I preempted that conversation when I told her about Emma’s health.”
“So you told Mom her mother was dying, and then you had to tell Emma her daughter was dying?”
“Yes.”
Anger still churned through her, but Mosley was looking less and less like the villain. She might have felt sorry for him, but the feeling was too awkward, the gulf too wide. She managed a choked, “She didn’t tell me.”
“I assumed as much. I’m afraid I’ve never understood any of you Delaneys, so I can’t explain why you all don’t just talk to each other. Emma and I kept a check on you and Julia over the years, of course. We knew where you lived, but in later years, unfortunately, not what was happening in your lives. It was more peaceful that way.”
“But why?” Grace still couldn’t grasp the enormity of what the two women had hidden from her.
“Emma and Julia were never good together as adults. One was always wanting to help, the other refusing to accept. All too often I was in the middle. But you know about that, don’t you? It’s a lawyer’s lot in life, being in the middle.”
And the middle was usually where the truth lay, Grace thought.
“I did my best by each of them, gave them the last gift I could,” Mosley said. “And I promised Julia when the time was right, I’d tell you about your father.”
Grace unfolded the papers again and looked at her birth certificate. At the empty space next to ‘Father’.
“I’m listening,” she said.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“There is no Jonathon Reagan, my dear. Your mother took her grandmother’s maiden name when she left Mallard Bay. She reasoned if she invented a bland version of a father and put him and his non-existent family out of your reach, you would be less likely to go searching for the truth. She also wanted a clean break from the Delaneys.”
“She wanted a clean break, except from the trust funds.” Grace tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“You Delaneys have a streak of pride a mile wide, but you all — every one of you — goes after what you believe is yours.”
“What we believe is ours?”
Mosley waved her question away. “Your mother was very young, emotionally, when she went to college. I imagine she was a bit intoxicated with the sudden freedom from Emma’s hovering. She did well academically and she made a lot of friends, had a good time.”
“And got pregnant.”
“Yes. It wasn’t a serious relationship, and she and the young man had a falling out. He turned out not to be the sort she wanted in her life or yours, so she cut him out.”
“She did a lot of that, it seems,” Grace couldn’t sit still any longer. She rose and paced the length of Mosley’s office. The information he’d thrown at her sat in a lump near her heart, unfathomable yet perfectly clear. So many questions answered. When she could trust her voice again, she stopped and faced him. “Tell me the rest. What else do you know?”
“I don’t know his name; I give you my word.” Mosley took his handkerchief out again and wiped his eyes, making no attempt to disguise his emotions. When he leaned back in his chair and tugged at his waistband, Grace felt relieved. The lawyer was back.
“But you know why she didn’t tell me.”
“The boy questioned Julia’s assertion that he was the father. Your mother never wanted him to have the opportunity to say those words to you. She told me not to give you that,” he gestured to the envelope, “unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“Absolutely necessary in your opinion? Well, you seem to think it’s necessary now. Why?”
“Your Uncle Stark is very angry. I hoped it would fade in time, but now I’m not sure. He and Connie are disappointed, to say the least, in how little they received when Emma’s will was settled. I’m afraid the price you paid for the house was the last straw. I’ve tried to explain that given the market and the condition of the house it was the best we could do, but they’ve never been sensible about money. It was bad enough when they believed Emma had taken a stranger’s best offer. When they found out you were the buyer, they felt they’d been cheated.”
Grace remembered Stark’s angry face and the bitter words he’d flung at her across Niki’s dinner table. “So you’re beating him to it by telling me there is no Jonathon Reagan? Stark said I should ask you about my mother. He said you had all the answers. Is this what he meant?”
Mosley looked nonplussed for a moment. “No. Both Emma and Julia told him the same story they gave the rest of the world.”
“The rest of the world and me.”
“Yes. They thought it best. Stark has always been suspicious, and in the absence of the truth, a wounded person will fill in the blanks with the worst-case scenario. I’m afraid Stark believes Julia and I encouraged Emma to accept your offer when she could have gotten a higher price.”
“Did you?”
Until today, she’d thought her purchase of Delaney House had been a surprise to her mother, now she wouldn’t put anything past Julia and Mosley. Keep moving, Grace. Don’t rely on anyone else. Take charge. Her mother’s voice was as clear as if she stood in Mosley’s office.
“No,” Mosley sighed. “But it’s easy to see why Stark would think so. Julia was always my favorite. Stark was resentful of my friendship with the family. Thought I was usurping his father’s place.”
Grace tried to see Stark’s point of view. “And by accepting my offer…”
“Your below market offer,” Mosley added.
Grace rolled her eyes, but let the comment pass. “You gave me the house and returned half the purchase price to me through my mother’s will.”
Mosley nodded. “He won’t listen to reason. Stark told me you were asking about your father. If you keep on, he may eventually tell you his version of things and it won’t be kind to your mother.”
“Why? What does he know that you aren’t telling me?”
“Who can say what Stark thinks he knows? What he doesn’t know is what I’ve told you. Your uncle doesn’t know the truth.”
She had to get out of Mosley’s office and into the fresh air. The elegant room with its expensive furnishings was closing in on her. She started for the door just as it opened and the gum-snapping secretary announced Stark and Connie’s arrival.
Grace cut off Mosley’s response. “Could we have a minute, please?” she asked. When the door shut again, she turned back to Mosley. “You said you gave both Emma and my mother the last gift you could. What did you mean?”
Mosley seemed surprised by the question. “My dear, I’d have thought that was obvious. I promised both of them I would take care of you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mosley kept up a running stream of innocuous chatter with Connie while fresh coffee was brought in. Grace used the time to pull herself together.
“Are you well, Grace?” Connie asked in a solicitous tone. “You’re a little pale. I hope you aren’t working too hard.”
“I’m feeling a little off, now that you mention it. I might be coming down with something. Hope I’m not contagious.”
Connie’s smile faltered a bit.
“Well, then let’s get on with this so you can go home and rest,” Mosley said in a too hearty, we’re-all-family-here tone. “Stark, you and Connie have something to discuss with Grace?”
Stark crossed his arms but it was Connie who spoke. “Niki was telling us how nice the house is looking. She said you found a lot of furniture, good furniture on the second floor.”
Grace felt her tenuous hold on civility slipping. She’d been expecting to hear a plea for Winston’s reinstatement, not a conversation about the few antiques left in the house.
“I found some nice serviceable pieces, yes.” And I’ll be damned if you’re getting your hands on any of it.
“Have you gone through all of the drawers?” Stark demanded. He looked angry, but Grace was beginning to think he was always angry.
“I have cleaned it all thoroughly, yes.”
“If you found any jewelry, it’s ours.” Right to the punch line.
“Now, Stark,” Mosley began. “You and your mother came to terms before she died. Everything remaining in the house was Julia’s, which means it went to Grace.”
“I was cheated and you know it. She,” he shot a venomous look at Grace, “wasn’t supposed to get anything. I want whatever it is she found in the house!”
It was Mosley who lost his temper first, slapping the table in front of him, sending a wave of coffee over the rim of his cup. “We’ve been through this a dozen times. You got a second legal opinion and your Baltimore lawyer told you the same thing I did. The house was sold before your mother’s death. The proceeds were split evenly between you and your sister. The contents of the house were also split between you. Your mother even allowed you to select the items you wanted for your share. Julia died and left her half to Grace.”
Stark would not be mollified. “Then I’ll sue the estate. There’s jewelry missing. I keep telling you! Jewelry my mother promised to Niki outside of the will and I want it back!”
Mosley looked disgusted, but not surprised. Connie wrung her hands but stayed quiet.
“Why are you so worked up about it if the jewelry belongs to Niki?” Grace asked, distracting all of them. “Is it that you’ve run out of valuables to sell?”
“What does she mean?” Cyrus’ voice was flat, and he glared at Stark.
“Emma’s diamond,” Grace said. “And the pearls.” She turned to face Stark. “Let me make this clear. There was no jewelry worth having in the house. And if by chance I ever find anything of value that should go to Niki, I’ll make sure she gets to keep it and you don’t get your hands on it.”
Stark half rose from his chair. Spittle flew from his mouth when he said, “I’ll sue if every piece isn’t returned to us.”
Grace was ready. “How were the contents of the house divided, Stark? You take the first floor and leave me the second? Where, exactly, is the furniture that used to be downstairs?”
“Where?” Stark spat the word at her. “Tell her where, Cyrus.”
Grace’s stomach lurched as she remembered the receipts in the paperwork from Emma’s house. Bologna and saltine crackers. Double-digit bank statements.
“Tell her or I will.” Stark was grinning, but it wasn’t a nice smile.
“Emma was proud,” Cyrus started. “She wouldn’t take help-”
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br /> “She sold off the most valuable pieces for money to live on,” Stark said. “Even the ones I wanted — especially the ones I wanted. She sold my grandfather’s portrait. She said the offer was too good to pass up.”
Grace kept her voice detached and cool. Stark was trying for emotional wounds, but she wouldn’t let him get her at that level. Turning to Cyrus, she said, “I’ll need an inventory of what he took from the house. I’ll provide you with a documented list of what was left.” The photos she’d taken on the first day would come in handy after all.
Cyrus sighed and said, “For God’s sake! Would the two of you stop? I have a detailed list of everything of value in the house. Kindly remember that I’m the executor of the estate and I’m not senile, yet. I believe you will both be disappointed when you see what the other ended up with.”
This earned him a sharp look from Stark, but Grace was relieved. She had no desire to go after anything Stark had taken, but neither would she let him take what was hers. Besides, there was another issue she wanted to discuss.
She said, “While we’re all together with legal counsel, I want to make something clear to both you and Connie. Cyrus, pay attention, you’ll want to make sure Winston gets this message and I’m only going to say it once.” She paused to make eye contact with each of them before continuing.
“On the night of the fire, someone came into my room and woke me up. I didn’t see them, but whoever shook me tried to save my life. That’s the only reason I haven’t sworn a complaint against Winston for the arson.”
Connie was on her feet. “How dare you! You have no proof —”
“Shut. Up.” Stark didn’t spare his wife a glance as he silenced her. To Grace, he said, “What makes you think the boy did it?”
“Someone spray painted ‘mine’ on the kitchen walls again, right before the fire. It was Winston, or it was you. Painting stupid messages and setting fire to the house doesn’t seem like your style. Plus, I’m not so sure you’d wake me.”
No one contradicted her.
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