Paige soon scampered off after her mother, and Owen hoped the gathering would end before long. But another spoon tinkled against another water glass, and this time, Owen’s older brother Douglas stood and cleared his throat.
“As many of you know, I’ve been seeing Merry here for a while.” Douglas looked as if he was fidgeting with something in his pocket, and Owen wondered what was up. He was used to his brother being strong and witty, and a reasonably talented public speaker. Now Douglas looked as though he might pass out at any moment.
“I’ve never met a woman who—” Douglas cleared his throat and looked up, and seemed to be struggling to speak.
Were his eyes moist?
Owen was concerned. Was his brother having a heart attack? He was only thirty-four, but what other explanation was there for the bizarre symptoms Douglas appeared to be exhibiting? His face had grown pale, and his lower lip even seemed to be trembling.
Suddenly, Douglas dropped down, almost out of sight behind the crowd of Fitzgeralds surrounding the table.
Owen pulled out his phone. He’d give his brother another thirty seconds to pull himself together, and then he was going to call for an ambulance.
“Merry, my love—” Douglas took Meredith O’Leary’s hand “—would you do me the honor of being my bride?”
The room went completely silent. Even the patrons in the next dining room grew silent. Owen put his phone away.
“Yes!” Merry practically threw herself at Douglas, kissing him, while the room erupted into cheers, and the folks the next dining room over who’d been listening in started clapping.
Victoria even peeked her head around, with Paige at her heels, to check on the commotion. Owen watched as Victoria realized what was happening, saw her smile a wistful-looking smile and lean down to whisper something to Paige, who quickly started clapping, too.
Then Victoria glanced his way, and her blush returned, and she darted back in the direction of the kitchen.
Owen watched her go. Mystifying woman. She looked sincerely happy for Douglas and Merry. And she was obviously a good mother to Paige. But what about the rest of this mess, with what she might be hiding about Olivia’s secret baby, and of course, the secret she’d kept from him for nine years?
Turning back to the happy couple, Owen watched Douglas receive instructions on the claddagh ring he’d bought for Merry, about which finger it should be worn on, and which way it should point, and all the complicated meaning behind it. None of that romantic nonsense was Owen’s kind of thing to sort out, but at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling a bit like that wistful smile he’d glimpsed on Victoria’s face.
Douglas, at least, was going to have a family. Merry had a four-year-old son, and if Douglas took after the family tradition at all, they’d have a houseful of kids in a few short years. He felt a pang of jealousy that Douglas was going to have a family.
Owen looked around the table at his siblings. It was high time their large brood of single folks did something to secure another generation. If it had been up to Owen, he’d have gotten married years ago and have a bustling family filling this table by now.
But it hadn’t been up to Owen. The only girl he’d ever loved had run away ten years before, leaving Owen feeling too jilted and hurt to bother looking for someone else to love. But he had a daughter, an adorable, talented, nine-year-old daughter who looked just as he had at that age. It was time for him to start being the father he should have been all along.
As he looked over in time to see his brother and Merry sharing a loving kiss, Owen realized it was time. The future wouldn’t wait forever. Cooper had advised him that joint custody of Paige might not even be possible, and had suggested that Owen work out an agreement with Victoria first, rather than starting with a legal filing.
But based on the interactions he’d observed between Victoria and her daughter, he couldn’t imagine her being willing to share custody. Paige had been hers alone for nine years.
But she was his daughter, too. Victoria would have to accept that and everything it meant, or maybe he would have to talk to Cooper Hennessy about petitioning for joint custody, after all.
SEVEN
“Victoria?” Owen’s deep voice came out of nowhere just as Victoria slumped into a booth with a tall glass of chocolate milk and the last wedge of Irish soda bread.
Victoria jumped to her feet. “When did you come back?”
“I never left.” He motioned with his hand for her to sit. “We need to talk.”
Victoria settled back into her seat, but she couldn’t relax. She washed down a bite of bread, hoping to calm her stomach. But the agitation she felt inside had nothing to do with hunger.
“Paige went with my father to the Reading Nook. He gave her a gift certificate to my sister’s bookstore in exchange for singing for us,” Owen relayed.
“I know. Your father didn’t have to do that, but Paige was thrilled. She loves to read.” Victoria took another bite of bread.
“We need to tell Paige that I’m her father.”
Though Owen’s words seemed to come out of nowhere, in many ways, Victoria had been expecting them for some time.
“I agree.” She set her bread down calmly and met his eyes. “Especially after seeing the two of you interact today, it’s only a matter of time before someone guesses, and I don’t want her to learn the truth through the grapevine. But the first thing she’s going to want to know will be what kind of role you’ll have in her life. She’s talked before about having a father—”
“She has? When? What has she said? What did you tell her?”
Victoria felt her heart thumping hard, and she pushed away the napkin that held her bread, unable to think about eating when Owen looked at her with such intensity in his blue eyes, the crisp cut of his brown hair giving him a militant look that made him only that much more intimidating. “For years she’s noticed other kids with their mothers and fathers, and asked about families. Of course, we’ve always known other single moms, so I explained that our family was one of those families, not the kind with two parents.”
Anger flashed in Owen’s eyes. “But she has two parents.”
“Not functionally.”
“I would have functioned—”
Victoria reached across the table and took Owen’s hand as his volume began to rise. They were alone in the café, but anyone could walk in at any moment. “You can function as her father, if you want to. But we need to agree on what your role will be before Paige asks that question.”
To her surprise, Owen fell silent, though the fury in his eyes didn’t dim.
“Owen,” Victoria asked gently, “what do you want?”
“I want my daughter in my life.”
“Okay. How do you want us to divide her time?”
“You got the first half of her childhood. I just want to make sure I have an equal share in the rest. I want to share in her parenting, Victoria. I want my parental rights.”
His words, combined with the serious look on his face, sent a chill down Victoria’s spine. She dropped his hand. “You want—”
“I want joint custody. I want her to come live with me for half the week.”
Victoria stared at him.
“But she hardly knows you.”
“Because you never gave her a chance to get to know me. You created this situation, Victoria.” The anger she’d seen simmering in his eyes spilled over, and he rose up onto his feet.
Victoria jumped from her seat, too, glad there wasn’t anyone around to witness their heated exchange. “You can’t take her away from me. She’ll be terrified.”
“Terrified of her own father? And I’m not taking her away, Victoria.” Owen glared at her and strode for the door, as though he was going to find Paige and take
her home that very instant.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“To find Cooper Hennessy.”
“Why—” Victoria started to ask, but quickly understood. “You’re going to take me to court?”
“If that’s the only way for me to attain shared custody, yes.” He stepped past her toward the door.
“Owen, wait.” She tugged on his arm. Shared custody might be just the beginning. She couldn’t begin to afford a court battle, especially not against the wealthy, influential Fitzgeralds. Owen had to be convinced otherwise. “Stop and think. Calm down. You can’t do this to Paige. It would tear her apart. Please be reasonable. We can work something out.” She gently pushed him back toward the kitchen, away from the front windows where anyone passing by on the street might see them.
His chest rose and fell with barely suppressed emotion under her hands. “You’ve had her for over nine years.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t change the past. I wish I could go back in time and change the way everything happened, but I can’t. The best we can do is to make the right decisions from here on out. Please?”
“I want my daughter in my life. She’s a Fitzgerald. She ought to be raised as a Fitzgerald.” He didn’t specify what that meant, but Victoria imagined it came with a lot more privileges than being raised as an Evans.
Victoria nodded. “I’m willing to share parental rights with you.” Her voice broke, and she felt tears streaming down her cheeks. “But you’ve got to let her get to know you first. You can’t just take her away half the week or she’ll be traumatized. She has to trust you. She has to understand that we both love her and we want what’s best for her.”
“She’s my daughter. She should be a Fitzgerald. She should have the name.”
“Okay. We can change her name. But we can’t move any faster than what she’s comfortable with.” Victoria sniffed back her tears. “Okay?”
For the first time, Owen’s stony expression softened ever so slightly. “Okay.”
Owen stepped out onto the street and took a deep breath of the crisp March air. He’d gotten what he’d asked for, more or less. It was a victory.
He headed up the street. The Hennessy Law Office was closed for the weekend, but first thing Monday morning he was going to have Cooper draw up papers, and then make sure Victoria signed them before she changed her mind. Maybe then, once all the legal details were taken care of and there was no chance of going back, maybe he’d finally feel at peace about the situation. Once he had parental rights, no one could take his daughter away from him.
He made it about another block, almost halfway home, before guilt struck him.
Picking up his pace, he broke into a trot, almost as though he could outrun the remorse that seemed to have grabbed him by the ankle, creeping up his body like some parasitic weed.
It was silly. There was no reason for him to feel guilty. Paige was his daughter and he had every right to share in her life. Even Victoria had said so.
By the time he reached his town house a few blocks from town, he was out of breath—which was absurd, because he often ran far longer distances without getting winded. He pulled out his keys and pinched his eyes shut, hoping to block out thoughts of Victoria, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was her tear-filled face as she pleaded with him not to take her daughter away.
The clinging vine of guilt held his arms back, preventing him from so much as unlocking the door, so Owen leaned against the doorway, panting as he fought it.
Victoria had taken Paige away from him. She’d wronged him. She deserved every tear she’d shed.
And yet, how many times back in high school had he held her while she cried over the loss of her mother and her struggles to keep her dad sober, or at least off the road when he’d been drinking? How many times had he prayed that somehow, he could make all those tears go away for good?
That had pretty much been the last time he’d prayed, save for the peace of his own mother’s soul when she died of cancer five years ago. With Patrick dead and Victoria gone, Owen had felt as though the light of his faith had been snuffed out.
Now he pulled it out like a rusty weapon and held it up toward the light.
“God?” he whispered into the cold March air, the prayer almost creaking for lack of use. “I don’t know if I did the right thing.”
He waited, watching the white puffs of his panting breath give way to normal breathing. He could almost feel the choking vine of guilt halt its steady climb. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Paige is my daughter. I deserve—” He stopped, the pressure on his heart growing again.
Did he deserve her?
He looked up, as though he could see God through the misty Massachusetts sky.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he repeated, and shook his head, weary from the emotional fight. “I don’t know.” He shook his head again. Was God even listening?
Of course not. What was he thinking, letting guilt get the better of him?
Shrugging off the assault of emotions, he went in and closed the door behind him. Rousing his laptop from sleep mode, he pulled up Cooper’s email address from his local contacts and started typing.
Adding on the agreement he and Victoria had reached, Owen made his case to Cooper. He knew enough about the law to know it was a solid case. Victoria had agreed to give him shared custody of Paige, and even if she went back on her word, surely he had rights?
He finished the email and hit Send.
His daughter would be his, one way or another.
Victoria spent every spare moment with Paige the next day, as though she could store away precious memories against the time when Owen would take her daughter away from her for hours, nights at a time. They spent Sunday morning at church together, and Paige giggled as she helped decorate cookies most of the afternoon. After the supper crowd cleared out, Victoria hurried upstairs to get in some reading time with Paige before bed.
It was just after eight-thirty on Sunday evening when Victoria and Paige sat reading in the big comfy chair in Paige’s room, and Victoria heard a sudden thump from somewhere below them.
One glance at her daughter’s face told her Paige had heard the sound, too.
“What was that?” Paige whispered.
“Shh.” Victoria listened intently, straining to hear the sound if it came again, while at the same time praying it was nothing. They’d been jumping at every odd creak and groan in the old house since the robbery the week before. But just to be on the safe side, Victoria pulled out her phone.
A clatter like breaking glass erupted from downstairs, and Paige leaped from her lap, pushing her bedroom door shut and locking the simple hook-and-eye mechanism, while Victoria called 911, quickly relaying the situation.
“I think they’re in the back dining room,” she explained. “The front door is locked, but you could send an officer around the side.” Part of her shuddered at the thought of her antique wood-inlaid door being kicked in. That would cost several thousand dollars to replace. But then, there was no price she could put on Paige’s safety. Ultimately, she just wanted whoever was downstairs to be caught.
“An officer is on the way. Would you like to stay on the line?”
“Yes, please.”
Paige snuggled into her arms, and Victoria tucked her daughter’s head under her chin, praying for their safety, praying that the nightmare they were living through would soon come to an end.
The instant Owen heard the call come over the radio, he whipped his cruiser around in a one-eighty and floored it the three blocks between him and the Sugar Plum, throwing the vehicle into Park and leaping out a quarter of a block from the inn, hoping to avoid scaring off whoever might be breaking in.
The dispatcher had relayed a report of breaking glass in the back d
ining room. Owen had spent most of the previous day in that room and knew it well. He drew his sidearm and darted up the sidewalk toward the wide windows that flanked the side of the building.
There were no lights on downstairs, but Owen caught sight of movement—a curtain fluttering through the open window.
Make that the broken window.
At the same time, a figure at the front door caught his attention. Owen hesitated, unsure which direction to go. Was the perpetrator retreating through the front door?
Ducking behind a front tree, Owen focused on the front door as it opened and the figure stepped through.
Light filled the foyer.
Owen heard a thump from the side of the building. He zipped back, trying to cover both sides of the building at once. A dark figure darted behind the building. Owen gave chase, vaulting the woodpile and nearly stumbling as he tried to keep his footing on the uneven terrain.
The figure passed under the glow of a streetlight, and for a moment, Owen had a decent glimpse of the perpetrator from the back. Not tall, not a big guy like the robber Paige had described. No, this intruder was slightly built, even feminine, with a flutter of blond hair escaping from beneath a dark hat.
Owen sprinted toward the moving figure, who disappeared past the next building. But as Owen rounded the corner, a vehicle tore off with a squeal of tires, leaving nothing but sloppy snow in its wake. Thick snow obscured the small sedan, leaving him with no make, model or license plate number. Even the hubcaps were little more than a generic blur.
Mindful of the figure he’d spotted at the front door, Owen gave up trying to run down the speeding car on foot and swiftly rounded the front of the building, leaping up the front steps and through the open door just as a familiar plump figure backed her way out from behind the hostess podium.
“Aaah!” Charlotte Newbright screamed and dropped whatever she was carrying with a loud thud.
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