by Mary Campisi
So, they’d gone and his father made the biggest mistake of his life. But so had Rogan. He’d never told anyone what he’d done, or rather, what he hadn’t done, not even his uncle.
The pain was too deep.
If Rogan had looked at the documents and asked a few questions, he might have saved his father and the town from a lot of misery. But he hadn’t, and his selfishness had been his father’s undoing.
He would not be selfish again.
No matter what.
* * *
Elizabeth Hayes knew what it meant to be alone, knew the difference between alone and lonely. She’d been both for much of her life. There’d been no siblings, no close friends, no pets, just her mother, her father, and Everett Broderick, a man she called uncle who was no blood relation. Uncle Everett was her father’s business partner and had been part of their lives for as long as she could remember. It was Uncle Everett who taught her to swim, play chess, and compose a proper photograph. He’d also shown her the difference between trying and commitment, and the importance of an apology. She’d stopped wondering years ago why her parents weren’t the ones bestowing the lessons. Weren’t mothers and fathers supposed to teach their children about responsibility, good citizenship, right from wrong?
Weren’t they supposed to be role models?
Her solitary lifestyle led her to contemplate nature, the gentle swaying of a fern reaching skyward, the layers of a bird’s nest woven in a most intricate design, the glitter of fresh-fallen snow. These observations took her on walks in the park, hikes in the woods, and sloshing in streams. She began drawing what she saw, gathering flowers and leaves to study their patterns and press them between thick books. How could she know this obsession with nature that brought her such peace would grow into a career?
At age twelve, she learned the greatest life lesson of all from her parents: the fanciest words spoken in the most compelling manner did not make them true. Her parents wanted to be all things to her. They wanted to teach and guide her through their own actions, but they did not possess the internal strength to do so. They weren’t models to be used as examples unless one were interested in material gains without regard to right or reason. Where was the compassion for the less fortunate? Why did her mother not volunteer at the food bank or the shelter, or at the very least donate last season’s clothes since she refused to wear them again? Why did she feel it necessary to hand them over to thrift shops to be sold? They had so much when others had so little, and yet, they acted as though what they had was not enough—would never be enough.
Elizabeth decided long ago this would not be her life. She would not be controlled or manipulated by things.
All she wanted was her parents’ love.
Was that really so much to ask?
Apparently so.
Elizabeth might have been better prepared to accept her parents’ faults if they hadn’t been so consumed with each other that they’d excluded her from their intimate circle. Oh, they loved her in their own distracted way. They dressed her in designer fashions, surrounded her with exquisite beauty, and sent her to the finest schools. Hadn’t she traveled to London and Rome before she was thirteen? But she was never part of the reason they existed, never the air and breath that some parents claimed. Phillip and Sandra Hayes breathed and lived for each other, and there was simply not enough oxygen left for their daughter, and now they were both gone, taking the mystique of their existence with them.
“I know how much you miss your parents, and I know it’s not the same, but I’ll always be here for you.”
She met Uncle Everett’s kind gaze, forced a smile. He was all she had left now, the closest person to a relative, and he wasn’t even related. What did that say about her? Was she unlovable? Or was she simply unable to love? “Thank you.” Twenty-eight days ago, the small-engine plane crash had taken her parents without warning. No goodbyes. No final, tepid I love yous.
Uncle Everett cleared his throat, turned toward her. “They did love one another immensely.” He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses, blinked. “And that was both a blessing and a curse for those who had to witness it. Such devotion for another person is a true testament of a powerful love that burns so bright it scorches those who try to draw close.”
The man loved poetic commentary, especially when it had to do with a lesson or an observation. Such as now. She might not be a true relation to Everett Broderick, but she possessed the same intuitive ability to interpret a feeling or a situation that others might miss. It was a gift that sometimes caused as much misery as joy. What child wanted to acknowledge that her own parents needed one another more than their only child?
That knowledge left scars so deep, they bred feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt and resulted in disastrous, ill-fated relationships.
After the last mess that ended in a three-hour rant in which her soon-to-be ex accused her of an inability to commit or trust—just because she refused to move in with him—Elizabeth decided men were too much trouble, and for the foreseeable future, she’d choose the single state. It should have bothered her that she could toss aside a man she’d dated for six months and shared a bed with for four, but it didn’t. She’d been happy enough and liked his company, but to move in with him, see him every night and every morning? Have him in her personal space, expecting he had a right to be there? No, that was not what she wanted, and it was better he find out now. Last she heard, he’d started seeing his yoga instructor and they were moving in together. Again, why no twinge of jealousy, no spurt of anger that she’d been so easily replaced?
What was missing in her DNA? What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she have feelings like normal people?
“Elizabeth?”
When Everett Broderick said her name that way, she knew it was about more than getting her attention. He had a message, a big one, and he wanted to make sure she heard it. “Yes?”
“Your father and I worked together a long time.” His soft brown eyes misted beneath the horn-rimmed glasses, his shoulders slumped. “But—” he paused, licked his thin lips “—there are some things that happened along the way that changed us, especially me.” Another pause, a clearing of his throat. “I’ve kept it inside for too long…”
Elizabeth sat very still, waited. She didn’t like the way he’d begun toying with the fringe on the edge of the pillow, like he’d grown agitated and couldn’t settle down. Everett Broderick was not a man to fidget. “Uncle Everett? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, two years actually.” He smoothed the fringe on the pillow, flattened his hand over it. “I told myself if I went before your parents, then that was a sign the truth should stay buried. But, if I survived them, that meant it needed to be told.” He slid his gaze to hers. “To you.”
“Truth?” She sucked in tiny breaths of air, tried to remain calm. She didn’t like secrets or surprises, had always preferred straight-up answers that didn’t attempt to hide facts or disappointments. “Just tell me, please?” There’d been so much secrecy between her parents, as though they shared a whole other world they never intended to share with her.
Uncle Everett set the pillow aside, blew out a long breath. “Your father and I did some bad things, Elizabeth. We stole money from the ad company where we worked. I did the books so it wasn’t hard to move a few hundred from one column of the ledger to the other. Who would know? The owner was an old man who cared more about playing golf and drinking martinis than the bottom line. As long as he could do both, he wouldn’t ask questions. We got bolder and started taking more money. Phillip manipulated the sales sheets and I massaged the numbers.”
“You embezzled from your old company?” She’d thought they’d earned the money they used to start their real estate business through hard work, talent, and long hours. But to learn they’d stolen it was unfathomable, and yet, he’d just admitted it.
Uncle Everett’s head dipped. “We stole, pure and simple.”
“But why?”
What could have turned them so desperate to make them steal?
His expression softened and he almost smiled. “Ah, Elizabeth, we did it to please your mother, who as you know, could never be pleased for long, no matter the quality of the diamond or the grade of the silk.”
“You did this for Mother?”
He nodded his salt-and-pepper head. “Nobody could ever say no to her, and she knew it.”
“Did she ask you to steal?”
The almost smile faded. “Your mother never had to ask. You know that.”
Yes, she did. Sandra Hayes had been a beautiful woman with a smile and a way about her that made it hard to say no. She’d lived a life of wealth and privilege, with the finest of everything: clothing, jewelry, cars, trips. But it was never quite enough, not for long. The thirst for more ruled her world and when the boredom set in, her eager subjects rushed to bring more treasures home to the kingdom. How well Elizabeth knew about trying to please a mother who would never be pleased.
“I just wish we’d have left it at that. Why couldn’t we have been happy with a little extra cash that nobody missed? Why did we have to go after a town that couldn’t afford to lose what they had, and a man who wouldn’t survive the disgrace? We’re responsible for destroying families…ruining lives.” His voice cracked. “I’ve regretted my part in it from the day it happened two years ago.”
“What are you talking about? Whose lives did you destroy?”
He blinked back tears. “We destroyed good people whose worst crime was trusting the wrong person. We made promises we never intended to keep.” He sighed, dragged a hand over his face. “Your father showed up in their small town under the alias of Gordon T. Haywood, promising what those people needed more than anything: hope. The most respected person in town was a man named Jonathan Donovan. Hard worker, honest, good family man.” Pause. “Had a wife and a couple grown kids, owned an old factory building that needed a new tenant. Your dad told him he was in the business of assisting small start-up manufacturing companies. He said he could help him create a new business, renovate the place, and bring back jobs. Can you imagine what that sounded like to people who’d known their share of hardships? Everybody was excited, thinking about the money they’d make, and Jonathan Donovan was going to run the place and give jobs to thirty people…”
“But?”
“Of course, there was a catch.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, swiped his eyes. “There’s always a catch when your father’s involved.”
She didn’t miss the remorse in his voice, mixed with a tinge of bitterness. “What did he do?”
“He convinced Donovan to take a loan against the property and give the proceeds to him, said part was to buy equipment and the other part was to pay the crew to work on the building. Making a deal like that would ensure that Donovan ran the company; that’s what Phillip told him. Poor guy never saw it coming. He talked other people into investing in the business, used your dad’s story to sell them on the idea of a locally owned factory. When people applied for a job, they got a form to fill in their investment amount. Forked over the money on the spot and even got a nice sticker that read Thank you for believing. A few hundred here, a thousand there, and the big chunks of money from Jonathan Donovan and his siblings from the mortgage on the building. Your father left town on a Friday with the promise that renovations would start that Monday.” Uncle Everett looked away, his voice dipped. “Monday came and went with no renovations, same thing for Tuesday. I heard when Wednesday rolled around and Gordon T. Haywood didn’t show, the town wanted to come after Donovan and take their anger out on his hide. It crushed him when he realized he’d been duped. He never recovered; turned to drink, died a broken man about a year ago.”
Elizabeth tried to comprehend what she’d just heard. “How could you let that happen to innocent people?”
He shook his head. “I’ll never forgive myself, not as long as I live.”
“But why them?”
“I don’t know. Your father picked the town; he was very insistent about it.” He paused, squinted as though recalling the conversation. “Your mother found out about it and begged him to choose another location. That was the only time she got involved in business, legal or otherwise. It was also the only time I ever heard them argue. Your father wouldn’t change his mind, and I knew better than to ask why he was so adamant about that particular town.” He leveled his brown gaze on her. “Never did figure it out.”
“Why did you tell me this? Why couldn’t you have buried it with my parents?”
“Because we did that town wrong, Elizabeth, and I can’t go to my grave without trying to right those wrongs.” A tear trickled down his thin face, followed by a second. “I couldn’t do it while your parents were alive, but now I can.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “And you can help me.”
About the Author
Mary Campisi writes emotion-packed books about second chances. Whether contemporary romances, women's fiction, or Regency historicals, her books all center on belief in the beauty of that second chance. Her small town romances center around family life, friendship, and forgiveness as they explore the issues of today’s contemporary women.
Mary should have known she'd become a writer when at age thirteen she began changing the ending to all the books she read. It took several years and a number of jobs, including registered nurse, receptionist in a swanky hair salon, accounts payable clerk, and practice manager in an OB/GYN office, for her to rediscover writing. Enter a mouse-less computer, a floppy disk, and a dream large enough to fill a zip drive. The rest of the story lives on in every book she writes.
When she's not working on her craft or following the lives of five adult children, Mary's digging in the dirt with her flowers and herbs, cooking, reading, walking her rescue lab mix, Cooper, or, on the perfect day, riding off into the sunset with her very own hero/husband on his Harley Ultra Limited.
If you would like to be notified when Mary has a new release, please sign up at http://www.marycampisi.com/newsletter.
To learn more about Mary and her books…
https://www.marycampisi.com
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Other Books by Mary Campisi
Contemporary Romance:
Truth in Lies Series
Book One: A Family Affair
Book Two: A Family Affair: Spring
Book Three: A Family Affair: Summer
Book Four: A Family Affair: Fall
Book Five: A Family Affair: Christmas
Book Six: A Family Affair: Winter
Book Seven: A Family Affair: The Promise
Book Eight: A Family Affair: The Secret
Book Nine: A Family Affair: The Wish
Book Ten: A Family Affair: The Gift
Book Eleven: A Family Affair: The Weddings, a novella
Book Twelve: A Family Affair: The Cabin, a novella
Book Thirteen: A Family Affair: The Return
* * *
NEW: Reunion Gap Series
Book One: Strangers Like Us
Book Two: Liars Like Us
Book Three: Lovers Like Us
More to come…
* * *
That Second Chance Series
Book One: Pulling Home
Book Two: The Way They Were
Book Three: Simple Riches
Book Four: Paradise Found
Book Five: Not Your Everyday Housewife
Book Six: The Butterfly Garden
That Second Chance Boxed Set 1-3
That Second Chance Boxed Set 4-6
That Second Chance Complete Boxed Set 1-6
* * *
The Betrayed Trilogy
Book One: Pieces of You
Book Two: Secrets of You
Book Three: What’s Left of Her: a novella
The Betrayed Trilogy Boxed Set
* * *
Begin Again
The Sweetest Deal
* * *
Regenc
y Historical:
An Unlikely Husband Series
Book One - The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest
Book Two - A Taste of Seduction
Book Three - A Touch of Seduction, a novella
Book Four - A Scent of Seduction
An Unlikely Husband Boxed Set
* * *
The Model Wife Series
Book One: The Redemption of Madeline Munrove
* * *
Young Adult:
Pretending Normal