by Lyssa Layne
Just before they got to the door, Cherie turned back toward the lawyer and with a glare in her eyes harsh enough to singe the hair off his head, Cherie threw down her gauntlet. “Mr. Stafford, you’ve changed my world, forever. However, with or without your help I will get to the bottom of this mystery. I swear it on my parent’s graves.” She turned just as abruptly and exited before she ended up in tears.
Cherie knew if she looked back, she'd find Jason Stafford Esquire, with his mouth hanging open and a dumbfounded look on his face. She felt an acute sense of justice when she heard Mark Elliot's laughter right before Mrs. Alexander shut the door in a very unladylike manner.
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As Olivia and Cherie stepped from the building, Olivia's chauffeur rushed forward and escorted the ladies to a highly polished silver, Rolls Royce.
The essence of gentility, Olivia announced to her driver, “Jennings, this is Miss Cherie Michaels. She will be staying with us tonight. If she should require anything, please see to her needs as you've seen to mine all these years.”
Jennings nodded his head, “As you wish. It would be my pleasure Mrs. Alexander, Miss Michaels.”
Once they were comfortably seated in the back seat of the Rolls, Jennings took his seat behind the wheel and drove toward the Alexander home.
Cherie immediately had second thoughts about going home with Olivia. She was overcome with the chills and automatically reached for the crystal around her neck. She suddenly realized it had become a crutch as of late when she touched it and it instantly began to warm her.
She didn't want to give the woman any false hope that a relationship would develop just because she chose to grant the woman her request. At the same time she felt a sense of dread wash over her because, as much as she didn't want to believe it, Cherie feared that all she'd heard today was the absolute truth.
If so, then Cherie knew she was in for one heck of a ride. What now?
Who am I?
Where did I really come from?
Was I wanted?
Why was I put up for adoption?
Her mind raced, incapable of coming up with a rational thought that could possibly answer the questions which scurried through her mind.
Olivia must have read the fear on Cherie's face for she patted her hand as if it were the only consolation she could offer her.
There was something in Olivia’s eyes. She could only imagine how much pain the woman must be suffering, for the loss of her husband, and now dealing with all the drama she’d heard today.
It seemed like only a matter of minutes passed before they turned into the drive. Ancient oaks lined both sides of the lane that led to the front of Olivia's home.
When the car rolled to a stop, Jennings came around to help them out of the car. He took Olivia's arm helping her up the few steps to the entrance of her palatial home.
Cherie lagged behind, taking in the front view of the Alexander home. A mansion that looked as old as the money she was sure sustained it. Four gleaming white roman columns supported the covered entrance. Stained glass windows mirrored each side of the massive double doors with matching antique brass lion heads.
Her rapt gaze ran to the fountain in the middle of the circular driveway, where the likeness of two children was captured in marble, frolicked as they held up a garden hose. Water cascaded down over them, their happy laughter forever frozen in the height of their fun.
She smiled wondering if the woman they believed to be her mother ever played in the inviting pool. Somehow she doubted it would have been allowed.
“Cherie, are you coming?” Olivia asked.
Unsure of what was going through the woman’s mind. The look on her face didn't appear as fearful as it had been in the car. But then again, they hadn't had a chance to talk much on the trip, as each was lost in their separate thoughts.
Cherie joined Olivia, following her and Jennings into the spectacular home.
Upon entering the foyer, she spun in a slow circle reveling in the grandeur of the open hall. She admired a spiral staircase that wound upward to the floors off to her right. The dark cherry wood finish of the banister gleamed under the reflection of the antique crystal chandelier overhead.
“Jennings, would you please ask Martha to serve tea in the library. I think Cherie and I could both use a bit of refreshment after the day we've had.”
“Yes, Mrs. Alexander, right away.” Jennings hurried from the room to do her bidding.
Olivia took her by the arm and escorted her to the left through the massive twin cherry doors which opened into the largest personal library Cherie had ever seen. Shelves lined three of the walls in the library. Ceiling to floor windows lined the fourth. Blood red velvet draperies adorned the continuous wall of glass. The shelves were filled to capacity with books and a few knick-knacks that must have held a great deal of sentiment to share the elegant perch.
Cherie's mouth opened in awe as she read the names of a variety of volumes she knew had to be first editions. What a wonderful place this would have been to grow up with an endless supply of books to read. Cherie's passion for reading had continuously stumped her parents. She would rather have read a book instead of doing just about anything else, including dating. Something even Trish never understood either.
“This room is remarkable. I have never seen so many books. And just look at the titles. I'd never have left this room if I lived here.” Cherie laughed giddily, unable to believe the sight of such rare treasures. Drawn to the first editions, she fingered the spines of Twain, Tennyson, Alcott, and Browning, all among her favorites which lined this paradise.
“Then you have something in common with your mother. This was her favorite room. We always knew where to find her.” Olivia smiled at her. Cherie watched the woman look around the library, and read on her face a look of her mother’s she’d seen. It was as if Olivia recalled all the many times she'd had to cajole her daughter into going out with friends, rather than stay cooped up in the house all day reading; just as her mother had done to her.
The mere mention of her supposed mother dampened the moment. Cherie turned away and continued to survey the opulent room. She heard the chiming of a clock off to her right.
Turning she saw a cherry wood Grandfather clock striking three o'clock in the afternoon. She had scanned the rest of the room before her eyes strayed back toward the windows. There stood the most magnificent grand piano she had ever seen. What she wouldn't have given to be able to practice her piano lessons on that as a child. She was sure “Heart and Soul” would have sounded like a Sonata coming from it.
Olivia seemed to have become disheartened after mentioning her daughter. Olivia stepped closer, and Cherie was fearful that Olivia might want to speak on her daughter's behalf before the chance disappeared.
Touching her arm she began, “Cherie, I know today has been hard for you. It's been hard for me as well. I've had many years of regret that I've had to live with. Regret that I didn't speak up to my husband at the time, about how wrong he was to allow you to be adopted instead of being raised by us. I want you to know I have missed you since the day you were born.” Olivia turned away. There was a catch in the older woman’s voice; Cherie turned away before the tears that welled in her eyes flowed.
In her heart, Cherie knew that whatever had happened to her mother, Olivia was not to blame. Touching her shoulder she implored, “Olivia, I totally sympathize with you and all you’ve been through. From Destiny’s pregnancy to the loss of your husband, but you can't blame yourself. You weren’t responsible.”
Olivia turned to face her, “I can and I do. If only I'd had the courage to fight Lawrence back then, demanding that I raise you, none of this would have happened.”
The rattling of fine china interrupted their conversation. A woman she guessed to be Martha entered the room pushing a cart laden with a pot of tea, two cups, saucers and a tray of cookies.
While Olivia poured the tea, she offered the sweets to Cherie. “Would you care for any cookies?�
�
“After today, sweets are definitely in order.” Cherie stepped forward placing three cookies on an exquisite dessert plate.
“Martha, Cherie will be joining us for dinner. Please add another setting?”
“Yes, Ma'am.” Martha silently left the room to check on dinner preparations.
Olivia placed her tea on the coffee table before seating herself on the settee, then patted the seat next silently requesting Cherie to join her.
“Cherie, I don't want to get into all the histrionics surrounding your birth right now, but you do need to know something. Your mother was never to blame for you not being raised here with us. That was completely your grandfather's doing.”
Seating herself next to Olivia, she set her tea on the table and the plate in her lap. “I am trying to take it all in. Maybe, if you gave me some of the background on what happened I could make some sense of all this nonsense?
Cherie couldn’t ignore the scowl on Olivia’s face imagining the many thoughts that must be rushing through her mind. She seemed fearful of giving Cherie a bad impression of her daughter. She watched as Olivia struggle and appeared to choose her words carefully.
“Above all else, I’d like you to keep an open. What I'm about to tell you may sound impossible, but I assure you it happened.” Olivia sat back and began her story.
Cherie scanned Olivia's face as she gazed into the past. Seeing the older woman forced to confront an apparently painful time which wrenched at her heart, Cherie wondered about her. Could the woman really be her grandmother? Was she already seeing her in that capacity? It wasn't that it was such a stretch of the imagination because Olivia did seem to be a very loving person, but what about her past? Cherie already had grandparents she loved and adored. Was there room for another?
“My daughter was a beautiful young girl. She was also painfully shy. You see her father, my Lawrence, had a rather domineering personality. That was fine for me because I knew going into my marriage that he was in charge. No matter what you may think, my dear, I loved your grandfather very much. But you see, Desiree was of a different generation. She hadn’t been boy-crazy, never did drugs, and never drank. She was a good girl. But she also had a very different idea of what kind of man she wanted to marry. Lawrence would try to set up situations for her to meet young men of what he considered to be our class. Unfortunately, they never appealed to her.
Cherie could totally relate. She remembered her father introducing her to several different men he hoped she'd date, but none of them ever set her heart on fire the way she wanted and dreamed.
“Then one day we noticed Desiree acting differently. That's when she asked us to call her Destiny. I knew something had happened immediately. Lawrence, however, thought she must have been hanging around the wrong crowd. I knew it was more than that, so I confronted her about it. She admitted to me that she had met a boy and that he'd asked her out on a date. I suggested she invite him for dinner one night for us to meet him.”
When frown lines appeared between Olivia's eyes, Cherie knew the dinner didn't go well, and the memory was causing her pain even now.
“Lawrence was not the least bit happy to hear that Destiny had invited her young man to dine with us. He made it a point to make him as uncomfortable as he possibly could. He asked all sorts of irrelevant questions about his background, job, and intentions toward our daughter. By the time dinner was over, they couldn't get out of the house fast enough.”
Taking a glance around the room, Cherie’s eyes fell on a photograph of an older gentleman. While Olivia continued to reminisce, she moved to the piano and picked up the picture. What stood out most in her mind while viewing the white-haired man, was the frown lines on his forehead. Her other grandfathers never had that look about them. They were always merry, happy souls.
She immediately felt sorry for Destiny, picturing this man doing all that he could to embarrass her boyfriend. She had to know who this man was. “Olivia, is this Lawrence?”
Olivia joined Cherie. Taking the photograph from her hand she rubbed a finger over his face. Her anger on her face softened as she if remembering other times, better days from this picture shot when he retired. “He had always hated having his picture taken, and had groused the whole time Destiny fussed trying to get him to stand still for the photograph.” She sighed. “Yes, that's my Lawrence. This picture was taken the day of his retirement party. He always disliked having his picture taken but Destiny took pictures of everything, making memories of everything that happened in our lives. Lawrence hated that picture, but Destiny and I loved it because she captured the real him.”
The phone rang, and only seconds later Martha entered the library, “Mrs. Alexander, there's a phone call for you.”
Olivia excused herself and took the call in the foyer.
While she was gone, Cherie walked around the room. She picked up several objects wondering to whom they belonged. There were several framed photos of a young woman Cherie assumed was Destiny. She chilled instantly recognizing parts of herself in the face of the young woman. Could this really be her mother? She was a beautiful young girl with hair as white as sun-kissed wheat. She wore it pulled back into a ponytail, high on the back of her head. One photograph, in particular, was of Olivia and her daughter, showed Destiny to be almost a head taller than her mother, but with the same vivid sky blue eyes. Eyes she too possessed. As much as she hated to admit, the more time that passed, the more photos she viewed, the more she recognized expressions on the young woman’s face. Expressions she, to, often used.
When Olivia returned, her cheeks were still flushed.
“That was Jason. He called to apologize to me for his behavior and asked if he could come to apologize to you as well. I hope you don't mind, my dear, but I invited him to join us for dinner.”
Cherie's shoulders sagged at the thought of having to sit through an entire meal with the pompous ass of a lawyer.
“Honestly Cherie, I've known Jason all his life and I've never seen that young man behave as he did today. Please give him another chance. I'm sure once he sees you're not out to rob us blind, he'll show you the real Jason Stafford. The Jason I've always known and loved.”
After swallowing the words she wanted to say, she simply sighed, “I'll give him a chance, but only because you've asked me to. Just don't count on too much. I think you're over-estimating your esteemed lawyer. I don't expect anything different than what I received from him earlier today.”
##
The dinner went smoothly, much to Jason’s surprise as well as Olivia’s. Not only did he show up and apologize, but he also brought a peace offering of a large bouquet of pink sweetheart roses for each of them.
Martha took both bouquets and placed them in water. Then put Olivia's on the side table in the dining room and took Cherie's up to the room she'd be using for the night.
Jason went out of his way to keep his conversations light and off the subject of who Cherie was to the family he'd grown up feeling as close to as his own. Olivia and Lawrence were the aunt and uncle he never had. Lawrence harangued him as a boy, just as lovingly as Olivia mothered him from the time Jason was ten and his own mother had passed away. So, when he went into the meeting earlier, he hadn't meant to sound like an egotistical idiot. Unfortunately, it just came out that way.
Jason helped Olivia from her chair when the meal was done, whispering that he wanted a minute alone with Cherie.
Only too willing to oblige, she came up with an excuse to leave the two young people alone and to allow his request. “Jason, would you please escort Cherie to the library and pour the brandy? I want to make sure Cherie's room has been made up as I specified.”
When they retired to the library after dinner, he meant to square things with Cherie. “Of course Olivia, that will give Cherie and I a chance to talk and get acquainted.” With his hand barely touching her lower back, he escorted Cherie out of the dining room.
From the look on her face, he could tell dread nearly choked Cher
ie. He could practically read her mind as if she imagined all sorts of insulting questions he would throw at her while Olivia was absent from the room.
He felt her spine become rigid as though she were preparing herself to do battle with the witless lawyer. Him. He couldn’t blame her. He had been an ass.
Once in the library, Jason poured three brandies then turned to walk toward the old phonograph.
Jason needed to break the spell. He went to the old phonograph that Lawrence insisted on maintaining. When he put on his favorite album, he looked to Cherie to see what kind of reaction she’d have.
Cherie’s head whipped around as she turned to face the speakers, and a slow smile settled on her face at the first strain of the deep, gravelly voice of Louie Armstrong, he finally breathed. Jason didn't miss her expression or the manner in which her eyebrows rise in question if he tried. He wondered if Cherie liked jazz as much as he did.
“Miss Michaels, Cherie, I would just like to apologize again for my appalling behavior earlier today. I asked Olivia to let me speak to you alone so that I could again convey my deepest apology as well as extend my services to you should you need them in the future with your parent’s estate.
Cherie folded her arms across her waist and stared at him for a full minute before speaking.
“Are you telling me that I’m good enough for your services now when this afternoon you couldn’t wait to get rid of me? What happened to change your opinion of me?”
“I deserve that, and much more. I agree, but no, that's not the case. I just meant that I know you must have quite a few unanswered questions and if you have need of an attorney or the use of a good private investigator, I want to let you know these services are available. Services that I'd offer to anyone in Olivia's family; and considering you are her granddaughter that means you're included.”
Cherie stood still as if she couldn’t believe her ears. He meant it, sincerely. Given his recent behavior, he hoped she had no alternative but to believe he spoke the truth.