Bending the Rules

by Margaret Watson

  Nathan knew far too well what a dirtbag Chuck was. The guy had collected the loan repayment money from him every week. “He still in jail for bringing a gun into my restaurant?”

  “Nah. Finally got bailed out. Disappeared. Probably stashed somewhere out of sight.”

  “No loss,” said Mitch.

  “None at all.”

  Jesse set the drinks in front of the two men, and Danny swallowed a gulp of his beer. “Based on my extensive research, Mama’s has the best Guinness in the city,” he said as he set it down. “You must sell a ton of it.”

  “We do, but there’s a place out in Naperville called Quigley’s that sells a lot more. Those suburbanites know how to put away their Vitamin G.”

  “Who’d have thought a bunch of suburban nancies could outdrink us?”

  “Hard to believe,” Nathan said, his voice light.

  Mitch smiled and took a drink.

  “So Dad wanted to get a drink, and I have some information for you. Thought we’d kill two birds with one stone,” Danny said. He shoved a hand through his thick hair. “Nothing solid yet, but a few leads.” He leaned closer to Nathan and lowered his voice. “Something happened a few years ago with Alderman O’Fallon’s kid. He would have been fifteen or sixteen at the time. I checked with his school, and he was yanked out without any explanation. Disappeared from the neighborhood. Found out he was in drug rehab.”

  “That was way before I approached O’Fallon for the money I needed,” Nathan said.

  “Yeah, but maybe someone did him a favor. Got the kid out of drug charges, or something like that. Maybe O’Fallon owed that guy. Maybe that’s why O’Fallon won’t give up the guy who gave him the money. Maybe they’re connected.”

  Mitch tugged his tie loose. Nathan nodded. A spark of excitement swept through him. It was the first real lead they’d had in the two months since the alderman was arrested. “Can you follow it up?”

  “I’m running into walls. Maybe Patrick would have better luck.”

  “I’ll let him know. Thanks, Danny.”

  The detective took a drink of his beer. “We’re gonna nail this bastard, Nate. Just a matter of time.”

  “God, I hope so.” It was time to get his life back on track.

  Jesse handed him the order sheet to sign. When he reached for his pen, his fingers brushed the edge of Emma’s card. “Hey, Danny, what would you do if someone came to you and said you had a kid and you didn’t even know who the woman was?”

  Mitch set his glass abruptly on the bar and stared at Nathan, and Danny narrowed his eyes. “Get a paternity test, then tell her to get lost.” His eyes sharpened. “Why? Someone calling you a daddy?”

  “Trying to.”

  “Paddy could run a background check on the woman. She’s probably pulled scams like this before.”

  “You have such an elevated opinion of the general public,” Nathan said.

  Kopecki snorted. “I’ve been a cop for over ten years. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

  “You want me to look into it, Nate?” Mitch asked.

  “Nah,” he answered. Danny’s father was an assistant state’s attorney. “You’ve got better things to do than worry about my situation.”

  Danny nudged Nathan’s shoulder. “Turn it over to your brother,” he said.

  “Really? Ask my younger brother to check out a woman who says I fathered her kid? Think I’ll handle it myself.”

  Kopecki grinned. “Probably smart. Paddy wouldn’t let you live that one down.”

  “He would not.”

  “Sometimes families are a pain in the ass, you know?” Danny laid a twenty on the bar and slid off the stool. “Good talking to you, Nate. Keep in touch.”

  “Thanks for the update.” It was the first glimmer of hope since the mess with the restaurant had started.

  The tall detective waved as he walked out of the bar, and Mitch nodded goodbye. Nathan looked at Emma’s card again. Get a paternity test, then tell her to get lost.

  Problem was, he couldn’t tell Sonya Michaels to get lost and he didn’t want to tell Emma to, either. In spite of what she’d sprung on him tonight, she intrigued him. He wanted to see if her mouth tasted as good as it looked. Wanted to know what her lush body would feel like pressed against his.

  He tapped the card into his shirt pocket. There was about as much chance of that happening now as seeing pigs soaring over Wildwood.

  He’d get the paternity test. Then she’d tell him to get lost.

  * * *

  A FEW DAYS after her meeting with Nathan, Emma pulled out the certificate she’d found in one of Sonya’s boxes. It was an employee of the month award from the dean’s office at the College of Liberal Arts at the University of Illinois.

  It was the only thing that had shed any light on Sonya’s past.

  The letter Sonya had left for Emma hadn’t held any answers.

  Sonya had thanked Emma for taking care of Harley. Asked if she would consider adopting the girl if Nathan Devereux was unable to take care of her. Told her how much their friendship had meant to her. Asked her to tell Harley every day that her mother loved her.

  Nothing about Nathan and their connection.

  Maybe Nathan’s letter would have more information.

  Sighing, Emma set the certificate aside and opened her email. There was a message from Nathan. Curt and to the point, he’d informed her that he’d had the blood test done several days earlier. Since she would arrange for Harley’s test, he gave her the lab name and his account number and said that the lab would send her the results. He was confident she’d let him know as soon as she received them.

  He sounded pissed off. But if he was convinced he couldn’t be Harley’s father, that was understandable.

  She’d been thinking about him since the night she’d walked out of his restaurant. At first she’d been angry. She’d lumped him in with all the other men who’d tried to duck their responsibilities. All the jerks who denied they were the father of their longtime girlfriend’s baby.

  As she’d calmed down, though, she’d been able to see his point of view. If he really had no memory of Sonya, of course he’d be suspicious. Of course he’d deny he was Harley’s father.

  It didn’t say much for his morals if he’d slept with so many women that he couldn’t remember them all. But her job wasn’t to judge him. Her job was to establish if he was Harley’s father. And if he was, to then make sure he was the best choice to be her guardian.

  For a moment, she couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if Sonya hadn’t died. Would Nathan have called her? Would she have called him?

  Yes. She’d been attracted to him that night. And from the way he’d looked at her, he’d felt the same. If he hadn’t called first, she would have called him.

  What would have happened in the past month? Would they have connected on a deeper level, or found their attraction to be fleeting?

  She’d never know. Now they were adversaries. Harley stood between them—Emma wanted to adopt the girl, Nathan was her father. And attraction or not, she’d always choose Harley over Nathan.

  Tomorrow, she’d take Harley to have a blood sample taken. She’d tell her it was for school, but the thought of lying to Harley made her ill.

  Emma’s mother had lied to her on a regular basis, and Emma had sworn she’d never lie to a child of her own. She’d tell the truth, no matter how difficult.

  But there was no way she could tell the
girl why she was having blood drawn. Not yet.

  If Nathan was right, and he wasn’t her father, it would be cruel to put Harley through that emotional wringer.

  If it was true, there was no reason to tell her yet. Emma would need time to talk to Nathan. To find out how he wanted to proceed. Then she’d have to prepare Harley for the shock.

  In this situation, there were no simple answers.

  She still hated to lie.

  She wondered if her mother had ever had a twinge of conscience about lying to Emma. She suspected not.

  Just another reason why she’d be a very different parent than her own mother had been.

  * * *

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, as she and Harley sat in the crowded reception area of a local lab, Emma’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she saw an unfamiliar number. Probably work-related. She answered warily. “Emma Sloan.”

  “Emma, this is Peri. How are you?”

  Her stomach twisted and she glanced at Harley out of the corner of her eye. “Mom. I’m good. How are you?”

  Harley turned to stare at her, and Emma smiled reassuringly.

  It figured that when she was sitting here, obsessing over the lie she’d told Harley, her mother would call. Her mother’s new-age woo-woo mindset would claim she’d been able to tell Emma was thinking about her.

  Emma knew it was nothing more than really bad luck.

  “I’m wonderful,” her mother said. “Missing my baby girl.”

  “Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been really busy.” Before her mother could pursue it, she added, “What have you been up to?”

  “I met a man who owns an organic farm, and I’ve taken over his tomato plantings. I feel as if I’ve found my calling.”

  Periwinkle Sloan had found her calling many, many times before. There had been the yoga classes. The unfortunate organic cheese experiment.

  The alpaca farm had been particularly disastrous. She and Emma had had to sneak away in the middle of the night to avoid bill collectors and the angry farmer who’d leased them the land.

  “That’s good, Mom. I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I’d love for you to visit. Can you get away for a couple of weeks?”

  “Sounds like fun, but, like I said, I’m really busy right now.” She glanced over at Harley, who was listening avidly. “One of my best friends passed away, and I’m taking care of her daughter. So there’s no way I can leave.”

  “Bring the girl with you. She’ll enjoy the farm.”

  “Harley is in school, Mom. I can’t take her out for two weeks. And I have a job, too.”

  “Always so responsible, Emma.”

  Her mother made it sound like a moral failing. “Yeah, well, there are bills to pay. And lawyer’s fees.”

  “Lawyer’s fees? Are you in trouble?”

  “No.” She wrapped one arm around Harley and pulled her close. “I want to adopt Haley.” It was true. She just wasn’t sure it would be possible now. But she smiled at the girl, and Harley’s tense shoulders relaxed.

  “I’ll be a grandmother! How exciting.”

  Strategic mistake. “Not for a while. Adopting takes time.”

  “I can’t wait to tell my friends! A granddaughter!”

  “You’re not a grandmother yet, Mom. I’ll let you know what happens.” Emma glanced at her watch. “Listen, it’s been good talking to you. But I’m waiting for an appointment, and I think they’re about to call my name.” God! Was lying contagious, even over the phone?

  “Take care, Emma. And give my granddaughter a big kiss from me.”

  “I’ll do that.” It was easier to go along than to try and alter her mother’s perception of reality. “I’ll talk to you again soon.”

  She added her mother’s new number to her contact list, then dropped the phone in her bag.

  “Was that your mom?” Harley asked.

  “Yes, it was. She’s very excited to meet you.”

  “I never had a grandmother. Is she old? Does she have white hair and, like, granny shoes?”

  Emma wondered if Nathan’s parents were still alive. She took Harley’s hand. “The last time I saw her, her hair was bright red. The time before that, it was that burgundy color I’ve seen on some of the high school girls. She wears Birkenstock sandals, long floaty skirts and peasant blouses.”

  “She sounds like fun.”

  She probably was, if you weren’t related to her. “Maybe you’ll meet her someday,” Emma said lightly. “Right now, she’s busy on an organic farm. Growing tomatoes.”

  For Harley’s sake, if nothing else, Emma was glad she was nothing like her mother.

  * * *

  NATHAN SLOUCHED ON the leather couch in his living room, not paying a lot of attention to the football game. Frankie and Cal were here, along with Patrick, Darcy and Marco. Watching the game together on Monday nights had evolved into a tradition since Nathan’s injury.

  Cal had begun coming over on Sunday afternoons to watch the Cougars games with Nathan, to distract him from the misery of being stuck in a wheelchair. Once he was back working, they’d begun to get together on Monday nights, when the restaurant was closed.

  Tonight, most of Nathan’s attention was focused on his laptop. He was checking airfares to Italy, just as he’d done every week for the past few months. He was in the process of hiring a manager for Mama’s, and once this mess with the alderman and the loan was cleared up, once his leg was stronger, he was going away. He needed some time to himself. Some time to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Connecting with potential suppliers in Italy was a great excuse.

  As he clicked on a link to one of the international airlines, the doorbell rang. Nathan looked up at his siblings. “You guys invite someone else to watch the game?”

  “Nope.” “Uh-uh.” Cal hit the mute button on the remote as Nathan set his computer aside and headed for the door.

  A short, rail-thin man stood on the porch. The barest hint of gray stubble covered his head, as if he’d been shaving it and now it was growing out. He looked vaguely familiar, but Nathan couldn’t place him. He swung the door open. “Yes?”

  The man studied his face, as if assuring himself that he had the right person. “You’re Nathan Devereux.”

  “Yes. And you are...?”

  The guy shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet, but he didn’t look away. “My name is Peter Shaughnessy. I’m the driver who hit your parents’ car. The guy who killed them.”

  “What?” Nathan stared at him in disbelief. He hadn’t seen the man who killed their parents since the trial, but that guy had been seriously overweight, with a huge beer gut. He’d also had flaming red hair.

  Shaughnessy smoothed a hand over his head. “Yeah. I know I look different. Lost a lot of weight in prison, then I had liver problems.”

  “What do you want?” Nathan asked. By now, his siblings were standing behind him, staring at Shaughnessy. Frankie and Marco hadn’t gone to the trial. Nathan had tried to stop Patrick from going, as well, but he’d been driving their parents’ car when the accident happened and he’d insisted on watching.

  “Look, I know you don’t want nothing to do with me. I understand that. But I’m going through the program.” At Nathan’s puzzled look, he added, “A.A. And one of the things we have to do is apologize to the people we harmed with our drinking.” He straightened. “That would be all of you. I’m sorry for what happened that night. Sorry your parents were killed.�
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  “Fine.” Nathan’s face felt like stone. “You’ve apologized. Now don’t come here again.”

  He began to close the door but Shaughessy stuck his foot in. “Wait. There’s...there’s more stuff I need to tell you.”

  Nathan waited, but instead of speaking, the man glanced over his shoulder.

  “What? What stuff?” Nathan demanded.

  “Not now.” His voice trembled. “I gotta go. I think...I think they’re watching.”

  “What the hell...?”

  The man scurried down the steps and walked down the sidewalk, his head swiveling from side to side, until he was out of sight.

  Nathan slowly closed the door and turned to face his siblings. “You hear all that?”

  Marco was the first to speak. “The guy has the nerve to come here? To tell us he’s goddamned sorry?”

  Patrick’s eyes were narrowed. “What other ‘stuff’’ is he talking about? And who’s watching?” He stared at Nathan. “You have any idea? You were the one who dealt with the legal side of it.”

  “No. I don’t have a clue.” He’d tried to bury those memories as far down as he could.

  Patrick stepped outside onto the tiny porch, scanned the houses on the other side of the street. “I don’t see a damn thing.” He came inside and slammed the door. “Lucky I’m an FBI agent. We’ve got resources, and I’m going to use them.”

  “Good,” Nathan said. “Start with where Shaughnessy lives. Where he works. I need to talk to him.”

  * * *

  EMMA BEGAN WATCHING her mailbox at work. Five days later, as she returned late in the afternoon, she saw an envelope in her slot. Hands shaking, she pulled it out and glanced at it. The return address was Who’s Your Daddy.

  Dumping her purse and coat on the desk in her cubicle, she hurried to the only place she would have privacy. She locked the restroom door behind her.

  Her fingers shook as she lifted the flap. Pulled out the single sheet of paper. Read it.