I Love You to Pieces

by Lori Flynn

  Catherine’s misery cloaked her like a weight. She held her breath, her tears, and her granddaughter’s hand. Olivia stood beside her stoically, her hair drawn uncharacteristically to the nape of her neck with the reading glasses, which rarely left her room, perched at the bridge of her nose.

  The minister recited verses intended to comfort. And although the netting of Elizabeth’s hat dipped over her eyes, her relaxed posture and satisfied slow smile made it seem as if a weight had been lifted from her ankle. Catherine stared in disgust as she paused to wipe the rain from the stiletto heel of her Christian Louboutin after placing a single white rose on the casket.

  A steady stream of family and friends came and paid their respects throughout the day and lingered over a buffet set up in the sunroom. The sun itself was a no-show. Catherine prayed for it to end. The Harding family attorney leading her to the library for the reading of the will wasn’t an improvement.

  From behind the mahogany desk, Jonathan Tate pulled at his tie, choking back tears. His small stature seemed further diminished by the slump of his shoulders.

  “Good evening. Alexander asked me to join him on his trip to the Bahamas to revise several documents, his will included. I was fortunate to have spent a few of his last days with him.” He raked his hand through his dark hair. “Alexander suggested I return early to finalize them.”

  Catherine shifted her eyes to Elizabeth, hearing her gasp. She almost grinned.

  Jonathan Tate sighed deeply and began the formal reading reserved for the immediate family. “Alexander compiled a list of paintings and other pieces of artwork he knew you admired, Catherine. He also wants you to have the contents of his office safe and has prepared a DVD for you to view when you’re ready.”

  Catherine’s overwhelming grief held her in her chair, grasping her granddaughter’s hand. She couldn’t fully comprehend all she’d heard.

  The attorney continued without hesitation, his hands clasped on the desk. “Elizabeth, if you choose, you may continue to reside here at the main house. You’ll receive a modest monthly allowance. Should you remarry, this agreement will terminate.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. “Room and board, are you kidding me? I didn’t sign a prenup. Modest allowance, my ass.”

  “Harding Enterprises and everything it comprises belong to Catherine and will be placed in trust until Olivia’s twenty-first birthday,” Jonathan interrupted. “I assure you, your allowance will be in proportion with Alexander’s reported net worth.”

  “Reported by whom? This is bullshit.” She looked at Catherine. “What are you grinning at?”

  Catherine shook her head. “Not much. I set my finances up this way, so I could protect my empire from gold-diggers like you. It’s called foresight—look it up.”

  Before Catherine could devote another thought to her daughter-in-law, Olivia stood, brushing by her as she exited the library. Catherine caught up with her at the base of the stairs, with Nanny standing close by her side.

  “Are you feeling all right, Olivia?” Catherine asked.

  “Just tired, I’m going to bed.”

  Nanny reached over, giving Catherine’s shoulder a rub. “I’ll help her up. You take care of yourself now.”

  Catherine nodded, grief having drained her energy. She knew Nanny was right; she needed time. “I’ll be at Casa Nonna.”

  *

  On her knees in her gardens, Catherine worked through her pain. By weeding and mulching the flower beds, she labored until she was too exhausted to cry. Her crew of gardeners knew to keep their distance.

  “There’s a phone call for you, Mrs. Harding,” said Sarah, a longtime housekeeper. “I thought at first it was Miss Olivia, but then she asked to speak to Olivia’s grandmother.”

  She brushed off the soil and hurried into the house, followed closely by Sarah. “This is Catherine. Who’s this?” She waited through anxious moments of silence, followed by several quick breaths.

  “You have to come and help Olivia,” a small voice whispered.

  “Of course, I’ll come. But why does she need help? Who are you? Where’s Nanny?”

  “Elizabitch locked her in the little room in the attic, and her jar is almost full. Nanny’s gone. Will you help her or not?”

  “I will, but what room are you talking about? Can’t you get her out?”

  “No, Olivia’s too scared,” said the small voice before breaking the connection.

  Catherine tried Nanny’s cell as she hurriedly ambled to the garage, and again while she backed her Jaguar down the long drive. It went straight to voicemail. The car, a birthday gift from her son, responded quickly, allowing her to concentrate on her present emergency. Her gardening gloves gave her courage.

  She arrived at the main house and was joined in the foyer by the butler, James, as well as maids, Maria and Christian Garcia. “I need answers, and I need them fast.” Painstakingly, she searched their faces.

  Maria’s confession erupted without the benefit of a breath. “She told us not to bother you because you were still mourning. She said she would take care of it, that it was just a misunderstanding, and she would be home soon. When she didn’t come back, we didn’t know what to do.”

  Catherine swallowed hard. “I trust you’re talking about Nanny. Please, someone, start at the beginning.”

  Christian clutched his wife’s hand and stepped forward to face Catherine. She knew him as a young, soft-spoken, sincere man. “Nanny was taken away by officers questioning her papers. I overheard them accusing her about some missing household items.”

  “Nonsense,” Catherine said. “I accompanied Nanny to Immigration, just as I did with the two of you when you first emigrated from Cuba. Her papers are in perfect order. As for her stealing from me, that’s hogwash. When did this happen?”

  “It was late on Friday evening,” Maria said. “Nanny asked me to stay with Olivia, and I did until the following morning when Mrs. Elizabeth informed me she was taking her daughter away for a long weekend at the spa.”

  Elizabeth had devised a way to separate Nanny from Olivia. With her grandchild missing for nearly three days, Catherine’s chest tightened.

  When she told of the phone call she’d received, they assured Catherine there weren’t any children visiting the household staff that could be responsible.

  “Then just who called me and what about the attic? I’m not aware of any little rooms up there,” Catherine said.

  “Could she be talking about that area over the servant’s entrance?” Maria asked. “You remember, Christian, those storage rooms in the west wing that aren’t used for much anymore. I found them when Mrs. Elizabeth had me searching for that old trunk. She made you carry it down for her.”

  “Take me there, and pray we’re not too late,” Catherine pleaded.

  “Hold on, if it’s locked, you’ll need this,” James said, handing Catherine an oversized brass skeleton key. “It should fit any lock on the floor.”

  Catherine followed Christian and Maria up a series of staircases to the west wing. They hurriedly employed the key, opening the doors to the first three rooms, discovering only old crates and boxes. The fourth room was considerably smaller, no larger than a jail cell. It contained a narrow window on one wall, a small bed pushed against the other. Motionless on her side, in the center of the small bed, was Olivia.

  Catherine rushed into the room, falling to her knees checking for a pulse. Her grieving heart broke discovering the dried tears stained on Olivia’s taut face. Cradling her granddaughter, she caught sight of a jar sitting in a dark corner of the room filled to the brim with urine. Her questions would wait. Olivia’s survival was her priority.

  “Christian, Maria, I need you to help me bring Olivia to Casa Nonna and to stay with her while I see about getting Nanny back. Can I count on you?”

  “Our loyalty has always been with you,” Christian said, gently cradling Olivia to his chest, carrying her from the room.

  “James, call a doctor and have him
meet us at Casa Nonna,” Catherine said when they’d reached the foyer, as she pressed the skeleton key in his hand.

  “I’ll take care of it, immediately, Mrs. Harding.”

  Maria rushed into the room, hauling several bottles of water. “Let’s go,” she said heading out the door.

  The Jaguar exited the long drive from the main house as rapidly as it had arrived. Christian kept watching in the rearview mirror while Maria hydrated Olivia. Catherine pressed her palm to her heart as she drove. It was clear the battle to save Olivia was far from over.

  Chapter Eight

  Catherine

  While the doctor performed a comprehensive exam on Olivia, Catherine paced and breathed in relief with his positive report. She thanked him for his professionalism before paying him handsomely for his discretion. As Olivia slept, with Maria sitting by her side, Catherine hurriedly changed from her gardening clothes and prepared to find Nanny.

  Several calls brought her to the office of Captain Howard Roberts. The mention of her name expedited her progress, and she found herself settled in a timeworn chair on the visitor side of his busy desk. As she studied his snow-white hair and weathered face, she decided he was oddly appealing.

  “I apologize for my department’s involvement in this. We received a call from a Mrs. Harding about an illegal working in her home that she caught stealing. We’ve dropped all charges,” he said with absolute sincerity. “Nanny is free to go; in fact, she’ll be here momentarily.”

  The women exited the station with their heads held high. They strolled through the parking lot until Nanny, noticing Catherine’s Jaguar, frowned and came to a stop.

  “Oh Lord, haven’t I been through enough? Where’s your driver? You know the way you drive makes me nervous. It makes everyone nervous.”

  Rolling her eyes, Catherine waved Nanny off, as they got in the car. “I was on a rescue mission, and this was faster. I don’t have a three-point harness and helmet for you, but I promise to drive under the speed limit. There’s something at Harding Enterprises I need to pick up before we head home. It’ll be easier if you’re with me. But first, it’s imperative I reach Jonathan Tate.” She searched her purse for her cell phone.

  Nanny squeezed her eyes shut. “Why would you talk on your phone while you’re driving? You could go off a cliff and take me down with you.”

  “There aren’t any cliffs in this part of the country; it’s completely flat. Unless I drive up a landfill, which I don’t plan on doing, we’re safe.”

  When they returned to Casa Nonna, they found Olivia on the veranda with Maria while Christian guarded the perimeter, close by. Without hesitation, Olivia opened her arms to Nanny, sobbing inconsolable tears.

  “I’m sorry, Nanny, so sorry.”

  “Whatever are you talking about child?” Nanny said.

  “Mother told me it was my fault the policemen took you. She said you weren’t allowed to be in this country. You stayed because you love me. And anyone who loves me either dies or goes away like Zander, Miley, Domino and—my daddy.”

  Nanny pulled Olivia into her generous arms while meeting Catherine’s eyes. “How did you get locked in the room in the attic?”

  “Mother told me to wait there and be quiet. She said she would try to free you before they put you in jail forever. I did what she said, but she never came back.”

  “Someone called your grandmother to help you. Who could that have been?”

  “I don’t know, Nanny. Only mother knew where I was.”

  With a nod toward Nanny, Catherine entrusted her to correct the lies. She retreated to her home office to tackle the task she could no longer put off.

  Catherine braced herself to view the DVD her son had made. Kissing her fingers, she touched them to her son’s face, frozen on the screen. When it ended, she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand and waited for her chin to stop trembling.

  When she left her office, she knew what she had to do. Standing in the entrance to the veranda were a host of distinguished professionals. Assembled by her attorney, they were there to take part in the effort to protect Olivia.

  “Jonathan, thank you for coming; your timing is perfect,” Catherine said, approaching him. The thought crossed her mind of how he must love his suits, considering she couldn’t recall seeing him attired in anything else. She’d started to wonder if he’d slept in them when he spoke.

  “You knew I would. I trust you’ve watched the DVD and understand what Alexander intended to do had he been able?”

  “Yes, I also removed what he wanted me to have from his safe at Harding Enterprises.”

  “In light of the events of the past week, I believe we should begin immediately. Olivia’s life may depend on it,” Jonathan told Catherine.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she said and followed him to the water’s edge where Olivia examined a brightly colored shell while Nanny hovered close by.

  “Olivia,” Jonathan said, “I brought some people to speak to you.”

  “Can I keep Nanny with me?”

  “Of course you can, if that would make you more comfortable.”

  Interviews took place throughout the day. Hours later, when Olivia was asleep, Catherine and Nanny settled on the darkened veranda while the balmy breezes lifted their hair. On the table between them sat a key lime pie, prepared by the cook to celebrate Nanny’s return, along with two fresh mugs of coffee.

  “Now we sit and wait until the doctors and attorneys compile their data to determine our next move. If they feel Olivia would make a good witness, we may end up in court,” Catherine said, narrowing her eyes as Nanny sliced two generous pieces of pie, placing one in front of her. “I hate to be a kill-joy, but didn’t your doctor tell you to watch your sugar?”

  “I’ll watch it tomorrow. Besides, how thrilled would your cardiologist be with that mug of caffeine at this hour?” Nanny returned. “I’m praying Mr. Tate has another plan, you know, just in case Olivia isn’t up to a trial.”

  “Why do you say that?” Catherine asked. The answer would keep her awake, not the coffee. After all, it had been Nanny with Olivia during the questioning.

  “The attorneys allowed me to listen in, but it was different with the psychiatrist and the psychologist. They asked her to go for a walk or sit in the garden, and she was comfortable with it. What worries me is what she said when they left.”

  “What was that?”

  “She asked me to tell her about her father’s funeral,” Nanny said.

  What Catherine felt in her chest then wasn’t the effect of the caffeine, but the realization that saving Olivia would require more than she’d thought.

  *

  In what was only days, but felt like weeks, Catherine’s staff notified her Jonathan Tate paced her office.

  “Decisions need to be made. Let’s begin.” He organized documents on Catherine’s desk.

  “I would offer you coffee, Jonathan, but it seems you’ve had enough.”

  He exhaled with force. “Beginning on a positive note, our team found Olivia to have above average intelligence, which her school records verified. I sent her medical history along with copies of her X-rays to three physicians. They all concur with Dr. Santos. We also spoke with the staff members at the main house as well as your staff here at Casa Nonna.”

  Catherine crossed her arms over her chest. “Tate, I’m not getting any younger. Tell me what I don’t want to hear.”

  “From the X-rays and reports Alexander was able to procure and stash in his safe, there’s no question this is a case of child abuse. Unfortunately, the physicians agree Olivia could never testify. They feel she’s blocked the memories.”

  He coughed and then continued, with Catherine’s glare urging him on.

  “And while they suspected, the staff never actually saw Elizabeth harm Olivia. Child abusers are notoriously devious. I’m afraid, should we haul her into court, Elizabeth’s attorney may turn around and accuse you or Nanny as the abuser. You should know that when she caug
ht wind we were asking questions, Elizabeth made it known you’re not getting your hands on her meal ticket. She plans to fight.”

  Catherine paced the room. There had to be a solution, one that wouldn’t end with her killing Elizabeth herself. She was far too busy to end up on Florida’s death row. The longer she thought, the clearer it became.

  “Jonathan, I believe I have a plan. It’s risky, but I know how this lower life form thinks.” She rubbed her hands together with such force, she expected smoke. “Elizabeth doesn’t want Olivia. She sees her as a money maker. And as long as her daughter’s living with me, it makes her look like an unfit mother on the society page. That’s Elizabeth’s bible, most likely because they use big pictures and few words.”

  “She won’t live with me. I’ll get her further away from Elizabeth, just to be safe, and find the perfect school so that predator can’t touch her. To sweeten the deal, I’ll double the allowance Alexander provided,” she said, pounding her fist against the table.

  Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “What happens if she laughs in your face? We aren’t prepared to take this to court, Catherine.”

  “Olivia’s highly intelligent; her mother’s a mushroom. Elizabeth is unaware of our dilemma. She only knows her guilt, what she’s done to her daughter. If we threaten her with prison, maybe we have a chance without court. What do you think? Is it legal?” Catherine asked.

  “Legal?” he said, placing his hands in his pockets. “Yes. Is it ethical? I don’t think that word applies when you’re dealing with child abusers. We should do it as soon as possible. She won’t stay away long.”

  “James informed me Elizabeth would be in Vegas until the end of the week. I say we’re there waiting for her when she gets back.” Catherine pressed her lips with cautious hope. “Jonathan, make sure every document is perfect and above reproach. We’re only going to get one shot at this.”

  Chapter Nine

  Elizabeth

  “Your presence is requested in the library,” the butler greeted Elizabeth as she entered the foyer.