by Jamie Beck
“Why not put him up there?”
“It’s rarely wise to let a defendant testify, especially one who could be easily misled and manipulated.” Ryan wiped his hands with a napkin and tossed it aside. “I wish we’d have found better evidence to exonerate him.”
“If only there weren’t so many rules about collecting it.” Billy grimaced.
The justice system afforded protections to all sides; however, Billy’s hacking talents and personal contacts could be useful in other ways. His brother was a cop, after all.
Ryan glanced around to make sure no one who knew them was in the vicinity, then lowered his voice. “Billy, I need a favor . . . a personal favor, but you’re free to say no. There’s no pressure.”
“Sounds intriguing.” Billy cocked a brow, waiting for the details.
This request could get Ryan sanctioned or fired. Maybe even disbarred. He hunched forward, partly covering his mouth. “I have a friend, Stefanie Lockwood. She was mugged in Hartford near the convention center sometime during late spring. I know there were police and hospital reports, but no suspects were apprehended.”
Billy’s brows lowered as he tried to figure out what Ryan wanted from him. “You want me to try to ID suspects?”
“No. She’s been having these . . . episodes . . . ever since the attack. She’s blaming it on the concussion, but I think there’s more to it. I think it has to do with stuff that happened. Stuff that might be mentioned in those reports that she isn’t telling anyone. Or possibly that she’s repressing.” Ryan maintained eye contact with Billy, whose sympathetic change in expression suggested he understood Ryan’s suspicion.
“Doesn’t she have the reports?” Billy sat back in his chair, gaze steady.
“She says she tossed them when she moved. I don’t know if that’s true. Whenever I try to bring up the incident, she shuts down and gets agitated. It’s important to her that everyone believes that she’s moved on and is ‘fine.’ I don’t know if I’m right, which is why I’d love proof before taking other steps.” Ryan wrung his hands together. “Between your brother and your special ‘skills,’ I thought maybe you could get your hands on the police report or hospital file. I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate.”
Billy drummed his fingers on the table. “Stefanie Lockwood is the victim’s name?”
Ryan nodded, clutching his stomach beneath the table.
“You can say no. In fact, you should say no.” Ryan pressed his palms to his eyes. “Forget I even asked. What the hell was I thinking? This is wrong on too many levels.”
“You’re a serious rule follower.” Billy balled up the sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the empty bag. “This girl must mean a lot to you for you to consider bending them.”
“Steffi’s my first love. We’re on the verge of something good now, but I’m worried about her behavior. And it could get worse the longer it goes untreated.” Not to mention how complicated any physical relationship would be if she didn’t start dealing with reality. “Being powerless is driving me crazy. If I had the facts, I could convince her to get help.”
“She sounds like the kind who’ll be pissed that you went behind her back. Maybe you should just tell her what you think.”
“What if I’m wrong and just stir up unnecessary stress? I need to know I’m right before I say anything.”
“It’s a dilemma. I’m sorry, Ryan.” Billy stood with his garbage in hand. “You’re in a tough spot.”
“She’s in a tough spot. If I’m tormented thinking of it, I can’t imagine what it’s doing to her. But I’ll figure something out without involving you. Sorry I even put you in that awkward position.” Ryan’s phone rang. “It’s my mom. Please, God, let’s not have another call from the principal’s office.” He motioned for Billy to go on without him. “Talk to you later.”
Ryan greeted his parents before climbing the stairs to change out of his work clothes, his mother’s earlier call weighing on his mind. For the first time during the course of the renovation project, Emmy had ignored Steffi. In essence, she’d ignored his lecture yesterday, too.
He’d been so smug when his daughter had rejected John. He’d actually felt a measure of vindication when that had ruined Val’s vacation plans. That admission made his face tingle with heat. His divorce wasn’t a zero-sum game. When Val lost, Emmy lost, too. There had to be some way they could move on separately, yet be united by mutual respect and love for their daughter.
He approached Emmy’s room and entered without knocking. “How was school today?”
“Boring.” Emmy sat on her bed, drawing on the sketch pad his mom had bought her. She barely spared him a glance. Her tongue poked out of her mouth while she concentrated on her work.
“What are you drawing?” He tipped the pad down to look at her sketch.
“A dress.” Emmy smiled. She thrust the page closer to him, revealing a triangular-shaped dress with a loud pink-and-blue zigzag pattern. The woman she’d drawn wore blue boots and a pink scarf. “I’m going to be a designer. Mommy says I have good taste.”
“You have great taste.” He kissed her head, smiling. Childhood dreams, unburdened by the weight of responsibility, made anything seem possible. If only that time lasted longer. “I think you get that from me,” he teased.
Emmy scanned him from head to toe, frowning at his outfit. “I don’t think so.”
“Ha ha!” He decided this conversation would be as good as any other opening into another discussion about Steffi. “The way you’ve been helping Steffi so much, I thought maybe you might like to be a builder.”
Emmy’s shoulders stiffened as she added some kind of blue fringe to the hem of the outfit she was designing. Her gaze remained on her work. She didn’t so much as huff or sigh, let alone respond.
“It looks like the new family room is almost done, huh?” he prodded. “Just needs some paint. Did you and Memaw pick out a color yet?”
“No. I don’t care what color it is.” She picked through the box of crayons and selected a dark-blue one. “I’m bored with helping.”
Ryan sat on the edge of the mattress. “Emmy, look at me.”
She sighed and stared up into his eyes from beneath her lashes, clutching a crayon until her knuckles turned white. He gently uncurled her fingers and set the crayon on the mattress.
“Why are you treating Steffi like she isn’t your friend? You liked her a lot up until Saturday.” He laid his hand near her legs but didn’t touch her.
“I didn’t like her a lot. I was just bored here by myself.”
Three “boreds” in two minutes. A new record. If she said it one more time, he might not be able to contain the frustrated growl forming in his chest.
“Don’t lie, Emmy. You liked working with her, and you invited her on our sailing trip. You made her think you were friends.” He rubbed her leg, suspecting Val had planted seeds of discontent. “And don’t blame this attitude on the fainting, because you were treating her badly before that happened. So what changed everything?”
“Nothing.”
He wound one arm around her shoulders. “I know you’ve been hoping that your mom and I will get back together. We’re both so sorry about the way things turned out, but we can’t stay married. When you’re older, you’ll understand better. But for now, even though you’re sad, you can’t punish me or Steffi . . . or your mom and John, for that matter. Life changes, and you have to be able to adapt. To roll with it.”
“That’s easy for you to say when you get to decide everything.” She set the sketch pad on her thighs and crossed her arms, eyes glittering with tears. “I want to go live with Mommy back in Boston. Can you ‘roll with it’?”
“That’s different.” He couldn’t catch his breath. Is that really what she wanted?
“Why? Why can’t I have a say? Why can’t we be a family again?” A tear rolled out of the corner of one eye.
His daughter’s pain hammered at his chest like a judge’s gavel, condemning him for all the m
istakes he’d made as a husband and father. He was supposed to ease her pain, not cause it. Her tears might as well be acid for how they burned his heart. He supposed there would be many types of torture a father would undergo throughout life, and he didn’t particularly look forward to learning more. When he tried to hug her, she fought him.
“Emmy, I’m doing the best I can, but I won’t lie and tell you what you want to hear. Your mom and I weren’t happy together, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you. And that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy again. We’d never bring anyone new into your life that would hurt you. Steffi cares about you and wants to make your life better in any way she can,” he said. “I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I care about her. I think the three of us could have fun if you stay open. Can’t you try, sweetheart?”
A broken voice cried. “Mommy left me for John, and now you’re picking Steffi over me.”
“Oh, sweetie.” He tugged her against his chest. If he squeezed her hard enough, would it strangle her sense of rejection so it didn’t change her on some elemental level? “That’s not true. Nobody . . . nobody matters more to me than you. I love you with every cell in my body. But just like you might get a little lonely and want friends, I need grown-up friends, too. And Steffi is more than a friend, or a special friend. She makes me feel . . . hopeful.”
Emmy broke free and flopped back onto her pillows to stare at the ceiling, arms still crossed.
Ryan sighed and watched his daughter pout until she squeezed her eyes shut. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I’ll go change and let you think about what I’ve said. I know you have a good heart. We’ll all be happier if you use it to be kinder to Steffi and John. In the meantime, maybe you and I can plan a special father-daughter day on Saturday. Would you like to shop for a small sewing machine and fabric so you can try making some of these creations? Anything you want, princess. Just name it.”
One of her eyelids popped open.
“Can we buy a puppy?” She sat up. Wily one, she was. Plucking his heartstrings with the finesse of a concert cellist.
“What?”
“I promise to take care of it. Please, Daddy. I would be happier if I had a puppy.” She rose to her knees and folded her hands in prayer.
Val had never allowed pets in the house. He couldn’t ask his parents to suffer through puppyhood, but maybe once he got his own place, he’d consider it.
“I’ll tell you what. Show me that you can be responsible and kind, and then when we get our own place, we can seriously consider getting a puppy.” Before he rose, he added, “Cats are easier.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Cats aren’t fun.”
“You’ve got a point.” He ruffled her hair, then ambled out of her room, wondering whether he’d made another mistake by striking that deal without more thought. Then again, right now he’d do anything to make her feel loved.
As he strolled the hallway, his thoughts turned to Steffi, as they often did these days. He closed his bedroom door and dialed her number.
“Hey, Ryan.”
He smiled upon hearing her voice. “You sound out of breath.”
“Rick—from my crew—and I just finished installing a new structural beam where we’ve opened up part of a wall in the Hightop Road house. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I heard you didn’t get a chance to talk to Emmy today.”
“No, but she’ll come around. Don’t push her. I get her . . . it needs to be on her terms.”
How alike his daughter and Steffi were in that way. “Thanks for being patient.”
“Once in a while, I get it right,” she joked. “I hate to cut this short, but I promised Rick we’d be done by seven.”
“How about dinner tomorrow?” Ryan kicked off his shoes and stretched his legs out on his mattress.
“I close on the Weber house in the morning and planned to start demo after I leave your mom’s. Order pizza and come help me.”
“You’re determined to make me fall in love with that house,” he chuckled.
“Among other things, yes.”
His heart skipped. In love with Steffi Lockwood . . . again. Little did she know that she didn’t have to work too hard to make that happen. “Okay. Pizza, beer, and a sledgehammer. The makings of an interesting date.”
“Makes me harder to replace.”
“That it does.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow!”
He set the phone on the nightstand and breathed a relieved sigh. He’d figure out how to make all the women in his life happy. Even Val, whom he probably did owe more than he wanted to admit.
As for Steffi, somehow he’d find a way to help her recover the part of herself that had been destroyed last spring.
They’d come so far in such a short time, despite the past and the mistakes and pain they each carried around like a pack mule. Every corner of his soul believed that they belonged together, and together they would heal.
Chapter Twenty
“What did you tell Mick?” Steffi asked Molly as they walked into Gretta Weber’s lawyer’s office.
“You think he asked where I was going?” Molly chuckled. “Honey, trust me, after thirty-seven years together, he avoids me when I’m busy in the morning so he gets out of being asked to help.”
“So you’re saying you’ve got a system.” Steffi smiled.
“A good system—the key to a lasting marriage.” Molly winked.
“Thank you a million times over for this short-term loan. I don’t feel great about keeping the secret from Ryan, but I’m hopeful when this is all done, he’ll be able to buy the place.”
“I have a good feeling.” Molly sounded as if she might have another trick up her sleeve, but Steffi chose not to ask. Molly had her own way of doing things, and Steffi enjoyed the surprise of letting it unfold.
Gretta stood when they entered the windowless conference room. She introduced them to her lawyer, and within thirty minutes, they signed all the documents and funded the purchase.
“Thank you so much for selling this house to me, Gretta. I’m going to turn it into a little gem, you’ll see.” Steffi shook her hand again.
“I’m glad to see it go to someone who loved it as much as my mom did.” Gretta’s dewy eyes sparkled. “Dementia is awful. She hates the nursing home, but she couldn’t live alone safely, and I’m still working full-time, so I can’t move her into my tiny place with my husband, two cats, and a dog, either.”
“This is best, Gretta. Your mom wouldn’t want to turn your whole life upside down.” Molly gave her a neighborly hug. “My kids know I never want to be a burden. When I’m too old and sick to take care of myself, I understand where I belong. As long as they love me, that’s all I need.”
“I hope my mom understands. It’s hard to tell . . . her moods shift. She can be mean.”
Steffi couldn’t help but relate to Gretta’s mom and the sense of vulnerability and panic that accompanies mental lapses.
“Fear can make us mean. Don’t take it personally,” Molly suggested. “I’ll stop by and visit her this week.”
“She’d love that, Molly.” Gretta dug her keys out of her purse. “Well, I’d better get on with the day. Good luck with the renovations.”
Steffi shook off her personal concerns. “Come by anytime and check on the progress, Gretta. I’d love to see what you think when I’m all finished.”
“I will, you can count on that.” She smiled.
They all exited the law offices together. Then Molly and Steffi waved Gretta off.
“See you at your house.” Steffi jangled her new house keys and shoved them into her pocket before opening the van door.
“I think I’ll bring home some doughnuts to throw Mick off any scent he might have.” Molly smiled. “Toodles!”
Steffi nearly trembled from the thrill of owning the Weber house. Her childhood dream come true, right there in black and white on the deed. She was half tempted to play lotto—her only chance of buying the
house for herself.
When she got to the Quinn house, she lugged the paint cans out of the back of the van. After she painted the family room, Claire would have the drapes installed and new furnishings delivered by the end of the week.
In her career, she’d worked on more complex and challenging projects, but none had produced so many positive changes in her life. Happiness bubbled inside, thanks to her good fortune. To be reunited with Ryan and the Quinns. To become acquainted with Emmy, which had been a pure pleasure until this weekend. To see a future filled with hope. All because of good timing and Molly’s scheming.
As she stood there with the sunlight pouring through the windows, warming her skin, Steffi wished she could build something to contain all her joy so it wouldn’t disappear.
“Oh, this shade of gray is almost pearlescent. It’s perfect! Look at how well it goes with the stone floor. I can’t wait to get the area rug down. We picked a gorgeous Surya blue-and-gray Tibetan carpet.” Claire glanced around the space as if mentally placing the charcoal corduroy sectional, reclaimed-wood coffee table, and nickel-coated standing lamps she’d chosen. “It’ll be cozy yet elegant. Molly will love it.”
“I’m glad you’re satisfied with the color. I was worried it wouldn’t have enough oomph for you.”
“It’s exactly what I wanted. Is Molly here?” Claire asked. “I have a painting and wall hanging in the car for her approval.”
“I’m right here,” Molly called from a corner of the kitchen not visible from the family room. “Should I come take a look now?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind. I can return them before the stores close if you don’t like either.” Claire took her keys from her purse.
“Let’s have a look.” Molly followed Claire out the back door.
Steffi had finished cleaning the sprayer and sealing the paint cans when she heard Emmy go into the kitchen. She thought to invite Emmy in to see the progress but decided to wait her out. She might not have a lot of experience with kids, but they were just little people. All people had a lot in common when it came to trust and friendship. One thing Steffi did know was that those two things must be earned, not forced.