by Ingrid Thoft
Chloe shook her head. “My mother is too focused on the theology. I don’t agree with every aspect of the church, but at least they actually do things for other people. That’s what’s important to me. And since when do worshippers have to believe in everything their church espouses? How many Catholics don’t use birth control?”
Fina smiled. “But Catholics are usually born into the faith.”
“I suppose, but faith is complicated and highly personal.”
“Your mom mentioned the pastor,” Fina said, deciding to head down a different path.
Chloe frowned. “Pastor Greg. She’s made it very clear she doesn’t like him.”
“Why do you think that is?” Fina asked.
“She thinks he’s sexist and bossy and that people idolize him, in the true sense of the word.”
“Do they?”
Chloe shook her head. “He’s a leader, and sometimes leaders have to take unpopular stands. With the exception of the Quakers, every religion has spiritual leaders, other than God, I mean.”
“Sure, but those leaders are supposed to be middlemen, right? Not objects of worship.”
“It’s not like that. Pastor Greg knows so much about scripture and applies it to everyday life. You should hear him speak. He’s inspiring.”
“I’d love to hear him speak.”
Chloe’s face lit up. “Join me at services. You’ll see that my mother’s fears are unfounded. Covenant Rising is about love and service and living the scripture.” She placed her teacup on the tray and rested her long fingers in her lap. “My mom just can’t accept that I’ve chosen a different path. She can’t accept that I’m my own person.”
“I know something about that,” Fina said. “My brothers are lawyers, and I was supposed to be one, too.”
“What happened?” Chloe asked.
“I flunked out of law school. I didn’t really apply myself,” she confessed.
“But you still work for your father, right? That must make him happy.”
Fina smiled dubiously. “It’s hard to know what makes him happy, but I can promise you he would be happier if I’d graduated and passed the bar. What does your father think about the church?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t approve, but he’s in Paris so it doesn’t really matter what he thinks. The family company is based there, and he and my sister are, too.”
Neither Ceci nor Chloe had been explicit about the state of Ceci’s marriage, but the long-distance nature of it suggested that perhaps it wasn’t a strong union.
Chloe sat back in her chair. “I’m glad my mom hired you. Come with me to church, and I’ll introduce you to people. You can see for yourself how special it is.”
Fina grinned. “Are you trying to convert me, Chloe?”
“Maybe,” she said with a hint of a smile. “At the very least, you can help me reassure my mom that I know what I’m doing, and that what I’m doing is a good thing.”
Fina didn’t respond.
Chloe’s willingness to fling open the doors of Covenant Rising could be seen as a good thing: Obviously, she didn’t feel the organization had anything to hide. Or it could mean that the church’s secrets were well hidden, and she’d been dazzled by the smoke and mirrors.
Fina wouldn’t know which was true until she went to church.
Lord have mercy.
• • •
Christa Jackson glanced at her watch.
Damn.
Ten more minutes.
She was a terrible mother. Her daughter McKenna struggled with the words on the page, tripping and stumbling, trying to skip over them in the hope that her mom wouldn’t notice.
“Usually,” Christa finally said, tracing the word with her finger.
“Usually,” her daughter repeated, the word sounding like a distant relative to Christa’s version.
They made slow progress, and Christa could barely suppress her sigh of relief when the kitchen timer started ringing.
McKenna hopped off the couch and ran into the other room where her sisters were watching TV. The other girls had already finished their homework and were transfixed by a home decorating show on HGTV.
Christa got up from the table and studied them from the doorway. They were slumped on the couch—a foot here, an arm there, a splayed ponytail in between. She was always amazed by the fluidity of boundaries that separated them. One minute they’d be on top of one another like puppies, and the next, they’d be clawing at one another like kittens.
“Fifteen more minutes, girls, then it’s time for brushing and reading.”
Her middle child, Nicole, liked to read on her own, but McKenna and Tamara still liked to curl up next to her, one under each arm, for a story or a chapter before bed. It was Christa’s favorite part of the day; she only wished that after turning off their lights she could go to her room and read a book or spend some quality time with Paul. Instead, she had to fold laundry, pick up wayward shoes, and pack lunches. Paul was no help since he was always at class or studying at the dining room table. She didn’t blame him for not pitching in more. He was just as tired as she was, and the night-school MBA would benefit the whole family, but still. Christa couldn’t help but feel that every moment of her day was spent supporting and furthering other people, while she stayed in the same place.
In the kitchen, she glanced through the notices she’d pulled from the girls’ backpacks. Did she and her brother do this much stuff when they were younger? School chorus, soccer, gymnastics, Brownies. Sometimes she worried that her children would grow up with a host of specialized skills, but not know the first thing about moving through the world as functioning human beings. Who cares if you’re a competitive chess player—at the age of six, no less!—if you’re sleep deprived and a ball of stress? She tried to limit their activities, but was embarrassed to admit how much pressure she felt from the other parents. Christa already sensed she was at a disadvantage—with no college education and an eldest child who’d clearly been born before Christa was out of her teens. She knew she had more sense than a lot of her peers, but she still felt like an outsider.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and made room for it on the dining room table amid the file folders and paperwork crowding the surface. She needed to prep for the meeting with McKenna’s classroom teacher, Mrs. Bay. She was well aware that her daughter required extra attention and took the teacher away from the other children, but it wasn’t McKenna’s fault. She shouldn’t be punished because her brain didn’t work the same as the other kids, but Christa knew that if a classmate was taking teaching time away from Nicole or Tamara, she’d be annoyed and advocate on their behalf. You do the best you can for your kid, but Christa could have done without Mrs. Bay’s impatience and the edge that seemed to creep into the phone messages she left with increasing frequency.
Peeking out from beneath the pile of papers was the corner of a glossy brochure. Christa hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering, but then gave in and tugged on the paper. There was a slight wrinkle across the bottom, which irked her for a moment before shame flooded in. It was just a piece of paper, after all. The pictures showed a bucolic setting, but it was the implied promises that made her reach for it again and again.
Everything would be better—easier—there. It was the portal to a better life, and she would do just about anything to step through it.
THREE
Fina paced her brother Scotty’s office to the sound of the pinball machine’s incessant dinging. The lights flashed, and Fina watched the digital scoreboard climb.
“I’m heading for a new high score,” Scotty announced, jamming the buttons that activated the flippers.
“Doesn’t that thing have a volume button?” Normally, the noise wouldn’t bother her, but Fina was on edge in anticipation of her conversation with her brothers.
“It’s not as much fun with the sound
turned down,” Scotty said. “It’s Saturday. Things are a little looser around here.”
“Hey.” Their brother Matthew walked into the room and plopped down on the sofa. Single, handsome, and rich, there were a lot of women in Boston who’d like to keep company with Matthew. He had a dimple on his cheek that made him seem boyish when he smiled and dashing when he didn’t. If he weren’t her brother, Fina would have difficulty resisting his charms, but he was her brother, and therefore she had no trouble at all.
“Why’d I get the bill for your security sweep?” he asked Fina.
Matthew was taking the lead on a recent high-profile case she had investigated, a lawsuit against New England University for sports-related brain injuries. The publicity associated with the case—and the real or imagined challenge to college athletics—had brought out the crazies, and Fina had received some colorful hate mail.
“Because it’s your case,” she said, grabbing Scotty’s hands. “But my name is in the paper, so everybody sends their complaints to me.”
“Hey!” Scotty objected.
Fina glared at him. “We have things to discuss.”
“Since when are you afraid of a little controversy?” Matthew asked.
Scotty abandoned the game and took a seat. Fina sat down next to Matthew, tucking her feet underneath her on the sofa. “I’m not, and I’m not afraid of the death threats, but it’s inconvenient. I needed help weeding out the whackadoodles from the ones who seemed more action-oriented.” She brushed a stray hair away from her face. “What’s the date on the bill, though? The last review was a month ago, and I called off the extra measures.”
Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Sue.” The assistants at Ludlow and Associates were the keepers of all information.
“It would be bad if you got hurt,” Scotty said.
“Gee, thanks,” Fina said. “That sounded really heartfelt.”
“It’d be great for the case, though,” Matthew added.
Fina swatted at him.
Her brothers were all high-flying attorneys, although Rand had been exiled to Miami due to his bad behavior. Scotty and Matthew were the true heirs apparent, and although she’d flunked out of law school, Fina’s job as the firm’s primary investigator suited her to a T.
Scotty leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “So what do we need to talk about?”
Fina glanced at her brothers. “Rand is back.”
Scotty sunk back in the leather club chair. “Since when?”
“Since Thursday.”
“How’d you find out?” Matthew asked.
“I have my sources, and Dad confirmed it.”
“Dad knows?” Scotty asked.
“Not only does he know, he’s completely on board.”
Scotty shook his head. “We’ve got to do something.”
“I did do something, remember? But apparently, it wasn’t enough.”
The Ludlows had agreed that turning Rand over to the police and forcing Haley into the public eye was a bad idea. But while Carl seemed content to keep him around, Fina couldn’t stand it. Since the knowledge that Rand had sexually abused his daughter didn’t prove compelling enough for Carl to banish his son from the family, Fina scrounged up more damning information. The threat of exposure had prompted Carl to send him to Florida. She didn’t know why the dirt was no longer keeping him away.
“Can’t you just do more of what you did?” Scotty asked.
“I don’t think it’s going to work that way,” Fina said. “I’ll have a conversation with Dad, but something has changed. I’ll tell you what hasn’t changed, our brother is still a perverted creep.”
“This is bad, Fina,” Scotty said. “Haley’s not doing so great, and if Rand shows up on our doorstep that will undo the progress she’s made since he left.”
“I know.” She looked at Matthew. “Why are you so quiet?”
He smoothed his hands down the front of his pants. “Well, it’s early days, but I’ve started seeing someone.”
“What does that have to do with Rand?” Scotty asked.
Matthew’s gaze ping-ponged between his siblings. “She has a kid. A young daughter.”
“And you don’t want Rand around her,” Fina said.
“I don’t want him around either of them.”
Fina was relieved that Matthew was taking the Rand situation seriously, but also a little annoyed that it took another child to awaken his protective spirit. Why hadn’t everyone in the family been more outraged when Haley’s abuse came to light?
“So what’s the plan?” Scotty asked.
“Why are you looking at me?”
He shrugged.
“If we’re going to put an end to this,” Fina said, “we need to be a united front.”
“What do you have in mind?” Matthew asked.
“No idea.”
“We’re not going to be able to do anything,” Scotty noted, “if Dad isn’t on our side.”
“Can someone explain to me why Dad insists on defending him?” Fina asked.
“Rand is his kid,” Scotty said. “Dad’s just being protective like any parent would.”
“That feeble argument aside, we need to figure out how to get rid of him.”
Scotty swallowed. “When you say ‘get rid of him,’ do you mean . . .”
“Oh, I’d consider killing him if I thought I could get away with it,” Fina said. “But I’d be the number one suspect, and contrary to what we see on TV, prison isn’t actually a wonderful bonding experience where you spend all your time making cosmetics from food products.”
“Unless he’s convicted of something—if he could even be arrested—he’s always going to be a problem,” Matthew said.
“Which would suggest that using the criminal justice system is the best bet,” Fina said.
Scotty raised his hand. “Hold on. We need to think very carefully about this.”
“That’s what we’re doing,” she said.
“The fallout would be huge.”
“What are you suggesting, Scotty?” Fina asked. “Doing nothing?”
“Absolutely not, but this doesn’t just affect you, Fina.”
“That’s my whole point. Rand leaves a path of destruction in his wake, and we need to do something about it.”
“And when you go to the police? What happens to the firm?” he asked.
“Nothing happens to the firm, except that the sociopath pedophile is no longer an employee.”
“What do you think?” Scotty asked Matthew.
Matthew ran his hand over his face. “We’re assuming that it’s our choice, that we’ll always be in control of the information. What if it gets out some other way? What if people find out we’ve been protecting a pedophile?”
“Exactly!” Fina exclaimed. “We can’t leave him on a long leash, not only because of what he might do, but because of how that might look.”
“What do you mean ‘if it gets out some other way’?” Scotty asked. “Who else knows?”
“I don’t have anyone in mind,” Matthew said, “but you know that secrets tend to get out. It’s just how things go.”
“That’s why we need to control this,” Fina said. “That’s why going to the cops may not be the worst idea.”
“And what about the kids?” Scotty’s face darkened. “My kids are going to have to go to school and hear all kinds of gossip. You want to do that to them, Fina?”
“It’s not going to be good for Haley if her father gets arrested,” Matthew added.
“If you have a better idea, Scotty, I’m all ears,” she said, rising from the couch.
“Where are you going?” Scotty asked. “We still don’t know what we’re doing.”
“But the best legal minds are on it.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m s
ure you two will figure out something.”
“Keep in touch,” Matthew said as Fina neared the door.
“I will. I’m going to church in the morning, but you should be able to reach me after that.”
Her brothers exchanged a look.
“Why are you going to church?” Matthew asked.
“To pray on it,” Fina replied, relishing the bewilderment on her brothers’ faces. “Because someone’s paying me to, dumbnuts. You think I’d go for free?”
Scotty exhaled. “Don’t scare us like that.”
“You deserve it,” Fina said, and left.
• • •
“I think you should come to church with me,” Fina said to Milloy on Sunday morning. They were sitting at her dining room table, the newspaper scattered across the top.
“I like church,” he said before putting a forkful of omelet into his mouth.
Milloy Danielson was Fina’s best friend, massage therapist, and occasional investigative operative. They had met during freshman orientation week at college and bonded over their shared dislike of trust exercises and lame parlor games. In the years since, they’d always had each other’s back, and occasionally, when the mood struck, more than that.
Although he’d slept over the night before, it had been a chaste evening dominated by take-out and the Bruins game.
“It’s an evangelical born-again church. I don’t know how they feel about your kind,” Fina said, referring to his mixed Chinese American heritage.
Milloy shook his head. “We’re not going to find out today. I’ve got appointments.”
“The captains of industry need a good rubdown?” she asked, grinning.
“You make it sound so dirty,” Milloy said.
Fina smiled. “Thanks for breakfast.”
She didn’t cook and was the beneficiary of Milloy’s culinary know-how. In addition to her junk food necessities, her regular grocery delivery included ingredients that Milloy requested; she had no need for chicken breasts, fresh produce, or whole grains.