Never Too Late

by Julie Blair

  Jamie smiled and Pete patted her arm. This was the news she needed. Anne rested her forearms on the large desk covered with stacks of files and law books. “I also want to tell you right now you’re not going to like some of what you’ll hear today. Hell, I don’t like it, but I assure you every fact has been checked and it’s indisputable.”

  Jamie swallowed hard as she met the piercing brown eyes, unsure what to make of Anne’s cryptic comment. Had Marjorie done something else she didn’t know about? She looked at Pete but he seemed unconcerned.

  There was a knock on the door, and a young woman with short auburn hair entered. She nodded at Anne before introducing herself and then took the third chair in front of Anne’s desk.

  Anne gestured to her. “Your show, Dolores.”

  Dolores set a brown folder on the desk, looking uncomfortable as she pulled papers from it. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry this investigation took so long, Dr. Hammond.” She looked at Anne before facing Jamie. “Cases of embezzlement are never simple, but this one…” She shook her head. “Marjorie Vicker led us on quite a merry chase. Most embezzlers are good at covering their tracks by weaving intricate stories or implicating the people they stole from. This is a nasty piece of work on all those counts.”

  “Lay it out for them, Dolores,” Anne said.

  Dolores cleared her throat again and adjusted herself in the chair. “When we first questioned Ms. Vicker she denied all the charges against her, insisting it was just a misunderstanding.”

  Lies. Marjorie’s pathetic lies disgusted Jamie, but at least the truth was finally coming out. Anne’s gaze was fixed on her again, and the scrutiny made her uneasy.

  “When we presented her with records from the insurance companies and her own bank records, she changed her story and insisted you were involved in it. She told a convoluted story about how the money went into her accounts first and then into hidden accounts you had in offshore banks.”

  Jamie started to protest but Dolores held up her hand. Anne’s gaze had softened, but there was sympathy in it that didn’t make sense. A bad feeling crawled up her spine. There was more.

  “It took us awhile to untangle that mess,” Dolores said, shuffling the papers in her lap. “It does happen sometimes that a scenario like that is true. We’ve investigated thoroughly and found nothing suspicious in your personal finances to support her claim. When we confronted her, Ms. Vicker couldn’t give us any documentation to support her claim.”

  Jamie resented that she’d been investigated, but other than stupidity and misplaced trust she wasn’t guilty of anything. It was reassuring to have it confirmed.

  “Ms. Vicker’s last hurrah, so to speak, was a doozy.” Dolores tapped her pen against her knee and looked at Anne. Something passed between them, and Jamie’s breathing quickened as that bad feeling intensified. “At first we thought she was lying again. In part she was, but in part she wasn’t.”

  “Short version,” Anne said, her eyes on Jamie.

  Dolores avoided looking at Jamie as she continued. “Ms. Vicker claimed her mother had been skimming money from the business with your father’s blessing and she was just continuing—”

  “What!” Jamie sat up on the edge of the chair. “That’s ridiculous. How dare she—”

  “Let her finish, Jamie.” Anne’s voice silenced the room.

  Jamie’s neck felt hot and her stomach dropped. Anne’s gaze was still too soft, and Dolores wouldn’t look at her. There was something more. She braced herself. What else had Marjorie done?

  “When we pressed her to support her allegation, Ms. Vicker claimed she’s your father’s daughter and was entitled to take the money because you cheated her out of her rightful inheritance.”

  Jamie went rigid as she stared first at Dolores and then at Anne. She jumped to her feet and headed for the door. More lies. She wasn’t going to listen to them insult her father. Anne stepped in front of her and put a restraining hand on her forearm. “I said you wouldn’t like some of what you’d hear.” Anne’s voice was gentle but the grip on her arm was firm. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am you had to find out this way, Jamie, but we need to get through this.”

  Shock, anger, and a horrible sinking feeling collected in Jamie’s gut. She sat down hard and gripped the arms of the chair, her insides turning to jelly. Pete touched her arm and she turned on him. “You knew my father since before I was born. Is it true?” Her voice sounded strange to her ears through all the blood pounding in her head.

  Pete looked pale. “I have no reason to believe it is.”

  Anne came around her desk, took the paper from Dolores, and handed it to Jamie. “This is a copy of her birth certificate. I want you to leave here knowing as much as we do, Jamie.”

  Jamie took the birth certificate, trembling as she searched for the line that said birth father. John James Hammond. She held it away as if it burned her. Anne’s fingers brushed against hers as she took it, and Jamie wanted to grab her hand and hold tight as shock waves of disbelief hit her. She tried to sort out her thoughts as her life rearranged itself into a sickening new reality. Her mom. This would have killed her. She focused on Anne’s voice as her world tilted and fell into the abyss.

  “Ms. Vicker told us a long, involved story about how your father told her mother shortly before his death that he’d written a new will which included both of them,” Dolores said. “She claims he left her mother the house he’d bought for her and set up trust funds for them.”

  “Is it true?” Jamie asked, to no one in particular. Her voice sounded wrong, like she was speaking from far away.

  “Ms. Vicker can’t provide us with a copy of the supposed will,” Anne said. “She claims you destroyed it, then kept her on as your office manager to keep her quiet.”

  Jamie tried to speak, but no words came out as her throat closed around the cry of disbelief that threatened to break through. “If it’s true, I never saw it, and I swear my father never told me about a new one. He pretended he wasn’t dying right up to the end,” she added, as those last months took on new meaning—Mary taking care of him, breaking down at his funeral. She looked at Anne’s hands folded across her thigh, one hip hiked up on the corner of her desk. A gold watch hugged her wrist, a Rolex crown on the dial. Maybe that’s what I’ll buy Sheryl as an anniversary present.

  Pete was shaking his head. “As far as I know, I handled all John’s legal matters.”

  Anne stayed perched on the corner of her desk, and Jamie anchored herself to her strong presence. She felt very small as she fought for control. Not in a million years would she have thought her father capable of—The kiss. She swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat. She needed to get out of here. She needed Sheryl. They’d get through this. It would be all right.

  “We don’t believe that part is true,” Anne said. “She’s desperate to avoid prison and trying to muddy the waters any way she can. The paternity issue can’t be denied, but there’s no evidence to support the rest of her claim.”

  “Are you going to prosecute?” Jamie hoped her voice wasn’t shaking. She studied the wall of law books behind Anne’s desk. All that certainty.

  “The easy answer would be to say yes,” Anne said. “We have enough evidence, and the dollars we’re talking about in this case are substantial.”

  “Good,” Jamie said, as anger chased away some of the shock. “She and her mother were like—” Tears filled her eyes and she lowered her head to hide them. As a little girl she’d thought her father had two wives—one at home and one at the office. He’d been furious when she asked if all daddies had two wives. She wiped tears off her cheeks and didn’t pull away when Pete touched her arm. “How long?”

  “How long what?” Anne asked.

  “The…affair.” Jamie choked on the word. Had her mother found out? She’d failed quickly in those last few months.

  “Ms. Vicker claims they became involved shortly after her mother went to work for your father.” Jamie hated the cal
m tone Anne used for such a despicable act. “I won’t pull punches with you, Jamie. That part is probably true. Your father bought the house she’s living in in 1965. The title is still in his name. Since it wasn’t mentioned in the will that was probated, no one knew about it. Ms. Vicker continued to pay the property taxes so no red flags were raised. Technically the house is yours as your father’s sole heir. Given when he bought it and what property values have become, it’s a sizable asset.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with it,” Jamie said. How did these people know more about her life than she did?

  “Perhaps, but that’s one of the things I want you to think about. You have two problems that should be your primary concerns. The sale of that house might be enough to cover what you owe the IRS. Don’t let anger tempt you to make a decision that’s not in your best interest.”

  Jamie heard the logic, but profiting from what her father had done was condoning it. She’d save herself. She didn’t need his help…lying, cheating bastard. The words rose up through layers of crumbling love and respect. He wasn’t who she’d believed him to be.

  “Your second problem is with the insurance companies and, I imagine, with your state board over insurance-fraud issues. My office will support your claim that you had no knowledge of what Ms. Vicker was doing. I want you to think about what’s best for your business.”

  My father’s business, Jamie wanted to say. Twenty years and she was still trying to make him proud.

  Anne paused, and when Jamie met her gaze, her breath caught at the concern in her eyes. “Dolores, I’ll meet with you later. Pete, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to talk to Jamie alone.”

  “I’ll wait for you downstairs.” Pete patted her arm as he got up.

  Jamie slumped back against the chair, trembling with anger and disbelief.

  “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.” Anne’s voice was soft. “If I can do anything to help, it would be my pleasure to return the kindness you showed me when I hurt my back.”

  Jamie cleared her throat, gathering herself. “Thank you, Anne. I don’t know what to do with all this.” She shook her head as if she could jostle the pieces into place.

  “I hope you have good people who can help you through it.”

  Jamie nodded, too numb to think. She had Sheryl. They’d pull together.

  “If you have any questions, call me.” She handed Jamie a business card.

  Jamie stood and picked up the briefcase, squeezing the handle. Useless evidence. Anne shook her hand, holding it longer than she needed to before walking Jamie out of her office and escorting her to the elevator. Nothing more was said as Anne reached in and pressed the button for the first floor.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Jamie looked out the window of Pete’s Mercedes as he navigated the streets of downtown San Jose, regretting she’d let him pick her up. She wanted to be alone. She now had the why and wished she didn’t. Her head throbbed and her gut was churning dangerously. It took her a few minutes to realize Pete was talking to her.

  “Jamie, I had no idea. I knew your mother. She was a special woman. I would never have covered his actions. I’ll look into the particulars on that house—”

  “Can we talk about this another time?” Jamie’s voice was oddly calm.

  “Of course.” Pete patted her arm in a grandfatherly way. She wanted to be mad at him, but her father had fooled everyone.

  “I couldn’t figure out why Marjorie would steal from me,” she said, as if to herself, staring out the window at people going about their business, oblivious that their lives could be undone in an instant. “I thought if I knew why she did it I could make peace with it.”

  But there was no making peace with this. Marjorie hated her for something she knew nothing about. Her life was on the brink of ruin and she hadn’t caused any of it. She folded her arms tight against her body, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

  “You’ll get through this, Jamie. You’re strong like your—”

  Jamie choked back the sob that tried to escape. She didn’t want to be anything like him. Her mind slammed against itself. The kiss.

  “Take me home.” She couldn’t go back to that office. His office. She couldn’t face Carla.

  Jamie bolted from the car as soon as it came to a stop in her driveway. She was blind with rage as she tore off her clothes and stepped into the shower. Water as hot as she could stand scalded her as she scrubbed her skin. What he’d done made her feel dirty. All those years she’d been around them and never suspected. Had anyone known? Colleagues? Patients? Oh, God. She pressed her forehead against the tile and laid her palms alongside as the water beat down on her back. Her thoughts ricocheted from disbelief to anger and back again. Her mom. Had she known? Suspected? Were her bouts of depression because of him? She collapsed to the floor of the shower, sobbing as her childhood crumbled around her, no longer the perfect, loving family.

  Photo albums circled Jamie as she sat on the living-room floor, wrapped in the green terry-cloth bathrobe she’d pulled from the back of her closet, a long-ago Christmas present from her mom. She flipped pages, examining every picture for evidence of his betrayal, as if she needed more than his name on a birth certificate. Marjorie was older. Had Jamie been wanted? Or was she just an inconvenient accident? Her mother loved her, of that she was certain, but her father? Fear and confusion gathered in her stomach as questions chased each other, too many to grasp.

  She dropped another tear-soaked tissue onto the floor. So many pictures of her and her mom in Carmel without him, and now it all made sense. He’d been with her, with them. All those nights he was supposedly at his office or at meetings was he with them, too? In the house he’d bought for them? What about all those weekend seminars? Had they gone with him—a vacation? Her stomach was an angry lump of pain, and a headache throbbed in her temples. She fought the urge to tear up every single picture of him. She didn’t know how long she’d been there when the front door opened.

  She stepped on one of the photo albums as she dashed to Sheryl and threw her arms around her. “God, I’m happy to see you.” Jamie peppered Sheryl’s cheeks with kisses and then kissed her possessively on the mouth. “I love you so much. Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “Why are you home so early?” Sheryl pushed against her waist.

  No, pull me closer. “I had a meeting with the DA this afternoon.”

  “Is it over?”

  “Yes.” She kissed her again, aching for Sheryl to kiss her back. Really kiss her. Like she was forgiven. Like they were okay.

  “The tax problem, too?”

  “Yes.” She’d sell that house and use the money to save theirs.

  “That’s great.”

  Sheryl’s smile thawed some of the panic that felt like frostbite in her heart. They’d be okay. “Sheryl—”

  “What happened to the living room?”

  Jamie clutched Sheryl’s hand as she walked to the kitchen.

  “Sheryl—”

  “I have some good news about my promotion.”

  Jamie tugged on Sheryl’s arm until she turned around. “My father had an affair with Mary. Marjorie is his daughter.” She wanted Sheryl to fill in the gaps, to understand.

  “What?”

  “An affair. My father was cheating on my mom with Mary.” Sheryl laughed, and Jamie backed up as if slapped.

  “You’re kidding. What does that have to do with her embezzling?”

  “My father had an affair, Sheryl! That’s what I found out at the fucking meeting.”

  “Don’t yell at me. I see you’re upset, but it’s not that big a deal. My father had affairs all the time. It’s just the way men are.”

  Jamie stared at her. She felt disoriented—like she didn’t belong in her own life. She gripped the edge of the counter. “Your father had affairs and you don’t think it was a big deal?” This was the first she’d heard about this.

  “Jamie, your mom was sick a lot,” Sheryl said, as i
f to a child. “Maybe your father thought it was a decent compromise. He stayed with her, right?”

  “Compromise? Since when is cheating a compromise?”

  “Isn’t the important part that it’s over?” Sheryl ran her fingers through Jamie’s hair, straightening it, and kissed her on the cheek. She set a take-out bag on the counter. “There’s enough for you if you want some.”

  How could Sheryl be talking about dinner when she’d just had the worst day of her life? If she went out and came back in again would she be in the right life—the one where Sheryl wrapped her arms around her and held her and said how horrible it was and how sorry she was. The life where they went to bed and curled up together, just the two of them, like nothing else mattered.

  “The superintendent was at the seminar. And that bitch wasn’t. He told me he respected how dedicated and hard-working I am. Said I’m the type of person he wants on his team. Isn’t that great?”

  Jamie covered the space in two strides, wrapped her arms around Sheryl, buried her face in her neck, gulped in her perfume. “I need to be close to you. Please.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as Sheryl’s arms came around her, and she kissed the side of her head.

  “I have to go to a meeting.”

  Jamie’s chest tightened and she gathered fistfuls of Sheryl’s expensive suit. “Stay home with me. Please. I need you.”

  “I’ll try to leave early, Jamie, but it’s an important meeting. I’m back in the lead for the promotion. And I might know for sure before the Christmas break.” Sheryl spun Jamie around and kissed her on the mouth. “Maybe we should plan that vacation for our anniversary. New York?”

  Jamie frowned as Sheryl lifted containers out of the bag and pulled plates from the cabinet as if it were just another night. Who was this woman who was happy when she got what she wanted and distant when she didn’t? Who didn’t understand what had happened to her this afternoon? Who wouldn’t stay home with her? She stepped back and let her arms fall to her sides as her world tilted for the second time today.