“Poor Trevor.”
For several moments, she was silent. “What exactly did he hope to achieve by showing up in Palmerton and pretending to be someone he isn’t?”
“That’s two.” Brody held up two cigar-shaped fingers.
“Two?”
“Questions. I thought you didn’t have any.”
She decided it wouldn’t take much to learn to hate this man. “You’re right.” She sniffed and turned to study a brightly painted lighthouse on a cliff in the distance. “Forget I asked.”
His long sigh was full of regret and apology in one. “Look, Meggy. I work for Trevor, but he’s also a friend. He has a reason for everything he does. If you want to know what those reasons are, you have to ask him.”
She didn’t say another word, not even “thank you” when he delivered her to Palmer House two hours later.
****
“I’ll kill him! I want directions to that farm, Meggy.” Cara paced the hardwood floor in Shan’s kitchen. “Never mind. Martha’s Vineyard isn’t that big, I’ll find it myself. You can drive me, Erin. I’m liable to run him down the moment I see him.”
Erin smiled wryly at her sister. “We can’t have that. I’m not sure how Finn would feel about conjugal visits with you doing time.”
“You’re not helping, ladies.” Shan popped the cork from a bottle of wine.
“Says who?” Three identical green gazes turned on Meggy. She shrugged. “Picturing Trevor Bryce—make that Trevor Christos—with his body broken and bloody sure makes me feel better.”
The O’Shea sisters had reacted to this morning’s revelations with varying degrees of disbelief and outrage. Though she’d tried, she couldn’t seem to settle on one emotion. She felt like she was suffering from a raging case of PMS. Since she’d spotted the Ashford housekeeper and realized the last few weeks had been nothing but an elaborate ruse, she’d been catapulted back and forth between red hot fury and the uncontrollable urge to weep, with a healthy dose of fear thrown in for good measure. She was doing her best to stay focused on the fury.
“I can’t believe it.” Shan pulled glasses from a cabinet, pouring wine into the crystal. “He sat in the bar every night and talked to me. He asked me all kinds of questions about you. About when we were growing up. I thought he was infatuated. I even thought it was kind of sweet.” She sipped and waved her glass toward Meggy. “I can’t believe the jerk was pumping me for information all along.”
“I can’t believe any of it. I know he lied about who he was, Meggy.” Erin’s eyes filled with helpless apology. “But a man doesn’t look at a woman the way Trevor looks at you if he doesn’t have feelings. I can’t believe it was all just pretense.”
“Well, believe it,” Meggy said sharply. She reached for the wine bottle on the table and topped off Shan’s glass, then refilled Erin’s. Cara had said she was too upset to drink. She emptied the remainder of the bottle into her own glass. “According to Brody, Trevor is Elizabeth Ashford’s golden boy. He’d do anything for her. When I showed up at the farm, she sent him to find out everything he could about me.”
“She sent him?” Cara paused in her pacing.
Meggy shrugged. “She sent him...he came himself. What difference does it make? They recognized me and decided on a preemptive strike before I tried to cash in on their empire.”
She’d learned that much when to her surprise, Finn had recognized the Ashford bodyguard the moment they’d pulled into the driveway. It always surprised her how small the world really was. The world of pro football was even smaller. As an ex-strong-safety for the New England Patriots, Brody hadn’t exactly been a friend, but he’d rubbed shoulder pads with Finn, back when they’d both played in the NFL.
To her disgust, they’d shared a gridiron reunion, right there in her driveway. She’d flung the trench coat at the annoying bodyguard and stomped off in fury. Though Brody hadn’t answered all of Finn’s questions, he’d been happy to share what he could.
According to Brody, Meggy was the spitting image of her grandmother, Elizabeth Ashford’s daughter, Anne. When she’d shown up at the farm several weeks ago, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of her. She’d given Trevor three weeks to find out what he could about her, and today had been the deadline.
“But why not just introduce himself and explain the situation?” Confusion wrinkled Shan's brow. “Why the subterfuge?”
“That’s the billion dollar question,” Meggy said bitterly. “Or close to a billion, if Brody can be believed.”
“I vote we all go down to the carriage house and take a machete to his Armanis.” At the three blank stares turned her way, Cara crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her shoulders. “But that’s just me.”
Meggy loved Cara’s deep loyalty. “As tempting as that sounds, I think we’d better just pack up his stuff and have it delivered to the farm.” She glanced around at her three closest friends, at her two partners. “Losing the rent on the carriage house is going to cut into our capital. I’ll wave my paycheck until Jill can find us a new tenant.”
“I don’t think so,” Cara growled. Shan shook her head.
“He only took the carriage house to get at me.” Her trashed heart’s shards were so sharp she could hardly breathe.
“And he signed a six-month lease,” Cara reminded her. “It’ll be a pleasure to sue him if he tries to break it.”
She understood Cara’s hostile anticipation of a little payback, but admitted, “I’d just assume we let the bastard break it.” She paused. “But that’s just me.”
No one laughed at her attempt at humor.
Ever the voice of reason, Shan leaned on her elbows to say, “The lease aside, you said Brody believed they wouldn’t let the identity issue drop. Trevor will be back, Meggy. And he won’t be constrained by his guise as a charming writer this time. You’ll be dealing with the billionaire’s grandson. You need an attorney.”
“I’ll call mine.” Cara took the last open chair at the table. “He’s been known to eat small corporations for breakfast. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled at the chance to take a big bite out of the Ashford pie.”
“And I’ll be permanently trapped in the Ashford crosshairs.” Meggy shook her head. “No thanks. Call your lawyer, Cara. Shan’s right, I’m going to need one, but only to draw up whatever papers are necessary to wave any and all connection to that family. Brody said they’ll want Rachel Hadley’s letter. They can have it, if they promise to leave me alone.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You may want to get down here,” Shan said the moment Meggy picked up the call on her cell phone.
“Why?”
“Look out the window.”
Meggy scrambled to the tiny dormer window beside her bed. Early morning sunlight stabbed at her eyes, and she groaned at the sight of a black Mercedes and a silver Bentley parked at the end of the path leading to the carriage house. As she watched, Trevor stepped out of the Mercedes. He waved off Brody to help Elizabeth Ashford alight from the Bentley himself. With a hand on her elbow, he led her toward the main house. “Tell them I’m not here.”
“I could do that, but even if Trevor believed me, which he won’t, they’ll be back, Meggy. And they’re on your turf now. I’m here, and Cara and Erin can be here in two minutes. Wouldn’t you rather face them and get it over with?”
She rolled her neck and shoulders and winced at the hot stab of pain flaring through her tensed muscles. The last twenty-four hours had only intensified the righteous anger that had kept her company throughout the long, sleepless night. Exhausted, her eyes scraped against her lids like high-grade sandpaper with every blink, but not from crying. A man willing to go to such extremes for his own selfish purposes wasn’t worth a single tear, and she counted it a small victory that so far, she’d managed to defeat the tidal wave of grief threatening to drown her.
Embarrassment and fury gushed through her like a geyser as she watched Trevor and Elizabeth disappear beneath the portico’s eve. Shan was right
. The sooner she got the inevitable confrontation over with, the sooner she could put the entire sordid episode behind her and get on with her life. Why that thought would cause her airway to constrict, she refused to consider.
She attempted to jump-start her lungs with a breathy growl. “I hate it when you play the logic card.”
Shan’s laughter came through the phone. “They’re at the door. What do you want me to do? Shall I hide behind the bar like a five-year-old, or do you want me to call my sisters?”
“Neither.” She headed for the stairs. “I’m on my way down. And don’t call your sisters. Cara is so mad she’s libel to show up with that machete.”
She pushed open the door from the kitchen, entering the dining room just as Elizabeth Ashford sank into an upholstered sofa in the lounge, guided gently by Trevor’s hand on her elbow. Seeing him caused a spike of pain to slip past her anger. She swallowed and forced herself to cross the room.
Three gazes turned at the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor.
Shan shot her a sympathetic smile from the bar.
Elizabeth sat forward on the sofa, clutching a leather binder in her lap.
Trevor stood beside the sofa, his pale gaze passing over her from head to toe in a slow inspection.
The familiar once-over left her seething. He looked confident and comfortable, standing with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black dress slacks. Only the stormy gray of his eyes indicated he considered this meeting more than just a casual gathering.
The sight of the overnight bag she’d left on board his boat, sitting at his feet, made her stomach cramp.
“I figured you’d refuse to see us—”
“And I would have, but someone convinced me this meeting was inevitable.” She gave Shan a tight smile. “I decided to get it over and done with.”
Trevor didn’t respond. He looked to Shan where she stood with a hip leaning on a barstool. “Do we have you to thank for not having the door slammed in our faces?”
Shan shrugged, her gaze narrowed. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“I didn’t think you had. I’m grateful just the same.” He turned and held out a hand. “Will you sit?”
She had to move closer to him to enter the seating area and when she did, his voice dropped to a low rumble that only she could hear. “I’m sorry, fairy girl. So sorry.”
She stiffened and turned from the entreaty in his eyes. Holding up the envelope containing Rachel’s letter, she met the excitement in Elizabeth’s. “I assume you’re here for this. You can have it, if you promise never to do anything to harm me or my business. That includes my family and friends.”
“Jesus, Meggy.”
She continued to ignore him as if he weren’t there. “My lawyer is drawing up documents denying any rights I might have to the Ashford millions. You can have your attorneys go over them to make sure I haven’t slipped in any sneaky loopholes.” She swept Trevor with a disdainful look. “When that’s done, Rachel’s letter will be delivered to you with your copies of the signed documents. I never want to see it again.”
“Of all the stubborn...”
“Trevor,” Elizabeth interrupted sharply without looking his way. “Why is it you assume we would do something to harm you, Megan?”
Her gaze flicked to Trevor. He didn’t look calm or confident now. He looked frustrated and furious. She met Elizabeth’s waiting gaze with a fierce one of her own. “Oh, I don’t know.” Sarcasm dripped from her every word. “Maybe because your first instinct on seeing me was to believe I was there to screw you somehow?”
“My first instinct,” Elizabeth corrected, “was that you were my great-granddaughter.” She opened the leather binder and pulled out a glossy photo. Her hand shook as she extended it. “Go ahead. Look at it.”
Shan pushed away from the bar, stepping around the couch to look over Meggy’s shoulder when she took the photo. “Wow.”
She refrained from verbally echoing the sentiment, but she wholeheartedly agreed. The woman smiling back from the aged photograph could have been her twin. If she didn’t know better, she would swear the photo was one of herself, taken without her knowledge.
“Yes, wow.” Elizabeth nodded. “My daughter, Anne,” she explained. “Your grandmother. You gave me quite a shock that day at the farm, and you’d disappeared before I regained my ability to speak.”
She stared at the photo and understood the woman’s shock. Her own face smiled back. But that didn’t explain their deception of the last few weeks. “But you did regain the ability eventually,” she glanced up to accuse, “enough to sic your wolfhound on me.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trevor bristle at the description. “You knew how to find me. A simple phone call would have confirmed I wanted nothing. Instead, you chose to spy on me in an effort to gain the upper hand on the evil golddigger.”
“Grandmother isn’t to blame here, Meggy,” Trevor insisted.
She jerked her head around to fry him with her gaze. “Oh, I know exactly where to place the blame, Uncle Trevor.”
He sighed. “I know you’re angry, Meggy. You have every right to be, and I’ll apologize again for the way things were handled. That was my doing. When you showed up at the farm the way you did, I assumed you were a fake.” He lifted a hand to interrupt her when she hissed. “I was wrong. Everyone here now believes you really are Rachel’s daughter and, as so, there are things we need to discuss. If you’ll put aside your anger at me for a little while, we can do that.”
She didn’t see that there was anything to discuss, but she could see that they thought so. Fine. She’d decided to get this over with, and she would. Putting aside her anger was something else entirely. “I have no problem talking to you, Mrs. Ashford.” She glared at Trevor. “You, on the other hand, I want no part of. In fact, now would be a perfect time for you to pack up your stuff and vacate the carriage house.”
“Why would I do that?”
His calmness angered her all the more, if that were possible. “Because you won’t be living there after today,” she answered just as calmly.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “The lease agreement says I’ll be living there for the next five months.”
“I’m breaking your lease.”
“I’ll fight you on that, Meggy.”
Her tentative control on her temper snapped. “Fine. Hire an attorney. Sue me. It’ll be worth the cost to get rid of you.”
“I don’t have to hire an attorney. I’m licensed to practice law in Massachusetts.”
That stopped her tirade, but only for a second. “An attorney?” She snorted in contempt. “That figures.” She’d pegged him correctly that first day in the carriage house. Too bad she hadn’t heeded her inner voice.
Elizabeth took advantage of the lull in their verbal skirmish. “Trevor, darling, we aren’t accomplishing anything with the two of you snapping at each other. I’m sure you can find something to keep yourself occupied while Megan and I talk.”
Though Meggy could see he wanted to argue against the dismissal, he nodded, and bent to press a kiss to Elizabeth’s raised cheek. “I’ll be in the carriage house.” He aimed a hard glare at Meggy.
She averted her gaze, taking a seat across from Elizabeth and refusing to let her gaze follow him as he stalked out the front door.
“I’ll make some coffee. You’ll be okay?” Shan cast a worried gaze her way.
“I’ll be fine, thanks.”
Shan disappeared into the kitchen.
Squaring her shoulder, she met Elizabeth’s gaze. “I’m listening. What do we have to discuss?”
Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. “You take after Anne in more than just your looks. My daughter could have given mules stubborn lessons.”
“According to Brody, she got that trait from you,” she replied without hesitation and blinked when Elizabeth laughed.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Elizabeth sat back and folded her wrinkled hands in her lap. “So, why do you hate
me?”
“I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you.”
“Distrust then.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, I can’t.” The older woman shook her head. “We misled you for our own purposes. The same way you misled Helen Smithers when you applied for the job at Ashford Farm.”
She fought the urge to squirm under her intent regard. The truth of Elizabeth’s words had guilt bumping against the wall of distrust Meggy had built, and she jutted her chin in defense. “I told you, I just wanted to see.”
“I’ll accept that excuse, if you’ll accept that in our own way, we just wanted to see as well.”
“Your way of seeing stinks,” Meggy snapped. “I didn’t intrude in your life, while you sent Trevor to...to pass himself off as a harmless stranger while he ingratiated himself with people I care about.”
“And with you?”
The gleam in Elizabeth’s eyes dared her to contradict her. The idea of just how far he had ingratiated himself with her was too humiliating to consider. She fell back on silence as her only safe response.
“I’ll admit he could have handled the situation better,” Elizabeth said after a long moment.
“He could have simply asked.” Her heart shredded a little more.
“Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “And considering what we all now know to be the truth, he should have done just that.
Meggy opened her mouth to agree.
Elizabeth held up her hand. “However, I understand why he didn’t. You’re not the first potential great-granddaughter to show up at the farm. Five years ago, a young woman arrived at the farm just as you did, only she wasn’t there looking for a position. She claimed to be Rachel’s child, and though I tried to remain impartial, at least until we’d established the legitimacy of her claim, she had the look of Rachel.”
Her eyes took on a bitter glaze. “I wanted so badly to believe we’d found a part of Rachel, a part of Anne, that I didn’t protect myself as I should. I was quite distraught when she disappeared rather than have the DNA testing to prove her claim conclusively.” She glanced away for a few seconds and then sighed. “It took me months to recover. My despondency frightened Trevor. When you showed up at the farm, he saw it all happening again and did what he felt was necessary to protect me.”
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