by Gun Brooke
“We both know the trust fund Granny Hamilton set up for all her six grandchildren put me through college. Or didn’t you think I was aware of that?” Faythe spoke calmly, but the way she trembled against Deanna spoke volumes of how much he upset her.
“That’s just it! If she hadn’t been so damn charmed by you brats, that money would’ve gone to me.”
“And your two sisters,” Faythe said. “Besides, you don’t know that. Nanny Hamilton had the right to leave her money to anyone she saw fit. The fact that she loved her grandchildren so much was a godsend when I was a kid. We were never together as a family, except to go to church. I needed the consistency she provided. I know you and Mother have blocked it out, but you fought like cats and dogs when you thought nobody was listening.”
A low hiss followed the momentary silence. “That’s a lie. We put up a perfect front for you. A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt. Like sticking to a career that’s worth anything.”
Faythe winced. “So, we’re back to that again.” She leaned her forehead against Deanna’s temple for a moment, then continued. “Listen now, Dad. I’m not going to let my own father coerce me or persuade me to do anything I don’t want to. I don’t know why you want me to stay at the network, and frankly I don’t care. I know what I want. I want to write, as a freelancer, as an employed reporter somewhere, I don’t care. I want to write. This is my final word on the matter and I refuse to talk about this again with you—ever.”
“I’m not through—”
“Yes. You are. We’re both through. And if this is all you want or care to talk about, I suppose we’re through, period.” Faythe slammed her hand over her mouth and tears rose in her eyes.
“You’d choose writing a fucking book before your own flesh and blood?” Ben sounded stunned.
“You would choose to bully your own flesh and blood into doing something against her will?”
“Damn it, you’re making me out to be a monster. Everything depends on you. Our goddamn future hangs in the balance, and then you—” Ben cut off his sentence and the line seemed dead.
“Ben? What the hell are you talking about?” Faythe sat up, frowning.
“You don’t have a head for business. You wouldn’t understand.” He sounded bitter and tired. “Just make sure you keep your job. Don’t quit.”
Faythe slumped back against Deanna, who automatically held her close. It was as if all energy had left Faythe’s body; she seemed even too tired to tremble.
“What did you do, Ben? Please tell me you didn’t offer my connections on a plate as part of the deal—again?” This was clearly what Faythe suspected, and apparently it had happened before. “You promised.”
“It was a ridiculous promise.” Ben sounded defiant. “And this was nothing. Just a few introductions to some Hollywood people. You know how that impresses some of the Japanese businessmen.”
“Who did you try to sell them this time? Angelina? Jessica Alba? No, don’t tell me. Jennifer Aniston. Or, oh yes, Katie Holmes.” Deanna hardly recognized Faythe’s voice, so filled with sarcasm and hurt. “I’m not doing it, Ben. Just forget about it. Try basing your business deals on your product, rather than some Hollywood glamour factor.”
“You condescending little—”
Deanna had had enough. She pressed a button on Faythe’s cell and hung up before Ben Hamilton managed to call Faythe something unforgiveable. She quickly browsed the phone settings until she found the silence feature. Not even allowing the phone to vibrate, she tossed it away with a weird feeling of not wanting to touch the damn thing.
“Thanks,” Faythe said tiredly. “I’m sorry you had to listen to that.”
“Shh. I’m glad I’m here. You shouldn’t have to deal with such bullshit.” Deanna wanted to wrap Faythe up and shield her from her father’s callous treatment. “He’s done it before, I understand.”
“Yes. A few times. Each time he promised not to pull that stunt again, and I’m probably more naïve than I thought, because last time, two years ago, I believed him. He brought another Japanese delegation to the studio unannounced, which nearly cost me my job that day. That’s why I thought he wouldn’t do it again. And obviously I was wrong.” Faythe hid her face against Deanna’s neck. “You see what great and reliable stock I come from.”
“You’re nothing like them.”
“You thought so before.” Faythe blinked repeatedly, but persistent tears threatened to dislodge from her eyelashes.
“No, never.”
“Yes. You did. You called me a chip off the old block when you were upset. When you found Savannah and Pammie here, remember?”
“Oh, Faythe.” Deanna froze as a fuzzy memory surfaced off all the hurtful things she’d said to alleviate her own pain I can’t believe of all the things I could have said, I managed to play into her biggest fear. Faythe had done everything humanly possible to help Deanna and showed her more love and affection than anyone ever had. And this is how I repaid her. “I’m so sorry. I had blocked that out, and I wish I could take those words back because they’re untrue, every single one of them.”
“Don’t worry. I forgave you.” Faythe smiled wanly, and her rigid pose told Deanna her words weren’t entirely true.
“I think you want to forgive me, but until I fully realize just how much that hurt you, you can’t, can you?”
“I—I suppose.”
“And I do. I know you so much better now, and I trust you. You’ve got more character in your pinky than both your parents put together. As I see it, your parents have only one redeeming quality.”
“What?” Faythe wiped at her eyes.
“They managed, somehow, to raise a child who turned into the most wonderful woman imaginable. They must’ve done something right.”
“Hmm.” Faythe shook her head, her gaze softening along with her body. “Really. Well, I never looked at it that way.”
“It’s the truth.” Deanna brushed her lips across Faythe’s forehead.
“Thank you.”
“So, just to be sure there are no misunderstandings, you’re not a chip off the old block. You’re nothing like them, and you’ve got more intelligence and heart than they ever will.”
“Thank you,” Faythe said again.
“You’re welcome.” Deanna nuzzled Faythe’s temple, wanting to emphasize her words. “I don’t care about your parents, other than I’m furious at your father for hurting you.” Deanna tipped Faythe’s head back and looked into her eyes. “I just want you to follow your heart and do what you want to do. Regardless of them.” She kissed Faythe softly, her heart hammering in her ears. “And regardless of me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Deanna placed her last illustration in her portfolio and closed it with strong rubber bands. She was pleased with the Bunny Buttercup illustrations, and particularly with the painting that would become the book cover. She’d painted it using acrylics, which was her first love when she became serious about her art. Remembering how her mother had cheered her on and supported her, going to every student exhibition and even buying a few pieces, was bittersweet. Where are those paintings now? Perhaps put away in the attic or placed in a seldom-used room in the big house Angela shared with Percy and his girls.
“I’m going into town,” Faythe said, barely limping anymore as she crossed the floor toward Deanna. “Want to join me?”
“No, I—” Deanna answered automatically, always reluctant to go into Grantville. “Hell, why not? I’m done with the edits and need to buy packaging for my illustrations. I’m ready to send them off to the publisher, but I always like to make sure they’re packaged properly before I overnight them.”
“Ah, excellent. Maybe we could try that cute coffeehouse by the park? The quaint and super-Vermontish one.” Faythe looked so excited.
She seemed so unlike the trembling bundle from that morning, Deanna didn’t have the heart to decline. In for a penny…
“All right, sounds fun,” Deanna said. “They do have the best c
offee in Grantville, present establishment excluded, of course.”
“Of course. Nice save.” Faythe blew Deanna a kiss. “I’ll change into something casual chic and be right back.”
“Casual chic.” Did Deanna have anything in her closet anywhere near chic, whether casual or not? “See you in a minute,” she called toward the bedroom, not waiting for an answer before she hurried to her cabin. She grabbed the key hidden in a crack in the wall next to the back door and entered. She hadn’t been there more than a few times to pick up art supplies since Faythe sprained her ankle, and the air smelled a bit stale. Deanna left the door open, hoping to air the place out a bit while she rummaged through her minuscule closet.
“Not that one,” she said to herself, tossing a too-worn denim shirt on the bed. “Too casual. Not enough chic.” She pushed and tugged at her clothes, beginning to think she wouldn’t find anything to match whatever Faythe decided on, when her eyes fell on a plastic bag covering a wire hanger in the back of the closet. “Oh, God. I forgot.” Deanna carefully took the hanger and the plastic rustled softly as she pushed it up and off the clothes underneath. Slate gray slacks and an ivory shirt looked as newly cleaned as the day she’d collected them at the dry cleaner. This used to be her work outfit, when she hadn’t been in her smock. Deanna hadn’t worn it since she quit Grantville High.
Part her of recoiled at wearing the garments, but she was being silly.
She wanted to look good for Faythe, who’d never seen her in anything but jeans and shirts. And naked. Deanna laughed at herself for allowing lewd thoughts to interfere with getting ready.
She rinsed off quickly in the shower and tied her damp hair into a low bun at the nape of her neck, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. This was how she used to wear her hair. Quickly she turned away and got dressed, smoothing the slacks over her hips. They felt a size too big; she’d obviously lost weight the last few years.
She was about to grab her leather jacket when she heard the rattling of fingertips on the frame of the back door. Smiling, she hurried over. “So eager to be seen with me that you can’t wait, huh, Faythe—” Deanna stopped on the threshold, staring at Faythe standing next to Gloria Mueller, who looked bemused.
“Hi. Well, I was on my way over and ran into Mrs. Mueller.” Faythe seemed to signal something with her eyes, looking back and forth between Deanna and Gloria.
“Gloria.” Deanna nodded curtly. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t intend to even attempt any niceties.
“Well, it’s been a while since we talked, and when I ran into your lovely family, not to mention Ms. Hamilton here, I thought it was about time we caught up.”
“Not sure what you mean. As far as I know, we’ve never talked. You’ve screamed at the top of your lungs and lectured me, but I don’t call that talking.” The small hairs on the back of Deanna’s neck stood at attention. Something was very weird about Gloria showing up so shortly after her daughter’s departure.
“Now, now, let’s not exaggerate.” Gloria smiled falsely. “What will Ms. Hamilton think?”
“Oh, I have a pretty good idea about my opinion thus far,” Faythe said blithely.
“You do?” Gloria looked surprised.
“I do.” Faythe moved to stand closer to Deanna. “Somehow you don’t seem to be exactly a friend of my neighbor, Mrs. Mueller. We were actually on our way out, and if there’s nothing more—?”
“Oh, but there is,” Gloria said hurriedly. “I need to address the matter with Deanna in private, though. It concerns her sister.” She emphasized the last sentence and looked pointedly at Deanna, who suddenly, but not unexpectedly, felt deflated.
“Just make it quick,” Deanna mumbled and held the door open for Gloria, who gave Faythe an impressed look before she stepped inside the cabin. “I’m sorry. I won’t be long,” Deanna told Faythe, who looked worriedly at her.
“Don’t let that cow get to you,” Faythe whispered. “I’ll be out here. Just shout if you need me.”
“Shh. It’ll be all right.” Deanna had to smile at the hostile glare in Faythe’s eyes. She closed the door and folded her arms over her chest.
“I’m not going to ask again. What do you want?”
“I want you to stay away from my daughter.” Gloria’s expression had altered completely. “You’ve heeded my warnings for the last two years, and you’re going to do so now, because I won’t hesitate to act on my information if you don’t.”
“What the hell?” Deanna tried to figure out how Gloria knew Savannah had contacted her. Just because Gloria suspected that Savannah had talked to her, did she know her daughter had spent the night at Faythe’s house? “I never sought your daughter out.” Deanna didn’t want to lie, and so far she hadn’t.
“Lara Stockton told me yesterday that they ran into you at the supermarket. You are not to talk to my daughter, whether in private or in public.” Gloria took a step toward Deanna, her hands clasped and a small muscle twitching next to her mouth.
Deanna refused to be intimidated. She’d never been afraid of Gloria Mueller, or any of her cronies at the school board, but she knew how strong their influence was in this small town. Deanna suspected Gloria had instigated her title as Grantville’s First Lady and desperately clung to it even though her husband was no longer the town’s mayor.
“Not one step closer, Gloria.” Deanna held up a hand, palm toward her.
“I haven’t sought your daughter out, nor do I intend to. I have no power over whom I run into in public. Grantville is a small place.”
“If you value spending time with your sister, you will make sure you’re at a safe distance.” Gloria sneered. “Savannah’s reputation is only just beginning to repair itself, and I will not have you destroy the gains she’s made.”
Deanna didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The woman’s clearly delusional. Still, the threat was real enough. If Gloria wanted to interfere with Deanna’s rights to visit Miranda and her school, she could. And Gloria wouldn’t think twice about doing so, if she thought it served her purpose.
“Well?” Gloria tapped her foot.
“Nothing’s changed. I hear you.” Deanna spoke through clenched teeth. “You have me by the throat.”
“If I didn’t have to put my own poor daughter first, I would’ve made sure you weren’t allowed anywhere near that school, or any other school for that matter.” Gloria clutched her purse.
“You mean, you put yourself and your precious reputation as self-proclaimed royalty in this godforsaken town first.” Deanna had never spoken to Gloria in such a way before. “You could have acted a dozen different ways, if you’d had only Savannah’s best interest at heart. I may be forced to do as you say, but let’s be honest, Gloria. You’re only looking out for number one, and I’m obviously not talking about your daughter.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You’re an immoral bitch who—”
“Who what, Mrs. Mueller?” Faythe seemed to materialize just inside the door. “I could hear the yelling all the way out to the deck.”
“This doesn’t concern you, Ms. Hamilton.” Gloria had obvious trouble regaining her composure. “Deanna and I have old issues that we’re trying to work out, and…well, I suppose it might sound worse than it is.”
“It sounded like you called her an ‘immoral bitch,’ actually,” Faythe said coolly. “Sounds bad enough if you ask me. How would you improve on that if you wanted to make it actually sound worse? Well, I suppose you could call her a fucking immoral bitch.” Faythe tilted her head and looked pensively at Deanna. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“That does sound worse,” Deanna said weakly. She tried to signal Faythe wordlessly not to antagonize Gloria any further, but it was probably too late.
“Eh, Ms. Hamilton. May I call you Faythe?” Gloria actually squirmed, which was something Deanna had never seen or thought possible.
“You can call me anything you want, as long as ‘immoral bitch’ isn’t part of it.”
“Well, eh, ha ha, I see. Of course not.” Gloria coughed. “Deanna and I go back quite a few years, and we haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
“Who can blame Deanna for being mad at you, shocked even, when you’re not doing more to set the record straight?” Faythe looked genuinely concerned, as if she really was trying to figure out Gloria’s dilemma. “I’m sure you’ve racked your brain endlessly about how to get the point across without causing your daughter any unnecessary harm.” She patted Gloria’s arm. “Enough to give a poor mother sleepless nights, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it sure is,” Gloria said, and nodded eagerly. “A mother does what she has to, to protect her offspring. It’s the law of nature.”
“Sure is,” Faythe echoed. She paused, glancing between them.
“It’s when the nature of things is on a collision course with the law of man that things can get hairy.”
“Exact—what?” Gloria staggered sideways, only a fraction of an inch, but it was obvious to Deanna, and she knew from Faythe’s pleased look that she’d seen it too. Deanna had given up trying to discreetly signal Faythe; instead she took the more direct approach.
“Gloria has invisible ways to help people see things her way. No matter what the law is, you could say.” Deanna hoped Faythe would see beyond the jest in her voice.
“But you see, that’s where I come in. I know you’re the top hyena in this town, Gloria, with all the rest of the hyena-wannabes nearly falling over themselves to be on your good side. I suspect they’re a bit afraid too. They don’t want to become your next target.” Faythe wasn’t speaking tongue-in-cheek anymore, and Deanna could only watch what she feared was a complete train wreck right before her eyes.
“I never!” Gloria spat, her eyes actually bulging.
“Well, Grantville may be your playing field of choice, your home ballpark, Gloria,” Faythe continued, undaunted. “However, Grantville, as lovely as it is, is a small speck on the map of America. Where I reside, Manhattan, New York, the network’s studios, we reach and influence millions on national television. As you may know, we cover all sorts of stories, and this vendetta, based on lies and emotional extortion, would really tug at the American heartstrings. And if you think I’m joking, think again. No matter what you’ve got up your cashmere sleeves, it’s not enough.”