by Dorie Graham
“Then let me make this quick.” She headed for a bistro set, pausing while he pulled out her chair and then took the one across from her. “I have some new items from Albert’s travels.”
“New items?” Surprise filled him. “I thought we had the complete collection.”
Albert Dixon had been meticulous in cataloging his pride and joy. Chase had pored over the list and every item was accounted for.
Her gaze darted away and then back. “It’s another crate.” Again her gaze diverted. “It was in storage. I’d like for you to come to the house to look it over, help me to get an idea of what the appraised value might be.”
Chase glanced at her in surprise. “You want to appraise it? You don’t plan to donate it to the existing collection? Are you wanting to sell it?”
She bit her lip. “Unfortunately, I’ve made some bad investments. Nothing irreparable, but I have an idea these few pieces would put me back on track. Besides, the museum has such a nice collection already. I’m not sure where we’d put another artifact.”
“I see. I’m not certified to do any appraising, but I can give you an unofficial estimate of value.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“I’ll look at my schedule and let you know when I can stop by.”
Her smile brightened. “Excellent.”
His cell phone vibrated. “Excuse me, this is Donna. I should get it.”
She quirked her mouth to the side. “You can’t let her proof the marketing materials next time. She did a poor job. They completely screwed it up. You’ll need to see to all of that yourself going forward.”
Irritation had him clenching his jaw as he unlocked his phone. He didn’t have time to argue with her. “We’ll have to discuss that later. I have to get this.”
She patted his arm. “You go ahead, darling. I’ll be expecting to hear from you when you get back. We can talk before the gala.”
He bid her goodbye and then moved away to answer his cell. “Took you long enough.”
“I got stuck on a call with Public Programs,” Donna said. “They need to talk to you before you head out.”
Shit. He’d be lucky to catch his flight at this rate. All he needed was another red-eye.
“Chase, I have something I need to talk to you about, too.”
“That sounds ominous. Shoot.”
She chuckled softly. “Well, you know how I always go with you to the fund-raisers, instead of you getting a real date?”
He groaned. The last time he’d gone stag to a fund-raising event, Paula Dixon had gotten drunk and hit on him. He’d sworn to never attend alone after that. “Donna, please tell me you aren’t ditching me.”
“You know, technically, you never asked me this time. You can’t just assume I’m always going to be available. I have a boyfriend now. He wants to go with me.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, Chase, maybe find yourself a real girl to take.”
“Like a real date?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes, like a real date. You might even enjoy it.”
“Fine,” he said and disconnected. God, he hated his job.
* * *
LATE THAT AFTERNOON Chase pulled to the curb in front of the house where Kara and a number of other foster and natural children lived with her foster parents. Frustration filled him. He’d already bumped back his flight, but he still needed to hurry if he were going to make it.
Still, he’d promised Kara he’d see Pansy before he left. Hopefully the woman was home. The place stood in stark contrast to the Petersons’ house. Patches of Georgia clay showed between clumps of tall weeds in the yard, and a blue tarp was draped around the base of the chimney. A bicycle lay on its side in the driveway beside a child-size plastic car, the color faded by the sun, and the garage door stood open, revealing towers of half-opened boxes and shelves of miscellaneous tools and other discarded items.
Chase had met Pansy Ashford on one other occasion, when he’d given Kara a ride home. Though the woman hadn’t been overly friendly, she seemed reasonable enough. Surely, she’d be okay with his stepsister staying with him for one school night so he could drop her off early for a help session with her trig teacher.
Loud voices filtered through the open garage door as Chase approached the house. He veered in that direction and the conversation became clearer as he approached the open kitchen door off the garage. Kara, her arms filled with an overflowing laundry basket, stood with her back to him.
Pansy must have been at the stove, out of his sight, but her words rang clearly across the space. “I told you to get dinner started an hour ago. Now I have to stop what I was doing so I can do what you were supposed to do.”
Chase paused. Should he interrupt?
“You told me to do the laundry first, because Lori needed her softball uniform for tonight’s practice,” Kara said.
“Are you back-talking me?”
“No, ma’am, I was only trying to do what you asked me to do. Besides, I was doing laundry when I was half Lori’s age. Maybe she could have taken care of her own uniform.”
“You think because you did laundry at her age, she should do the same?”
“It never hurt me to do my own laundry,” Kara said, her voice subdued.
A harsh laugh escaped Pansy. “Why on earth would I want her to turn out anything like you? You’re useless. You’ll never amount to anything.”
Anger simmered through Chase as he knocked on the open door. He wasn’t going to stand by and let the woman belittle Kara this way.
Kara turned to him, moisture brimming in her eyes. “Chase.”
“Hey,” Chase said as he stepped into the kitchen. Pansy stood over a cutting board, knife in hand. He met her gaze, saying, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“You are,” Pansy said, “but I don’t guess that’s going to stop you.”
“I’ll make this quick, then, especially since I have a flight to catch. I’d like Kara to stay with me one night, so I can drop her off early at school to meet with her math teacher.”
The woman stared hard at him for a long minute. “It won’t make a difference. She’s going to fail either way.”
Chase stepped in front of the woman and kept his voice low. “I don’t care about whatever happened to you to make you so miserable, but how you treat Kara matters to me. I’m asking you nicely this time to start treating her with a little more respect.”
Pansy’s gaze flickered away to the celery on her cutting board. “If you want her, take her, but I’m not driving her anywhere.”
“I’ll ride the bus.” Kara grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door, the laundry basket balanced on her hip.
He turned to her when they reached his car. “Is she always like that?”
“Not always. She has her good days. You see now why I hate it here?”
He nodded. He’d have to talk to his father. He’d been on a good sober streak. Maybe he could take the girl in. At the very least, Kara would be a good influence on his father. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”
“I don’t want to live with him and he wouldn’t have me, anyway. He blames me for my mom leaving, you know. He can’t accept that she left both of us. Then he’d have to admit his drinking was part of what drove her away.”
“He’s been doing better.”
“Why can’t I live with you, Chase?” Kara shifted the basket. “I swear I wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“I don’t know, Kara. I’m gone so much.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Her gaze held his, pleading.
He looked away. “I’ll talk to Dad. He’s been doing better lately. I’ll help him see it would be better for both of you if you stayed with him. If DFCS will let him.”
She nodded and he slipped into his car.
“Monday, next week. Will that work for me to come stay?” she asked.
“Sure, Kara.”
“Okay, I’ll tell my teacher I’ll be
in early Tuesday, then. I’ll catch the bus to your house after work.”
With a final nod, he pulled from the curb. He’d stop in to see his father when he returned. Whether his father took her in or not, something had to change. Kara shouldn’t have to stay where she wasn’t appreciated.
CHAPTER SIX
THE SMELL OF ALCOHOL emanated from the old faux-leather recliner in Chase’s father’s den that weekend. Chase shook his head and searched the crevice around the seat cushion, then under the chair before locating the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He shoved the chair aside to find the stain on the carpet where the open bottle had landed, spilling part of the contents. He knelt, carpet cleaner spray bottle and rag in hand.
“You don’t have to do that.” His father, Roy Carrolton, leaned against the doorjamb, cradling a coffee cup in his palms.
“Is that just coffee?” Chase asked, disappointment filling him. Why had he thought his father would be ready to take on Kara?
“Yes,” his father said, weariness weighing the word. “It’s just coffee.” He offered the cup to Chase. “See for yourself.”
“When was the last time you made it to a meeting?”
“A while. I’ll go today. I’m sorry, son.”
Chase refused to be swayed by his father’s contrite attitude. They’d had this conversation too many times before. “I’m not the one you’re hurting.”
“I’ll do better.”
Chase stood and faced his father. “Aren’t you tired of doing this—of having this same conversation? It’s getting old.”
“I didn’t ask you to come by.”
“What would happen if I stopped?” Chase asked, gesturing to the chair. “Would you sit there and drink yourself into a coma?”
His father shook his head, but offered no other answer. Chase strode into the kitchen to put away the cleaner and toss the rag and whiskey bottle. He yanked open the refrigerator and stared at the empty shelves. At least they were devoid of beer.
“You need groceries. When was the last time you ate?”
His father turned from his spot to face him, without stepping any closer. “I ate yesterday. I’ll get food later. If it makes you so angry, why did you come here?”
Chase slammed the refrigerator door. “I came for Kara.”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “That one is trouble. Why do you even bother with her?”
“She’s my sister.”
“Ex-stepsister. There’s no blood between you.”
Chase gritted his teeth to keep from saying she was all he had. His father was a burden and hadn’t been a real father to him for decades, not since he’d driven away any other living relatives. Indulging in an outburst would be of no good, though.
“She doesn’t have anyone else,” he said instead. “She’s a troubled kid, but all she needs is a little direction. I thought since you’d been doing better you might agree to let her stay here. It would be good for you to have someone around, but I see that isn’t an option now.”
A harsh laugh escaped his father. “That’s never going to be an option. It isn’t my fault she’s on her own. She shouldn’t have driven her mother away.”
“And you had no part of that?” Chase stared hard at his father.
The man’s gaze dropped. “If you’re so worried about her, why don’t you take her in?”
Chase straightened. Did he have a choice? “I just may do that.”
* * *
“HI, RUTH.” ALEX SETTLED into the chair beside her mother. “I’m Alex.”
It felt odd introducing herself to her mother, but her sister Becky had been adamant this would make things easier on their mother, especially since she hadn’t remembered Alex on her last couple of visits. Sunlight streamed through the wide picture window of the sitting room of the Alzheimer’s ward at Parkside Healthcare Center. Other residents dotted the room, sitting with visitors or wandering around the circular area.
“Hello,” her mother, Ruth Peterson, said, glancing at her, wide-eyed. “Do I know you?”
Alex tamped down her disappointment. She saw her mother so rarely. Becky had sent a warning via Megan that their mother’s lucid periods were growing shorter and less frequent. “Yes, but I haven’t been to see you in a while. I’ve just come from Baltimore.”
“Baltimore,” her mother echoed.
“It’s a nice place. I like it there. I moved there for work after I graduated from college.”
Her mother frowned, but made no response.
Alex silently chided herself. Becky had said to keep sentences short. “It’s warm outside.”
“The sun is nice.”
“Would you like to go for a walk?”
A smile lit her mother’s face. “Yes, in the...the...” She frowned. “Where the flowers are...open.”
Alex stood and offered her hand. “The flowers are blooming in the garden.”
“I...” Her mother shook her head as she rose. “My words.”
“I forget my words, too, sometimes,” Alex said as she led her mother outside to the path along the garden. Becky hadn’t mentioned the deterioration in her speech.
Alex’s throat tightened. She missed how her mom used to comfort her whenever anything went wrong. It sucked that here she was without a job, living with her adulterous father because Robert had cancer and her mother had no idea what was happening, let alone any capacity to comfort her. It sucked that her mother was only fifty-nine, but was stricken with early-onset Alzheimer’s.
“I have five children.” Her mother turned her face up to the sun.
“Yes.” Alex smiled. It was a small memory, but at least she remembered that.
Her mother’s smile faded and she frowned. “What is this place?”
“It’s Parkside. Will you tell me about your children? What are they like?” Alex asked in an effort to deflect the question.
The last time her mother had asked anything like that, Alex had tried to explain to her about her illness and why she was there. Her mother had gotten so agitated a nurse had needed to sedate her.
“I have five.” Her smile returned. “Two boys and three girls.”
“That’s a lot of kids.”
“Robert is...first, then Alex, Steven, Megan and...after...is Becky.”
“Yes,” Alex said and squeezed her hand, excited she’d remembered all their names.
“They all get along so nicely.” Her mother pointed at a rosebush in full bloom. “Aren’t the roses...”
“Beautiful,” Alex finished for her. “Yes, they are.” She smiled, enjoying being with her mother, even if she offered Alex little comfort.
If only Alex could travel back in time to that place her mother remembered, to the happy days when they’d all gotten along. When Chase had been a part of their family and she’d been crazy about him for as long as she could remember. This time with Robert’s illness would be so much easier to handle if they were all united and strong the way they’d once been.
But there was no going back. She had only to face today with its stark realities. Thoughts of Chase plagued her, but she managed to keep them at bay...most of the time. Somehow, she’d find a way to make peace with Robert and help him in the process. Her father she’d have to take one day at a time. At least he was doing all he could for Robert. Certainly that counted for something.
* * *
“HEY, BUDDY, WHAT’S UP?” Tony Abeline, an old friend of Chase’s, who practiced family law, shook Chase’s hand and then gestured toward a seat.
Chase sank into the chair. Why did Tony always seem to have it all together? The man had a beautiful wife, two kids and a successful career. He had everything Chase lacked.
“I, evidently, have issues,” Chase said.
Tony chuckled softly. “And you’re just now figuring this out?”
“I was just at an Al-Anon meeting. I was giving my old man grief for not attending his AA meetings and I realized I hadn’t been to a meeting myself in a long time.”
&n
bsp; “So the good people at Al-Anon helped you figure out all your issues?”
“The good people kindly pointed out my issues. I told them I hate all the travel for work and, basically, they told me I need to take a stand. And even though we were talking about work, I see that isn’t the only area I need to do that with. I’m usually on the fence about stuff, you know. I like to stay neutral or take my time about deciding things, but maybe that time is over and I just need to get clear—make those decisions.”
“Take a stand.”
“Yes, about work and other stuff, but for now about Kara.”
Tony nodded. “Are you sure you want to do this? We shouldn’t have to formally petition for custody. All we need to do in this case is inform your stepsister’s caseworker that you want to obtain guardianship. They’ll do an in-depth Relative Care Assessment, or RCA. We’ll need to prove you’re related through marriage. I know the girl’s mother is long gone, right?”
Chase frowned. Could he prove their relationship? He was Kara’s brother. He knew her better than anyone else. She’d be best off in his care. “I don’t know if I can get my hands on proof, but we are family. We are related. She’s my sister. They can’t not let this happen on a technicality. Can they?”
Tony shrugged. “We just need to prove the relationship, show them a marriage license.”
“I may be able to find that. I don’t know if they ever actually divorced,” Chase said. “As far as I know, Dad never saw Kara’s mother or heard from her again after she split, but if they did divorce would it matter?”
“It wouldn’t matter. You’d still be considered family. See if you can get a copy of the marriage license. If not, I’ll dig one up in the public records.”
Chase groaned inwardly. His father wasn’t the most organized, even when sober, and that marriage had been over sixteen years ago. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Once you make your request for guardianship, they’ll have thirty days to complete the RCA and send you written notification of the agency’s decision. You can possibly get an immediate placement, though, if you have a documented history, home safety check and—” he grinned “—they check your record to make sure none of your criminal activities show up.”