by Dana Nussio
Ainsley handed the platter to Callum’s fiancée, Hazel, who then passed it to Callum. With the help of her future stepdad, little Evie was the next to pass the plate.
Finally, it landed in Asher’s hands. The sides of mashed potatoes, green beans and country corn bread that followed were all colder than the cook preferred to serve them, but he’d been late, after all.
“So, Asher, what kept you?” Ainsley asked too casually. “Was there a problem at your new day-care center? What’s it called? Tender Years?”
Asher swallowed a bite of chicken and his annoyance and then wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Good memory. But, everything’s great there. Harper’s loving it.”
He caught his older sister’s attention and frowned at her. Sure, he hadn’t gotten around to telling the whole family yet about the possible second baby switch, but he didn’t plan to unload all the information on them at dinner. Particularly not Mom.
With as much as she’d had to deal with lately, he owed it to her to deliver the news gently that her first grandchild might not be related to her. Maybe he would even wait until the DNA results arrived so that he could offer the question and the answer at the same time.
He hoped Ainsley would stop trying to push him into sharing before he was ready, but he doubted he would get that lucky. An attorney to the core, she was used to winning every argument.
His stomach sank as she folded her hands on the table in front of her and smiled benignly.
“I had the chance to meet the owner of Tender Years the other night when Asher brought her to the hospital.” She grinned at Asher. “Well, meet her again, I guess. I went to high school for a little while with Willow Johnson. Oh. Right. It’s Willow Merrill now, but she wasn’t wearing a ring.”
He frowned at his sister again. It was a good reminder that he should never get on her bad side. He either had to tell them the whole story right then or let them wonder about a romance between him and Willow. Coward that he was, he chose silence...and speculation.
Grayson leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “I think I remember a Willow from school. She was the class behind me. Dark, curly hair, right? Real pretty?”
“How pretty?”
At her question, Savannah Oliver, Grayson’s brand-new fiancée, leaned forward from her seat beside his and lifted a brow.
Asher straightened in his chair, as well. He knew it was an observation from a long time ago, but it still didn’t sit well with him that his half brother had been checking out his friend. Was that what he should call the woman he hadn’t stopped thinking about since they’d made out in his truck the week before?
He tried to be casual, sliding his fork into his chicken breast and pulling off a chunk, but his brother wasn’t paying attention to him, anyway. Ainsley, on the other hand, was watching him with open curiosity.
Grayson reached for Savannah’s hand and laced their fingers together. “For me, no one comes close to you.”
Rafe pulled an imaginary weapon from a pretend holster and aimed it at his brother. “Hands up. It’s the mushy police.”
“Oh, you would have said something just as lovey-dovey to Kerry if she weren’t working long hours at the police department lately,” Marlowe pointed out.
“You would, too, if Bowie wasn’t out to dinner with a client,” Rafe said.
Marlowe shrugged, not denying it. “Anyway, didn’t your fiancée tell you it’s not safe to point weapons at people, even if they aren’t loaded?”
Again, laughter spread around the table as several of her siblings agreed that they both would have been as syrupy as Grayson if their future spouses were there.
Asher expected his mother to hush them again. Instead, she pinned him with her incisive stare.
“You brought a woman to the hospital?”
She’d been more protective of their father the past few months than even their brothers and sisters. He took a closer look at her, taking in the blue-black half circles of exhaustion that had formed beneath her eyes. The strain was getting to her. She was already dealing with so much that he couldn’t bring himself to give her one more thing to worry about.
“Willow, uh, just came along as a favor to me. I needed to finish with the day-care center paperwork, but if I didn’t get to the hospital right away, I was going to miss visiting hours.”
“That was kind of her.”
His mother’s gaze narrowed, showing she wasn’t buying it. Just like when he was a kid, she could always tell when he was making things up. He scrambled for a better explanation but settled for a subject change instead.
“Have we heard anything more about Jace’s DNA test?” He addressed the matter while trying to ignore the heat of his mother’s gaze on him.
Ainsley shrugged. “If you’d been here earlier, you would have already heard this, but I got a call from the lab that there’s another delay. They said the test had to be repeated.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. First, the delay and now a repeat?” It gave him an idea about what he and Willow would be facing in a few days, but he didn’t mention it.
Jace shook his head. “Yeah, I was so sorry to hear it. And I offered again to move to the Dales Inn, but your mom and brothers and sisters asked me to stay put. Is that still okay with you?”
Asher nodded. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
Ainsley appeared poised to try a third time to get him to talk about Willow and the possible switch, but a cell phone rang before she had the chance.
“Okay, who has the phone at the table?” Callum called out.
A chorus of not me’s rang out.
The “no-phone rule” was one of the few battles that Genevieve Colton won at her dinners. Usually.
“Then whose is it?” she asked.
With an apologetic expression, Marlowe produced a phone from beneath the table. “Sorry, Mom. After the bomb threat...”
Her words fell away as she glanced at the display. Without looking up again, she clicked the screen to answer the call.
“What’s up, Daniel?” She nodded with the phone at her ear as she struggled to her feet, as if the person she spoke to could see her. “Which mystery are you talking about, and what did you find out about it?”
“Okowski?” Ainsley mouthed. At her sister’s nod, she added, “Put him on speaker.”
Marlowe shot a glance at her mother for approval and then lowered into her chair again, set her phone on the table and clicked the speaker button. With so many unusual happenings at Colton Oil, they all wanted to hear what the company’s information technology director had learned.
“Go ahead, Daniel. You’re on speaker with most of the family. You caught us all at dinner.”
“Hello, Coltons.”
They called out greetings at once.
“We have a lead on a dark web connection to the anonymous email about Ace. Should I wait to inform the board in private, or should I tell you all now?”
Everyone waited for Marlowe’s lead since, as Colton Oil CEO, it was her call. She glanced around the table at her siblings and their partners, and then her gaze paused on Jace.
“I’ll step out,” Jace said. “I need to make a call anyway.”
She nodded at him apologetically.
Genevieve lifted a hand to him as he walked toward the living room. “You’ll be back for dessert, won’t you? We have Dulcie’s double-chocolate cake.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m already salivating.” He continued from the room.
As soon as a click announced the front door was closed, Marlowe addressed the phone on the table.
“Okay, you can speak freely. It’s just family now. I’ll update Selina afterward.”
Asher leaned forward. “So, tell us. Who was it?”
“The police found a link to a guy named Harley Watts.”
Rafe shook his head.
“Daniel, this is Rafe. I don’t recognize the name.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Daniel said. “But the police were able to connect him to a few references about Colton Oil on a dark web board where illegal activities are bought and sold like want ads.”
Asher planted his hands on the edge of the table. This meandering story was getting them nowhere.
“It’s Asher. Cut to the chase, man. Did he write the email or not?”
Daniel’s chuckle came through the speaker. “Yes, the police found the email to Colton Oil that said, from ‘Classified,’ right in his sent box. They arrested him.”
“Guess he wasn’t much of a computer expert, after all, if the police were able to catch him,” Marlowe said.
“Right about that, boss,” Daniel said. “Watts refuses to give the identity of the person who hired him. He is being charged under interference with commerce laws for his implied threats of exposure of the secrets affecting the structure of Colton Oil.”
Marlowe puffed up her cheeks and blew out a breath. Her skin was ruddy again, like it had been after the bomb threat. Their mother wasn’t the only one dealing with a lot lately.
“That’s great, Daniel. Do you think the district attorney will be able to convince him to cooperate in the investigation?”
“It’s not looking likely.”
Ainsley rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t he cooperate? He could face up to twenty years in federal prison if convicted.”
“That’s true, but he probably realizes that the information investigators already have on his computer will connect him with other convicted felons on the clandestine board. The DA will petition for his parole to be revoked.” Daniel sighed audibly. “I guess he figured it wouldn’t serve him well to talk.”
“Just our luck,” Rafe called out.
Grumbles of agreement all around the table announced their common frustration as Marlowe ended the call. Too many questions, never enough answers. It was the story of their lives lately, and the rest of them didn’t even know the full tale.
Marlowe glanced over at Rafe. “Did you know anything about the arrest?”
“Me? Kerry doesn’t tell me anything about her job. She says it wouldn’t be professional, but I think she just doesn’t want me to worry.”
For several minutes, no one spoke as they ate a few more bites and sipped their wine.
Asher even considered making the announcement about his personal mystery right then. It wasn’t as if their spirits could get any lower.
Then the five-year-old, who’d been sitting so quietly beside him, shifted and came up on her knees so she sat as tall as some of the adults.
“Did someone say ‘dessert’?”
Jace strode through the door then, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “Yeah. What she said.”
“You sure timed that one,” Grayson said.
Again, the room filled with laughter. The moment had passed, and Asher hated admitting his relief that it had. He would tell them all about the possible baby switch. Soon. Individually instead of en masse. Anyway, he would share his story with at least one family member that night.
Maybe Payne Colton had dropped the ball dozens of times during Asher’s childhood, but right now he could do one thing from that hospital bed that he’d never done before. Something Asher needed more than he could ever know. He could be a good listener.
Chapter 17
“You’re looking better today.”
Asher shook his head as he patted his father’s pale hand on top of the blanket. He didn’t know why he said that every time he visited. It wasn’t true. Dad looked the same. Broken. Fragile. Words he never would have used to describe the mountain that was Payne Colton.
“On second thought, you look like crap. I want you to wake up right now and get back to work. We need you.”
He scooted the chair closer to the bed and waited. Payne’s chest rose and fell in the same monotonous and assisted rhythm as before, his regular heartbeat drawing a squiggly but relatively even line on the heart monitor. Asher lifted his father’s hand and squeezed, but when he released his hold, it dropped with a soft thud back to the sheets.
Asher gripped the plastic bedrail instead, squeezing so hard that his knuckles flashed white. What had he expected? That his father would pull a Lazarus and wake up right then? Sure, Dad would have liked to make a statement like that, but wherever he was, he must have felt safe there, as he didn’t seem ready to return yet.
“Okay, then. Stay there if you need to. But just for a while, okay? Remember your grandbaby, Harper? She’s getting so big now. You’re missing out on the chance to see her grow.”
He pushed aside his own resentment that elbowed in every time he thought of his dad. Besides, they now shared something in common that no father should ever face.
“I finally understand how you were feeling when you found out that Ace possibly wasn’t yours. The hospital’s said the same thing about Harper and me.”
Even recognizing that this was a one-sided conversation didn’t stop him from pausing and waiting for his father’s response.
“Deep in my soul, I know she’s my child, but then you thought the same thing about Ace. Felt the same thing. Yet you were wrong.”
He couldn’t bring himself to put to words the question swirling in his mind that he could have been mistaken, as well.
“I’m a lousy son, but part of the reason I wanted you to wake up was so you could see that I’m a good dad. Maybe better than you.” He shook his head, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “I know. It’s terrible.”
His voice broke on the last. He lifted his chin and tilted his head back and blinked several times. He had to stay in control, at least for his daughter’s sake.
“I met Willow because of this mess. She was here the other night, but you were too rude to wake up and give her a proper hello.”
He paused again, hoping, and then finally he continued.
“You’d like her, I think. She’s a take-no-prisoners person. Kind of like you.”
He grinned at the comparison. Until he’d spoken the words, he’d never realized how true they were. She was strong-willed and single-minded in her determination to keep her business and the security she’d worked so hard to build for her family.
Just like Payne had.
Asher blinked again in the muted lights that illuminated his father’s bed. No matter what he could say about him, he never should have doubted that Payne had made so many of his decisions to protect not only the business, but also the family. Maybe that had been his way of showing the children he loved them. Had Asher been looking for more, to the exclusion of seeing what was already there?
“I asked her to marry me. Can you believe it?” He shook his head, still finding it hard to believe himself.
“Yeah, she turned me down flat. I’m zero-for-two in the proposal business. First, with Nora, though that was more of a suggestion than an actual proposal, and now Willow. She said she didn’t want to marry someone who didn’t love her.”
He propped his elbows on top of the bedrail, clasped his hands together and pressed his thumbs to his forehead just between his eyebrows.
“Can’t blame her, I guess.”
He also couldn’t admit that her rejection had stung, nor that his feelings about Willow weren’t as indifferent as he would have liked to believe. Was it because they were trapped together inside a puzzle where the pieces might produce a picture that neither of them wanted to accept?
“She’ll get over it.” But would he?
He continued to update his father on the rest of the recent developments involving the family, from the possible baby switch to the bomb threat to the damaged fencing. The list included the unusual events at Tender Years, though he admitted he still hadn’t worked out whether there was a connection between those and the attacks on their family. Sure, he gl
ossed over a few details, but a gentleman never kissed and told.
A strange peace filled him when he’d finished. Whether it was a message from his father that everything would be all right or just his own mind’s reprieve from the worry, he wasn’t sure, but he was relieved anyway.
A pile of cards on the bedside bureau caught his eye. They had been stacking up since so many friends and business associates wanted to offer their well-wishes, and only so many flowers could be crammed in one room.
Asher crossed to the pile of cards and rifled through them. Marlowe had been handling them until then, having Payne’s admin, Dee Walton, send thank-you notes for the cards and flowers. Obviously, they’d gotten behind.
He carried the stack over to the bed, opening and reading the sentiments, both printed and handwritten, inside each one.
“You definitely have a lot of friends, Dad,” he said after reading a flowery comment. “Or a lot of people who owe you a favor.”
He grinned at that. His dad would have gotten a chuckle out of it, too. His chest squeezed that he might never hear that full-throated laugh again, but he shook his head, pushing the thought away. It wouldn’t help anyone.
To distract himself, he opened the next get-well card, its message on the front as benign and well-meaning as all the others. But at the note written in block uppercase letters inside, his breath caught.
Oh, too bad you won’t get well because I’ll be back to finish you when your family least expects it.
Could this be from the same saboteur who’d called in the bomb threat and cut the fence? Or was this from the real shooter? Was he finding connections where they didn’t exist, or missing real associations at everyone’s peril? Even Willow’s?
With fumbling fingers, he reached for his phone and found the personal cell number for MVPD Sergeant Spencer Colton.
Spencer answered on the second ring.
“What’s going on, Asher?”
His distant cousin didn’t bother with niceties. They’d rarely spoken to each other before the past few months, and now they were in regular contact.