Читать книгу Up Close and Personal - Fern Michaels - Страница 13

Jake looked at the little light blinking on his phone console. “Yes?” It was Stacy telling him his new client was in the waiting room. He shook down the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, shrugged into his lightweight jacket, and jerked at his tie before he got up to walk over to the door to greet Miss Julia Barrows, his brand-new client.

To his credit, Jake didn’t even blink. The urge to slam the door in Sarabess Windsor’s face was very strong, but he turned on his heel, his back ramrod stiff, and walked back to his desk.

“Don’t be tiresome, Jacob. This is business. I’m not an ogre. View this appointment as the mountain coming to Mohammed.”

Jake leaned as far back in his chair as he could. Sarabess leaned forward. Jake was aware of how charismatic she was, how elegant, how forceful. It didn’t change his feelings one iota. “I told my father to tell you I have no free time, and I’m not taking on any new clients. There’s nothing you can say or do, Mrs. Windsor, to make me change my mind. I think it’s safe to say it’s carved in stone.”

Sarabess leaned back in the comfortable client chair and crossed her legs. She had nice legs, Jake noted. He clarified the thought. For someone her age.

“The only thing I’m guilty of, Jacob, is…was a mother’s love for her child and wanting that child to have some kind of normal childhood. Your father warned me that I was stepping over the line of doting mother by forcing you and other youngsters to come up to the Hill to entertain my daughter. I’m sorry to say I didn’t listen to him. I did not steal your father’s affections. Your father and I were friends, but nothing, I repeat, nothing, happened while your mother and my husband were alive. In plain English, Jacob, there were no intimacies, no trysts, contrary to what you might have been led to believe. Neither your father nor I would permit something like that. We were married to other people. Two years after your mother’s death, that all changed, and I don’t deny it.”

“I’m really not interested in your love life, Mrs. Windsor, nor am I interested in my father’s. The two of you broke my mother’s heart. I resent your coming here under false pretenses. I can’t help you, and I don’t know why you’re so insistent on my doing so. I was quite clear with my father. And just to keep the record straight,” Jake said, as he remembered Lillian Henderson’s words of yesterday, “I resented the hell out of those command performances all us kids had to endure in regard to Emily. Your daughter was a mean, selfish, hateful little girl who lashed out at us, knowing it was what you did to others in your own way. Trinity Henderson used to get punished because she wouldn’t tolerate your daughter’s hatred. My mother and father had a verbal knockdown, drag-out fight when he tried to force me to go up to the Hill. I’m delighted to say, my mother finally won that argument.”

“Emily was a sick little girl.”

“Yes, she was. But you condoned everything she did. You allowed her to raise her hand to you. Billy Osborne told us all how Emily would spit on you when she threw one of her tantrums. You allowed that.”

Sarabess licked at her lips. “Guilty as charged,” she whispered. “Emily just wanted to be like all of you.”

“Well, she wasn’t like all of us. Had we known, I’m sure we would have been kinder and more tolerant. We were kids. If Emily had been a little nicer, a little less demanding, less spiteful, we would have welcomed her into our circle of playmates. I blame you, Mrs. Windsor.”

“And I accept that blame. I made mistakes. Perhaps one day your father will share some of those mistakes with you. I’m simply not up to it right now. I want you to find someone for me. I have no desire to broadcast my business, and I thought that you would be a little kinder and accommodate me. I want to…I want to make things right for this person I want you to find. Her name is Grace Finnegan. She’s roughly my age. I would like to make her last years more comfortable.”

“You’re a little late out of the gate, aren’t you, Mrs. Windsor? You want to make things right after a lifetime of wrongs. At least I think that’s what you’re saying. It doesn’t work that way for me. I can recommend an excellent private investigator. He works out of Columbia, so you won’t have to worry about his broadcasting your personal business.”

Sarabess knew she was beaten. She’d been so certain she could convince Jacob Forrest to help her. She didn’t need or want a private investigator, she needed the attorney-client privilege. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake at this point in time. She stood up and looked down at Jake. “I hope you can let go of your hatred, Jacob.”

Jake stood up. “Hatred is a strong word. Until yesterday I would have said I didn’t like you. I never would have used the word hatred. Who are you, and what right did you have to tell the Hendersons not to try to find Trinity Henderson? Who gave you the right to hold that man’s job over his head so he would obey your decree? The arrogance of you. Tell me that, Mrs. Windsor. It’s easy to see where Emily came by her own arrogance. Now, I do hate you. For all you know, Trinity Henderson could have been picked up by some pervert and abused or killed. My God, Mrs. Windsor, she was only fifteen years old. What you did was unforgivable. Yes, you made some mistakes, but you have to live with them, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do have to live with them. Good-bye, Jacob.”

“Good-bye, Mrs. Windsor.” Professional that he was, Jake escorted Sarabess Windsor to the door. The minute she was clear of the door, he kicked it shut. He was so angry, he wanted to smash something.

Stacy poked her head in the door. “Wasn’t that…?”

“Yes. Close the door, Stacy. Wait a minute. Is my father in his office?”

“He just arrived. He came in the back door. If your next question is, Did he see Mrs. Windsor?—the answer is no.” The door closed softly.

Jake stood rooted to the floor. He’d always been a responsible person. He never did foolish things. He was dedicated to his profession. He considered himself a man who cared. All thanks to his wonderful mother. He took a deep breath, walked over to the wall where his law degree hung. He removed it, packed up his briefcase, then wrote out an outrageous check to Stacy. His possessions under his arm, he walked out to his secretary’s desk, handed her the check, and said, “As of this moment, you are unemployed. Don’t say anything. Go home and plan your wedding.”

Jake strode down the hall to his father’s office. He didn’t bother to knock. He opened the door, and yelled, “I quit. It’s all yours, Pop! I want you out of my mother’s house, my house, by the close of business today. Move in with that bitch up at the Hill.”

“Jake! What the hell! What’s wrong with you?”

Jake lost it then. “You’re what’s wrong with me! You and that arrogant woman!” he shouted. He yanked the door closed and proceeded to gallop down the hall to the EXIT door. Outside in the bright summer sunshine, he looked around. There wasn’t a soul in sight in the parking lot. He didn’t have to look back at the building he’d just exited to know there were faces at the window watching him. Only God knew what they were thinking or saying. He sat in his car for a full minute trying to decide if he cared or not. He decided he didn’t care at all. The ignition caught and he barreled out of the lot. His destination: Mitzi’s house.

As he drove down Dorchester Road, Jake wondered what the hell was happening to him. He’d never done an irrational thing in his life. Well, he’d sure as hell gone for the brass ring this time.

Fifteen minutes later, Jake careened onto Mitzi’s driveway, at which point he slowed down to admire the landscaping, or lack of it. Everything looked au naturel, viny and overgrown, just the way Mitzi liked it. The vibrant purple wisteria was everywhere. Because of the exceptionally cold winter, the wisteria had been late to bloom. His mother had loved wisteria and had it climbing all over the pillars on the front porch, but she’d kept it pruned. She’d likened the beautiful flowers to bunches of grapes. Jake knew that the reason Mitzi let the flowers go wild was because of his mother. Sometimes he thought Mitzi had never gotten over his mother’s death.

The closer he got to the old house that had been his grandparents’, which had gone to Mitzi on their death, the better he could see that the Confederate jasmine was at war with the wisteria. He knew the jasmine would win out. Mitzi said it was an insidious plant. She claimed to have mutants. He knew little about plants, but he did know that he loved the scent.

Jake stopped the car before he got to the house, and a herd of animals raced toward him. He counted six dogs and five streaking cats that were hissing and snarling. A small goat named Annabelle brought up the rear. The only creature missing was Jezebel, the forty-five-year-old red and green parrot. He got out and let everyone sniff him before walking the rest of the way up to the house. Mitzi was standing on the verandah.

She waved and called a greeting. “Darlin’, it’s nice to see you again. You look terrible.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Jake said as he hugged his aunt. “What’s that smell?”

Mitzi laughed. “Sesame oil. I rubbed it all over to soften my wrinkles. I don’t think it works, but I’ll try anything once. Can I get you a beer?”

Jake looked around the verandah. The rockers were old, the fiber carpet just as old. Clay pots of summer flowers were everywhere. He liked coming here, sitting on the ratty rockers and talking to Mitzi with all the animals parading around, even the little goat who thought she was an indoor pet—which, in fact, she was. “What you can do is get me two beers and have three more standing by,” Jake said as he flopped down on his favorite rocker.

“That bad, huh?”

Jake sighed as one of the cats leaped onto his lap. Jezebel appeared out of nowhere and swooped across the porch to settle herself on his shoulder. He reached up to stroke the bird’s silky back as he looked up at the three paddle fans twirling overhead. “One of these days you’re going to get those tail feathers of yours singed, Jezzie.”

“Good boy, Jake,” the parrot squawked. “Jake is a good boy.”

“Damn straight on that, Jezzie.”

“Damn straight Jake is a good boy,” the parrot squawked again.

The screen door banged, and Mitzi appeared with a tray holding four bottles of beer. “Bottoms up, darlin’.”

Aunt and nephew chugged until the first bottle was empty. “Jezebel knows a hundred fifty words. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah, amazing.”

“So you quit, eh? Told your father off in the bargain and kicked his butt out of Nola’s house. Guess the Wicked Witch of the Hill thought you’d kowtow to her. Now, you want to talk about amazing…that’s amazing!”

“How do you do that? Who called you? I know it wasn’t Pop, so it must have been Stacy or Jocelyn. Well?”

“Does it matter? No, it doesn’t. Now what are you going to do?”

“Damn good question, Mitzi. I don’t have a clue. Yes, I kicked my father’s ass out of Mom’s house. I can’t believe I did that.”

“You should have done it four years ago. It will be interesting to see if he moves up to the Hill. Tongues will certainly wag if that happens.” Mitzi held out one of her skinny legs to display the new tattoo on the bottom of her big toe. “What do you think? I got it last week. Now there’s a career if you care to branch out. So, Sarabess wanted you to find someone named Grace Finnegan. Imagine that.”

“You have to stop marking up your body, Mitzi. You can get a disease from a dirty needle. I knew it! You bugged my office. Who the hell is Grace Finnegan?”

“For your information, darlin’, the needle was clean. I made sure. I like the idea of a bumblebee on the bottom of my big toe. I have no idea who Grace Finnegan is. Maybe she’s one of Sarabess’s relatives.” Mitzi shrugged her bony shoulders, an indication she couldn’t care less who Grace Finnegan was.

“I know you have an opinion on everything, Mitzi, so tell me, why do you think Sarabess Windsor wants to find some strange woman? She said she wanted to make sure this Grace Finnegan was taken care of in her old age or something like that. I find it odd that she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s looking for her. That fact alone tells me the woman is up to something, and that something is not good. I offered to get her a private detective in Columbia, but she didn’t want any part of that. My guess is that she wants the attorney-client privilege. Why isn’t she using my father?”

Mitzi turned contortionist so she could better view the bumblebee on her toe. “I have no idea. Nary a clue, darlin’. Sounds to me like you’re going to look into it on your own, would be my guess. Are you going to move into the house?”

Mitzi’s abrupt changes of thought and verbiage made Jake nuts. He should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t. “At some point I might. I was trying to make a point. Maybe I’ll move in here with you. Can I bring Elway?”

Mitzi roared with laughter. “Don’t push it, nephew. You’d go out of your mind in three days. Maybe two. But you’re more than welcome to take a shot at it.”

“I’m just talking to hear myself.” Jake thumped his empty beer bottle down on the table next to his chair.

“More beer! More beer!” Jezebel squawked.

“Is she smart or what?” Mitzi asked, getting up from the rocker. “How many, darlin’, to numb your pain?”

“Just keep bringing them till I tell you to stop. What the hell is going on, Mitzi? I think you know. Pop said you didn’t have the guts to write your memoirs. Because he pissed me off, I told him you were on chapter six. How come you didn’t mention anything about my visit to the Hendersons yesterday?”

Mitzi turned around in the doorway. “You went out to the Henderson farm? Why?”

“Hell, I don’t know why, I just did. I didn’t learn anything if that’s your next question. Sarabess didn’t want the Hendersons to report Trinity’s running away to the police. I guess she threatened Mr. Henderson with his job if he did. They buckled the way most people buckle when Sarabess issues an edict.”

The screen door slammed shut. One of the dogs nosed it open and held it so the other animals could scurry through, even the miniature goat. Jake wondered if Mitzi had taught the golden dog how to open the door. He looked up when Mitzi plopped an entire six-pack down in an ice bucket. “Go for it, nephew.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t know I went to the Hendersons?”

“No, Jake, I didn’t know. What did you hope to learn?”

“I wanted to know if Trinity has been in touch with them. Mrs. Henderson said Trinity sent a money order for the three hundred dollars she took when she ran away. There was no note, no message of any kind, but the envelope had a Pennsylvania postmark. I don’t know why I say this, but I don’t think Mrs. Henderson or her husband ever told Sarabess about that. I wish I had asked, but I didn’t, so it’s just a feeling I have.

“You know what, Mitzi? Mrs. Henderson didn’t act like any mother I’ve ever met. C’mon, Mitzi, tell me what you know.”

Mitzi stared across the balcony at the profusion of wisteria blooms. She looked to be in another place. Almost like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Jake jerked upright in the rocker. “What, Mitzi? Tell me.”

Mitzi turned around, tears in her eyes. “Trinity is Sarabess Windsor’s daughter. Lillian and John Henderson are not her real parents. Emily had aplastic anemia. The doctors here said there was nothing they could do for her. Sarabess wouldn’t accept that. She found out that if she had Harold’s baby, the bone marrow could be used to save Emily. That’s exactly what happened.

“The only thing I didn’t know at first was the identity of the father. When Sarabess left for New York and took Emily with her, with virtually no one knowing that she was pregnant, I thought…your mother thought…it was Rifkin. Of course he denied it. Your parents drifted further apart after that. Ironically, had we known what was really going on, she would never have accused Rifkin of being the father, since even Harold’s child had only a one-in-four chance of being a compatible donor. And as Trinity grew, it became obvious she was Harold’s daughter.

“Sarabess had the baby’s bone marrow stored the minute Trinity was born, then Emily went through chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Sarabess spent money on the best heme/oncologists in the country. I looked into the procedure, and it’s relatively simple. A transfusion done by a transplant team. The baby, Trinity, was brought back here and given to the Hendersons to raise. Those of us who knew that Sarabess had been pregnant never said a word. We certainly did not want Trinity to be raised by someone like Sarabess, who devoted every waking moment to Emily. She had no time for little Trinity, who had been born only so Emily could live. She didn’t even exist as far as Sarabess was concerned and was better off away from that house.

“That little girl deserved to be loved, and I’m sure the Hendersons did their best, but they were hired hands. They would dude Trinity up in fine clothes and Mary Jane slippers and take her up to the Hill for holidays. Then they’d take her back to the farm when Emily got cranky and the party was over. Trinity was everything Emily wasn’t. She was healthy, happy, always laughing and smiling. The children all liked her. God only knows what that child thought when she was forced to go up to the Hill. That’s when I stepped in, and Lillian and I covered for each other where Trinny was concerned. There, now you know. What are you going to do about it, Jake?”

Jake was so stunned he could barely get his tongue to work. “How long did Emily live after the procedure?” he asked in a choked voice.

“Thirteen very long years. I think Trinity somehow found out, and that’s why she ran away. That’s strictly my opinion, Jake.”

“How did you find out about Sarabess’s pregnancy?”

“You don’t need to know that, Jake.”

“Yeah, Mitzi, I do need to know.”

“Harold told me. Harold and I had been…friends…for a long time. Before he ever married Sarabess. He came out here the day before Sarabess was due to return from New York. He needed to talk to someone, and that someone turned out to be me. He told me everything but swore me to secrecy. I’ve kept that secret for the most part. I did share it with your mother because I knew she’d never tell anyone, and I didn’t want her continuing to think her husband had done something he hadn’t done. As much as I don’t like your father, I could not allow your mother to torture herself over it. Harold was a regular visitor here after Sarabess returned. I doubt she even missed him. Now you know.”

“Yes, now I know.”