Gotcha! (20 page)

M
yra and Annie trailed behind Julie and the dogs as they walked around her property to inspect the damage from the hurricane, which turned out to be minimal. Downed limbs, bushes that were waterlogged, soggy ground from the torrential rain, and a few overturned trash cans.

“We lucked out,” Julie said as she pointed to an oak limb as thick as a barrel. “That’s the worst of it. The gardener will have it all back to normal in a few days, and I’ll have enough wood to last me through the winter from just that one limb. I’m just glad the girls had no damage, either. Connie called to say the boys’ houses are fine. You just never know with hurricanes and tropical storms. They hype these storms, get people all riled up, and for the most part that’s a good thing. But when they fizzle out, people tend to get lackadaisical about it all. Other times, it’s just words to fill up the news hour.”

Annie stepped over a puddle in the driveway. “Do you think Ollie is all right?”

“I’m sure she is. Larry’s house is sturdy and brick. He didn’t have the hurricane shutters, but there are areas in the house that have no windows. I’m sure Darlene kept her safe. At least, I want to believe that. Come along, let’s go inside before the dogs take it into their heads to roll around in the mini-lakes on the property.”

Myra stared at her new friend, hating the redness around her eyes and the grim set to her jaw. All the while they’d been hunkered down inside the house, the ferocious winds whipping about outside, Julie had pretended to sleep. Even in the dim light of the family room, both she and Annie had seen her wiping at the tears in the corners of her eyes.

Both women had been surprised but had remained quiet when Julie had not asked the New York lawyer to stay at the house after he dropped Lola off. It was so unlike Julie that they had whispered back and forth about it far into the night.

Back inside the house, the dogs went off to the den, where their toys were scattered about, and Julie prepared the coffeepot. When she was done, she stood in the center of the kitchen and said, “I know you’re wondering what’s going on. I’m sorry I didn’t . . . it was just that . . . it was all such . . . I guess I’m still in shock. I do need to talk about this, though. I know that. Maybe you can help me make sense of . . . of . . . what’s going on.”

“We’re good listeners, Julie,” Myra said gently. “Tell us only what you’re comfortable telling us.”

Annie poured the coffee. “I talk and think best when I’m moving about. It all started a few months back. I was at the bank one day, and when I came out to get in my truck, this man leaned out the window of his car. It was a real fancy one, high dollar if you know what I mean. He asked me if I knew where he could find a short-term rental. He looked nice, and he had Lola, and without even stopping to think, I said I had a rental, meaning the cottage. I looked at it as extra money, and I could get my truck fixed and have some money left over. Foodies don’t make a lot of money, and we only get paid while the programs are shooting and we had just done a wrap for six months. He took me up on my offer. He followed me home. We struck a deal, and Lola made friends with my dogs. That was the clincher for me. I judge people by the way they treat their animals. Anyway, he said his name was Oliver Goldfeld, and he was a lawyer from New York. Of course, that wasn’t really his name. That night on the news, I saw how Mace Carlisle’s wife was accusing him of all kinds of things.

“I stayed up all night googling and printing out information on Mace and on Oliver Goldfeld. I opted to keep what I knew to myself. I never let Mace know I knew about his deception until the day he left.

“I have to say, I grew to like the man during the time he was here. He was kind, generous, considerate. I used him as a guinea pig to test recipes for a cookbook I had convinced myself I was going to write. I charged him for breakfast and gave him a cut-rate fee on the dinners. After dinner, we would sit on the veranda with the dogs and have coffee and talk until it got dark.

“There was nothing romantic about our relationship at all. We became really good friends, and he loved it here in Rosemont. I have to admit that the months he was here were the happiest I’ve been since . . . since Larry died. That’s the other thing; we never talked about Larry, but that was by my choice. But we talked about everything else under the sun. I think he knew about Larry. I’m sure he googled me the same way I googled him. And if he didn’t, I bet that the real Oliver Goldfeld did.

“Then one day my lawyer in New York called to tell me Oprah’s company had seen my food show and was offering me a spot on Oprah Radio for an astronomical sum of money. I was so stupid, I didn’t put two and two together until later. I think Mace was behind it. But, I have to say, he never let on. When I told him, he was so happy for me. It was all just pleasant, and I looked forward to cooking for him, hearing whether he liked my recipes. And, of course, being a woman, I basked in his praise. And there was never any hint that whatever we had going on would ever go to another level. None!” Julie said emphatically.

“Then, one day, he said he was leaving. I felt . . . sad. Not devastated, just sad. He said he was coming back and was going to semiretire or something like that. He was profuse in his thanks, I was just as profuse in mine. Then I told him I knew who he was. And then he kissed me. I . . . liked it. So I kissed him back. I . . . ah . . . I felt something. Not that bell-and-whistle stuff; something more gut-satisfying.
Contentment
would be my word of choice. Then he got in his car with Lola and left. I never saw him again.”

“Did he call you when he got back to New York?” Myra asked.

Julie drew a deep breath. “He did. He said he would be back soon. Mr. Goldfeld said Mace was going to return last weekend. I guess being who he was, his death made the national news, but I didn’t . . . I didn’t have my television on for days because of the nuclear power plant news and the hurricane hype. I didn’t know. My God! How could I not have known? I should have felt something, but I didn’t. Not a thing. Nothing. What does that say about me?”

Myra and Annie had Julie in their arms within seconds, murmuring words of comfort the way only women can.

“And now he’s gone. I’ll never see him again. Mr. Goldfeld said I could keep Lola if I wanted to. I want to keep her. It’s the rest of what he said that has my mind spinning. Mace left everything he owns to me—his controlling interest in his company, the pharmacy in Hoboken that he never sold, all his personal things, everything. Even Mace’s ashes in an urn. Do either of you have any idea of what that means? His company is a multibillion-dollar company. I told him I didn’t want it. I just want the dog. He said it doesn’t work that way. Mace, it seems, was ill, and no one knew. I certainly didn’t know. According to Mr. Goldfeld, he had a year, possibly a little more, possibly a little less time left. Why didn’t I see that, either? I must be incredibly stupid. Or I was so wrapped up in my own personal woes with Darlene and Ollie, my mind was closed off to anything else, which sure doesn’t say much about me.”

“On the contrary, Julie, it says everything there is to say. You said it yourself, he was a friend, a good friend. A friendship that might or might not have gone on to another level. Based on whatever it was Mr. Carlisle was feeling, he wanted you to have his estate because he cared about you, trusted you. And it was his way of saying thank you for the wonderful two months he had with you, and knowing the time he had left would be just as wonderful. If you think of it that way, it might be easier for you to accept,” Annie said softly.

“It’s the money. Just a few short months ago, I was worried about where I was going to get the money to have the air-conditioning fixed in my truck. Then, suddenly, I’m a multimillionaire with the Oprah food show. On top of that—can you believe this?—it’s like something out of a romance—I won the damned lottery, and that’s another hundred million. And now this. I’m a billionaire. That’s with a
B
, not an M.”

Myra handed Julie a wad of tissues while Annie poured more coffee. “Join the club,” Annie quipped.

“Money can be a curse, I suppose,” Myra said. “But you can also do worlds of good with it. Ask yourself what you think Mr. Carlisle would want you to do with it. Then you act on that. You have your own children to provide for. Trust accounts. Then there’s Olivia. Annie and I can help you with the best financial people out there. When you’re ready.”

“People are going to look at me differently now. There will be those who want something and those who won’t want to come near me. I’ve seen it happen. My life is going to be turned upside down again. I don’t know if I can handle that. I was just getting my life back, a little at a time, and now this. In case you haven’t figured it out, ladies, I am a pretty simple person with simple wants and needs. I won’t be allowed to be that person anymore. Mace’s will is going to probate. And then the financial world will find out that I own a controlling interest in Carlisle Pharmaceuticals. That alone will be a circus. Then, when I claim that damned lottery money, it will be even worse. My privacy will be gone. My kids’ privacy will be gone. The media will make us financial freaks.”

Annie leaned across the table to cup Julie’s face in her hands. “You, Julie Wyatt, are a very strong woman. You survived the worst possible event in any parent’s life. If you could do that, you can handle this. You set the rules. Nothing has to change unless you want it to change. The worst-case scenario is you hire someone in PR to be your spokesperson. The only thing you have to concern yourself with is saying, ‘No comment. ’ Eventually, the media and even the locals will get it and leave you alone.”

“Annie’s right, dear. The first few months will be stressful, but things will level off after that. The company will run itself with the capable people Mr. Carlisle has in place, and I’m sure Mr. Goldfeld will be overseeing that end of things,” Myra said. “Did I hear him correctly when he said he bought the house Mace was going to buy and that he plans to live here now?”

“That’s what he said. He’s a New York lawyer, and for some reason, I can’t see someone like him wanting to live in the sleepy little town of Rosemont. He said he was retiring. Even
I
know he was in shock about Mace. It sounds good at the time, when you think you can handle it. Then, as time goes on, you realize you made a mistake. I’m not saying that’s going to happen, but I just don’t . . . never mind, it’s not important,” Julie said.

“Yes, dear, it is important. I think the man is—as is to be expected, of course—in shock, and he’s trying to do what he thinks Mace would expect of him. He’s of an age when retirement should look good. I’m sure he’ll keep his hand in the pot, so to speak. No one actually walks away without leaving a few options open. Right now, he’s more or less in the same position you’re in. I’m thinking the two of you will need each other to get through Mr. Carlisle’s death and move on,” Myra said.

“I agree with Myra, Julie. Please be open to cooperating with Mr. Goldfeld, and things will fall into place just the way they should.”

Julie nodded as she swiped at her eyes. “I hope you’re right,” she mumbled.

Annie twinkled. “I’m never wrong, am I, Myra?”

“Hardly ever.” Myra laughed. “Now, I think it’s time to get back to work on Ms. Darlene and on getting Olivia back to Julie, where she belongs. I suggest we retire to the dining room, where all our maps and papers are. Oh, Julie, think of the wonderful life you can give that little girl. And a lot of other little boys and girls just like her in the same position. Think about what you can do for grandparents’ rights. The possibilities are absolutely endless. Endless, my dear!”

Julie smiled from ear to ear. “Okay, let’s do it!”

J
ulie Wyatt’s twins, Connie and Carrie, finished picking up the debris that littered the walkway leading to the door of their art school for aspiring young artists.

Connie leaned on the rake and looked at her sister. “I have an idea.”

“I hope it isn’t one that has me doing all the work while you supervise,” Carrie grumbled as she snapped a tie on the trash bag and carried it to the curb.

“Let’s call Darlene. School starts on Monday, and we both know she hasn’t taken Ollie for school clothes or her school supplies. Let’s volunteer to take her. All she can say is no.”

Hands on her hips, Carrie contemplated her sister. Connie was always considered the impetuous one of the twin sisters. Carrie was the more thoughtful, the planner, the one who saw a project through to the end. Unlike Connie, who, if things didn’t work out right first shot out of the cannon, went on to other things without looking back. “And she would let us do this . . . why?”

Connie grinned. “She’s destitute, if what Mom said is true. There’s no extra money, I’m thinking, for Ollie. She’s always come last with Darlene and her boyfriend. We make it a package deal, we take Ollie with us, or it’s no deal. If she says no, then it’s no. She’s not going to want to send Ollie to school looking like a homeless waif and without her school supplies. Darlene is all about image.”

“Oh, God, Connie, wouldn’t that be great if she agreed? It’s been so long since we’ve seen Ollie. She’ll remember us, won’t she?” Carrie asked, her eyes filling with tears.

“Of course she’ll remember us,” Connie said, but her voice carried no real conviction. “Let’s do it. A call from us is the last thing she’s expecting, and we’ll catch her flat-footed, so to speak.”

Carrie reached for the rake and leaned it up against the building while Connie tapped out Darlene’s number on her cell phone. The time was ten forty. Darlene picked up on the third ring. “Darlene, it’s Connie Wyatt. I’m calling to ask if Carrie and I can take Olivia school shopping. I think we could get everything done in a few hours and have her back to you by, say, five o’clock. We’ll take her to lunch, too. School starts on Monday, right?”

Both twins squeezed their eyes shut and crossed their fingers as they waited for Darlene’s response.

On the other end of the line, Darlene was staring at the calendar on the refrigerator. Connie was right, school started on Monday. How could she have forgotten that? Shit! Olivia needed new shoes, and she’d grown like a weed since school let out in May. School supplies would run her around forty bucks. Forty bucks she didn’t have to spare. Plus sixty bucks for shoes and a hundred or so for clothes. It was a no-brainer. Still, what gave those bitches the right to call her and . . . Olivia was the only control she had left. She could agree, but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for them. “Give me one good reason why I should let you see Olivia after the way your family has treated me?”

Connie sucked in her breath. “I’m not going down that road, Darlene. If you want Olivia to go to school looking like a raggedy homeless child, it’s fine with me. I’m offering, and that’s it. It’s what Larry would expect Carrie and me to do. This isn’t about you or me, my mother, or your boyfriend; this is about Olivia. So is it yes or no? Make up your mind right now while the offer is still on the table.”

Darlene’s mind whirled. Adam was practically crawling inside her ear as he tried to hear Connie’s voice. “Say no,” he hissed.

Darlene shrugged him off and lasered a look in his direction that could have fried a rock. “Okay,” she said. “Have her home by five, not one minute later.”

On the other end of the line, Connie almost fainted. “Okay! We’ll be there in ten minutes to pick her up. Meet us in the driveway!” She broke the connection and reached for her sister, who had tears streaming down her cheeks. They hugged one another until neither one of them could breathe. “Quick, get our purses, Carrie, and lock up while I put this stuff away.”

Carrie drove and burned rubber. They were parked at the edge of Darlene’s driveway in seven minutes. The twins leaped out of the car and ran to the little girl, who was so breathless she could hardly talk. They all cried, as Connie ushered Ollie into the backseat, where she hugged her so hard the little girl squealed. “Guess where we’re going,” Connie said.

“To see Grandma?” Ollie asked tearfully. “I didn’t forget you guys. Darlene took away all my pictures, and Adam wouldn’t give them back. I drew pictures of all of you. Daddy said they were good. He always tells me they’re good even when they aren’t.”

Neither twin knew how to respond to that statement, so they kept quiet.

“Can’t you go any faster, Carrie? Mom is going to go over the moon. Boy, did we miss you, Ollie. Grandma missed you even more.”

Ollie was still hanging on to Connie for dear life, crying and sobbing into her shoulder. The minute the car sailed through the gates, Ollie was perched on the edge of the seat. “Stop, Carrie! I want to run the rest of the way! I
have to
run the rest of the way! Please! Please, Carrie, stop!” Carrie slammed on the brakes, and Ollie hopped out. She ran, shrieking and hollering like a banshee. “Grandma! Grandma! I’m home! It’s me, Grandma! I’m here, Grandma! Carrie and Connie brought me here!” Ollie bellowed as she ran up the steps to the veranda. Inside, the dogs howled as Julie, Myra, and Annie ran to the door.

Breathless, Connie and Carrie reached the top of the steps just as Julie opened the door and held out her arms. Ollie literally flew into those waiting arms, her legs wrapped around Julie’s waist and her arms around her neck. She burrowed her head into her grandmother’s neck and cried, “You feel just like Daddy, Grandma! I dream about you all the time. I love you, Grandma! Do you still love me? Am I still your special little girl? Darlene said you don’t love me anymore, that you forgot about me. You didn’t forget about me, did you, Grandma? Am I still your little butter cookie?”

Myra, her eyes bigger than Frisbees, poked Annie. “That bitch is
mine.
I’m going to kill her and
him.
”

Annie reared back and hissed, “You’ll have to go through me for that honor, Myra. We don’t want to kill him. We just want him to wish he were dead.”

Both women focused on Julie. All they could hear was Julie saying over and over, “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! You finally answered my prayers. Thank You, thank you, thank you! Yes, yes, Ollie, you are still my special little girl, and I love you more than all the stars in the sky. I dream about you every night, little one.”

“Daddy said I had to be patient. Even when Darlene and Adam were mean to me, Daddy said you would make it right for me. Can I live with you, Grandma? Can you get me, Grandma? Please.”

All Julie could do was hug the little girl and make promises she hoped she could keep.

“We just called Darlene on the spur of the moment, Mom. School starts on Monday, and we offered to take Ollie school shopping. She said yes after she blustered a bit. We have to have her back by five.”

“Do you want to come with us?” Connie and Carrie said in unison.

“If I do that, I’ll be defying the court order,” Julie mumbled against Ollie’s blond curls.

“She’ll be happy to go with you,” Annie said. “And we will take care of that court order. In just about five minutes,” she said, looking at her watch. “So, ladies,
GO!
”

Ollie lifted her head and looked at Myra and Annie. “Are you grandmothers?”

Myra had great difficulty finding her voice, but she managed. “In a manner of speaking. We would be honored if you would allow us to be your honorary grandmothers. Like a—an extra one and a spare one. A little girl can never have too many grandmothers.”

“I like that. I don’t know anyone who has three grandmothers. Daddy said something good was going to happen today. Daddy’s never wrong, is he, Grandma?”

“Never!” Julie looked over at Annie and Myra.

“Go already! We’ll be fine here. Take your time, girls, and don’t hurry back.”

When the car was out of sight, Myra sat down on the steps next to Annie. “Now, that has to be a miracle of sorts. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt this bad and good at the same time. She’s a beautiful little girl, isn’t she, Annie?”

Annie’s voice was so choked up, she could barely speak. “All those golden curls, those big blue eyes. She looks like the pictures of Larry on the mantel. Myra, do you think Larry knows about this little miracle we helped bring about?”

“I certainly hope so. I know you didn’t miss those . . . those strange things that child said. The spirits come to the innocent, we both know that. I think it’s safe to say Larry comforts that child when she needs it most.”

“Come along, dear, let’s contact Abner and have him make that court order go away. Then we should put the finishing touches on whatever it is we’re going to do to make what just happened permanent.” Myra was up off the steps and heading straight for the dining room, where they would continue to plot and scheme to get Olivia back into Julie Wyatt’s household after they called Abner.

 

 

Back at Darlene’s house, Darlene started to bang pots and pans as she emptied out the dishwasher on Adam’s orders. “And you have the nerve to call me stupid! You played right into their hands. You just turned that kid over to them like nothing ever happened. You might just as well give her to them now and be done with it. You’re such a waste. I don’t know why I ever got mixed up with you to begin with. Now I have to worry about where my next meal is going to come from.” Adam’s arm shot out.

Darlene took the blow full on her cheek, splitting the skin. She howled her outrage as she reached for a knife in the butcher block. Adam’s foot shot out, and she crumpled to the floor, the knife sailing across the tiles.

“Damn you, Adam, get the hell out of my house! There’s the door. Leave. No one is forcing you to stay. Olivia has to go to school. She needs things. Things I don’t have the money to pay for right now. I had no other choice. Just because your kids are dropouts doesn’t mean Olivia is going that route. Hit me one more time, you bastard, and I’ll kill you! I mean it!”

Adam blustered, but they both knew he was in over his head. “Get your ass up and clean this kitchen. I’m going to make another run to the pawnshop. When you’re done cleaning up the kitchen, go outside and clean up the yard. It looks like a war zone.”

Darlene’s eyes spewed hatred as she inched her way to the stove, where she grabbed the oven door and pulled herself to her feet. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of Adam Fortune.

“Tell me you heard what I just said, Darlene.”

“I heard you, okay? The whole damned neighborhood heard you.”

“I don’t care about the whole damned neighborhood hearing me. You are the one with selective hearing. If you fuck with me one more time, Darlene, you will live to regret it.”

Not knowing when to leave well enough alone, Adam added, “You do know those bitches took that kid straight to your mother-in-law’s house, don’t you? Now there will be no living with the little snot. You know that, too, right?”

Adam balled his hand into a tight fist. Darlene ran to the bathroom and locked the door. She stayed inside until she heard the garage door going up, then down, then Adam’s motorcycle roaring out of the driveway. She’d lost whatever control over him she’d had, and she knew it. She opened the door and crept out.
One way or another, I’ll make that son of a bitch pay for the way he treats me. And I’ll make that snot-nosed kid pay, too,
she promised herself.

Darlene made short work out of tidying up the kitchen. She took a package of chopped meat out of the freezer and dropped it into the sink to thaw out. Adam hated meat loaf, but that’s what they were having for dinner. She looked around the kitchen to make sure Adam could find no fault with it, then ran upstairs to Olivia’s room. It always amazed her that a little girl could keep her room so neat and tidy. Adam’s kids were natural-born slobs.

She started to rummage through everything. She cursed as she pawed through Olivia’s meager belongings. Nothing. She looked in the closet and found Olivia’s “nest” way in the back. She dropped to her knees, knowing instantly that this spot was where the little girl went to hide. She ripped and gouged at the foam in the pillows, shredding the pillowcases. She tore and sliced the pictures Olivia had drawn of her
other family
and her
real mother
until they were nothing more than confetti. Satisfied, she backed out of the closet and headed back downstairs, where she gathered up trash bags from the garage. She reached for a rake that was minus a few prongs and proceeded to sweep up the driveway.

As she worked, Darlene cursed up a storm, wishing there was someone she could call to vent. A friend. But she didn’t have any friends. Adam didn’t really have any friends, either. There was no one. She couldn’t even call Adam’s kids—not that she would have—because Adam had smashed their cell phones. She wondered where they were, but then decided she didn’t really care. Adam was right about one thing, at least. They really were nothing but trouble.

She continued to sweep and rake as her mind tore loose. She thought about all the damned money she’d squandered on the breast implants, the dental veneers, the Botox, the cut-rate designer clothes. She wished she had the money in her hand. She’d split from the city of Rosemont so quick, Adam’s head would spin.

She started to cry then, because she realized the futility of her situation. Julie Wyatt was going to win. She’d be homeless, on the street, begging for food. And that little snot Olivia would be living in the lap of luxury just the way her dear old dad wanted her to live. “Well, screw you, Larry Wyatt. You’re fucking dead.
D-E-A-D!
And I’m alive! That makes me the winner.” Darlene nearly choked on her own laughter.