Greater Than Rubies, a Novella inspired by the Jewel Trilogy (18 page)

Barry kept his voice even and emotionless as he gripped the man’s hand. “As you know, I’ve already spoken with your editor and he assured me that he has already spoken with you as well.”

The color began to drain from Don Robert’s face when he suddenly realized that he had inserted his right hand into an inescapable vice. Barry didn’t even increase his grip because that would have likely broken bones, but his grasp left no doubt as to who was in charge of the conversation.

“Miss Bartlett is prepared to answer every civil question you have for her today … provided they are questions …” When Barry paused for effect, Don’s knuckles turned bright red, his fingertips turned a funny shade of purple, and his fingers themselves turned chalk white. “… and civil.”

Don Roberts nodded his head energetically, clearly wishing he had not taken the giant’s hand in the first place.

Barry cocked his head and asked, “Must I elaborate, Mr. Roberts, or have you a sufficient understanding of what will occur should this interview take an unexpected turn?”

Clearly trying not to let his discomfort seep into his voice, Don assured, “I’m good.”

Barry grinned and released the smaller man’s hand, admiring the newshound’s mettle despite himself. “Then we should probably get started.”

Linda walked around the desk and flanked Robin’s left. Standing to her right, Tony casually placed a hand on the back of her chair. Barry waited until Don had seated himself before likewise taking his seat.

As Don set his phone out, he said, “Miss Bartlett, we obviously got off on the wrong foot last time. I want to apologize for that. I also want to thank you for asking me back today. I want you to know that I really do have your best interest at heart. I am not an unethical man.”

After a few heartbeats, Robin licked her lips and said, “Okay.”

Don fiddled with his phone and set it down then consulted his legal pad. Robin assumed that he had once more set his phone to record the interview. “So do you go by Robin or does Tony have a nickname for you, Miss Bartlett?”

Robin said, “Tony calls me
cara
. But Robin is fine.”

Don jotted something then asked, “Robin, our readers will certainly want to know how the two of you met.”

Robin spent a minute processing the essay question. “The first time we were formally introduced I was waiting on his table at a Chamber of Commerce breakfast that he sponsored. We had actually met the night before when he came to Hank’s Place where I tended bar at the time.”

“And that was last fall?” Don prompted.

“Yes, last fall.”

“Then, he proposed on Christmas Eve while the two of you were vacationing in the Florida Keys?”

Robin said, “No.”

Don looked up from his legal pad, “No?”

“The two of us weren’t vacationing. Tony sponsors a trip to the Florida Keys for several foster children every year. This past Christmas season, he invited my sisters and me to join him on that trip. Since all of us came from a similar background as those kids, we took him up on his generous offer.”

Don scribbled out something and said, “Oh, I see. So it wasn’t just the two of you.”

Barry shifted in his chair, crossing one giant leg over the other. Tony’s face remained impassive. Robin didn’t say another word.

“That’s really nice,” Don smiled. “Could you tell me more about the foster children?”

Robin processed the question and realized that the Holy Spirit was guiding her answers, “One of the things I admire about Tony is his heart for children. He supports hundreds of homes like the one here at Boston Bible that give children like my sisters and I once were a clean, safe, loving environment. I can’t wait to support him in those ministries as his wife.”

“Do you think the fact that you and Tony share such similar childhood experiences helped draw the two of you together?”

Robin tilted her head slightly and considered the question, “Are you asking if the fact that Tony and I both came from poverty is part of the attraction we feel for each other?”

Don nodded, his pencil poised. Robin said, “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

Don asked, “So, if that’s part of it, what’s the rest? What do you think is his most attractive quality?” If he felt any discomfiture at posing the question with Tony Viscolli standing to her immediate right hand side, he showed none of it in his tone or expression.

Robin took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth. “Believe it or not, I didn’t think I really found him that attractive at first. In hindsight, I realize that what I found most attractive – and still do to this very day – is his faith.”

“His faith in you?”

Robin nearly laughed, “Certainly not, Mr. Roberts. His faith in God, specifically Yahweh, Jehovah, the creator of all things seen and unseen. His abiding and unshakable faith and his faithfulness to God is certainly the most attractive thing about my fiancée. Now that we share that faith, our lives can only get better.”

Don sat back and lifted his pencil. “Well, I can’t tell our readers that.”

Robin considered that reply, then said, “I see. Naturally, that is entirely up to you, Mr. Roberts. Of course, it is my answer – and it also happens to be entirely true.”

Don considered that and said, “So are you guys Catholic or Protestant or what?”

Robin smiled and said, “If forced to answer I would have to say we are ‘or what’ since those kind of labels largely mean divisions and divisions usually mean disunity in the body of Christ. We’re Christians.”

The reporter consulted his notes, clearly having gone into an area he didn’t want to explore further. “So you guys have set the date for April. Where are you registered?”

Robin smiled, “I can put you in touch with our wedding coordinator for all of your questions about those kinds of details. She’s the best and I really can’t imagine we’d be ready by April without all her hard work.”

Don didn’t even jot a note down. “Robin, our readers are going to want to know about your father. Anything you want to tell me about that?”

Robin pursed her lips. “Just that I’m proud of him.”

Don sat up a bit straighter, “You’re proud of him?”

Robin said, “Absolutely.”

“Robin, your father was in prison for most of your childhood and has since confessed to the slaying of your mother and another man when you were fifteen. Can you tell me what you’re proud of?”

Robin said, “Sure. The Craig Bartlett of my childhood was a thug. He was an addict and a very, very violent man. I never even really knew him as a child because when he wasn’t in jail he was never a part of our lives. If he were still a violent addict, there would be almost nothing about him I could find honorable. The Craig Bartlett of today, the man I know, is not the man in the tabloid stories. My father turned himself in and confessed to all of his crimes without even trying to strike a deal. He is doing what he can to make restitution for his past wrongs. The way he has turned his life around despite his past, I have to say I’m proud of him. And I pray for him every day.”

“Your parents were both addicts, Robin. Have you ever used drugs?”

Without hesitation, Robin answered, “Thankfully, I have not. I think the fact that most of the adults in my childhood succumbed addiction is one of the big reasons I never wanted to experiment.”

“But you were a bartender. Alcoholism is a much larger social problem than drug addiction in this country.”

“You know, after Tony bought Hank’s Place where I tended bar, one of the changes he made that really made me angry was he demolished the bar.” Robin admitted. “At the time I didn’t understand. All I saw was the loss of potential income from the higher tips a bartender can get. Now I understand, and I am so happy to have learned. I’m proud to manage Hank’s Place without the bar.”

“Have you decided who’s going to take over at Hank’s Place after the wedding?”

The question surprised Robin. “I’ll still run Hank’s. Why wouldn’t I?”

The journalist looked skeptical. “So, you’re like those lottery winners that swear up and down they won’t quit their jobs?”

Robin grinned, “I don’t play the lottery, Mr. Roberts. But I love Hank’s Place. I can’t imagine any good reason to ever quit.”

“Robin, what can you tell our readers about stabbing your foster father in the back?”

Barry sat forward, “Don’t answer that, Robin.”

Robin said, “It’s okay … “

Barry held up a massive hand, “No, it isn’t okay. Mr. Roberts, if you want to discuss this topic, you had better go off the record. Otherwise, you may have to explain to a Superior Court Judge how you apparently committed or were complicitous in felonious access to sealed juvenile records.”

Roberts glanced back at Robin and asked, “Off the record okay?”

Robin nodded, “It’s fine.”

Barry sat back but his eyes never left Roberts. Robin explained, “At the age of 15, there was a set of very specific circumstances that led to that act of self-defense. I really don’t care to elaborate on the details of those circumstances, but I can tell you that if I had it to do over again with the same outcome, I would do it again.”

“Why run from the law? If stabbing a person in the back could possibly be self defense, why not press charges?”

“Because I was a child, Mr. Roberts. A little girl. The only thing anyone had ever taught me about conflict by age 15 was to fight, hide, or run. And one thing I learned about fighting is never to get into a fight I might lose. So I ran and I hid.”

Don retrieved his legal pad and pencil. “Can we go on record about how your former employer pulled strings with city hall to get you custody of your sister Maxine?”

Barry kept his tone droll, “You mean about her then minor child sister Maxine? That one?”

Don looked at Barry, his eyes not giving anything away, “It isn’t like that.”

Robin interjected, “Off the record, Mr. Roberts. I wanted custody of Maxine to get her out of those circumstances.” Robin felt her eyes begin to tear up and she took a slow deep breath. “Off the record, Mr. Roberts. You wouldn’t want anyone to live in those circumstances. The thing is, the vast majority of foster parents and adoptive parents are loving, giving, and caring people. They are skilled and they are, well, parents for lack of a better word. My youngest sister, Sarah, was adopted by a wonderful, caring, loving couple who couldn’t have children of their own.

“But, Mr. Roberts, for all the good people in the system, there is a minority of foster parents who are not all of those things. Not at all. The fact is that my sister Maxine and I just happened to fall into one of those rare bad situations.”

Robin felt Tony’s hand on her shoulder, his fingers gently squeezing, reassuring. “Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the police recovered my sisters and me from a very bad neighborhood. We were in the back of a dark, moldy closet in a condemned shack strewn with cigarettes and drugs and booze – oh, and two dead bodies. Maybe that’s why. Maybe not. Who can say? The fact is, we ended up going from an unbelievably horrible situation to one that was merely intolerable. And Mr. Roberts, I don’t regret doing what I had to do to get myself and my sister out. And I owe Hank so much for his help. For the record, the greatest thing I’ve done in my life so far was getting custody of my sister, Maxine.”

The journalist took his pencil and very obviously lined out through three lines of his notes. He poised his finger above his phone and asked, “For the record, Robin, when did you know your life was going to change?”

Robin sat back and nodded. Don hit the button on his phone to start recording again. Tony subtly removed his hand and Robin somehow knew that he had rested it back atop the chair, just inches away, ready to intervene and reassure her once more if she needed his touch. “Well, Mr. Roberts, the first inkling I had that my life was about to change forever was on Tony’s birthday. My sister, Maxine, had invited him to stay and celebrate and she even baked him a cake.”

OBIN
drove to the church, but it was entirely under protest. Maxine and Sarah had shown up at Hank’s at five and insisted that she eat dinner with them. All she longed to do was go home and hide, to mull over that morning’s interview until she dissected all of the things she probably said the wrong way. But, she couldn’t go home, could she? She didn’t even have a home anymore. She had an air mattress in what would be Maxine’s art studio.