“That’s a very generous offer,” Jess told him, looking at him curiously.
“One I hope you accept. Anything you need. Anything.”
“I’m afraid I’m at a loss here. Do I know you?” Perhaps he’d been at the funeral, and she just didn’t remember his face.
“No, we’ve never met.”
“Then might I ask who you are?”
“I hesitate to tell you my name,” he said with a sigh, running a well-manicured hand through his hair.
“Then maybe you should leave.” She felt a twinge of fear and closed the door a few more inches, holding her breath when he reached inside his overcoat. She let it out slowly when she saw he only took out a business card. Clearly, he didn’t want to let go of it when she reached out to take it. “Daniel....Mulholland?”
“Let me explain. Please,” he said quickly, seeing her distress.
“How dare you come here?” Jess asked, trying to slam the door. Anticipating the move, he stopped it with his foot. “Let it go.”
“Just give me a chance to explain,” he begged, his expression anguished.
“No. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t imagine why you thought I’d accept anything from you, so just go away and leave me alone.”
“I only want to help,” he insisted. “To try to undo some of the damage my brother has caused.”
“Damage? You call murdering my husband damage?” This came out in a shout.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to do something.”
“Since you can’t bring Frank back, there isn’t a blessed thing you can do except go away.”
“Mrs. Bentley, please, there must be something you need. Money is no object.” Jess nearly screamed when he said that. Did he think that all the money in the world would make up for losing Frank?
“What I need is my husband. What I need is to have him here to help me raise our baby. The only way you could have helped me was to have your filthy monster of a brother locked up before he had a chance to ruin our lives.”
“You have a baby?” he choked, all color leaving his face.
“Not yet. Not until spring. But your brother made sure I’ll go through this alone, too, didn’t he?”
“Oh God, I am so sorry...”
“Save it. Now leave before I call the police. We don’t need anything from you.”
“My offer still stands,” he murmured, moving his foot away from the door. Her only answer was the resounding slam of it in his ears.
CHAPTER 3
“Bruce, what have you done?” Dan muttered, climbing into his gray Park Avenue. He hit the steering wheel with his fist before wiping a hand across his eyes.
Oh man- This was worse than he’d first imagined. A baby? Wasn’t it bad enough that a woman had lost her husband? Now to find that an innocent child must suffer the consequences of a stupid, thoughtless act— It didn’t bear thinking about. Nothing would please him more than to beat his brother to within an inch of his life.
Instead, he started the car, flooring the gas pedal so the engine roared, before pulling out of the parking lot, tires squealing. He barely registered the startled glances from passersby as he sped away. And he ignored the small voice in his head warning him to slow down. What did it matter if he got a ticket?
If he got stopped, maybe the officer would arrest him and throw him in the jail cell with Bruce. That’s where he belonged, because he couldn’t have been guiltier if he’d pulled the trigger himself.
But common sense prevailed, and after a couple of blocks he slowed down. He wasn’t his brother, and he wouldn’t endanger the lives of innocent people just because he’d had a bad day – not even if it had been the most horrible day of his life.
“Figures,” he growled, when he caught the red light at the next intersection. This day was getting better and better.
Impatient, he drummed a finger against the dash. He’d tried. He’d made the effort to do what he could to right the situation, as much as anyone could under these circumstances. But she didn’t want his help. Didn’t want it? Yeah, right. She’d nearly knocked him over the railing when she slammed the door in his face. So he should just accept her decision and let well enough alone.
Except he couldn’t do that. Not now. Especially not now, knowing there would be a child. There had to be something she would accept.
Perhaps he could start a college fund for the baby. Maybe send her anonymous money orders. Buy her a house even. Something to make sure that she and the child didn’t suffer any more than necessary.
Frustrated, he pushed the gas pedal to the floor. His tires screeched again when the traffic signal changed, and he headed out of town and toward Charlotte. Soon the lights of Lansing were nothing but a glow in the rear view mirror.
The miles passed in a blur, as his thoughts raced from one idea to another. Deep down, he did understand that she might have trouble accepting anything from a Mulholland, but she would. In the end, he would have his way. Maybe he should push the baby angle. For the baby’s sake. That might work. Or he could find a way to invent some long lost, wealthy relative.
Yeah, right. One who conveniently died and left her his riches – hot on the heels of him showing up at her door. But it was another possibility, and he didn’t have a whole lot of options at this point.
Feeling somewhat better, he still couldn’t face going home to his big, empty, quiet house. He knew all he would do there was obsess over the situation, exactly what he was doing now.
And so he turned the radio on low and continued to drive, skirting town, and the distractions that came with it, gliding over miles of endless country roads. For whatever reason, solitary drives tended to calm him, giving him time to figure out solutions to almost every problem. Too bad it wasn’t helping much tonight.
Of course he’d never been involved in anything even close to this before either. Sure, he’d faced situations involving death in the past. It had just about broken his heart when his great-grandmother died three years ago. The difference between that and this, though, was that she had been old. Very old. Mrs. Bentley’s husband had been a young man, in the prime of his life, and it had been Dan’s own flesh and blood who ended it. His brother, the murderer.
He couldn’t think about that. The time would be better spent figuring out what to do. He had plenty of powerful friends. Maybe between them, they could come up with a rich great-uncle. Cal’s brother-in-law was an attorney. Perhaps he could be prevailed upon to come up with some bogus, legal looking documentation that Mrs. Bentley wouldn’t question. Mitch couldn’t be connected in any real way to the Mulholland’s. It just might work.
“Well, are you going to sit out here all night, or get out of the car and come inside? We’ve been waiting for you.”
It took a few seconds before Dan realized that Sam hadn’t materialized out of thin air. He didn’t recall turning onto Stine Road. Didn’t have a clue until this moment that he’d parked in his friend’s driveway. Shoot, he hadn’t even heard Sam open his door.
“Earth to Dan,” Sam said, but his tone was gentle. “Is anyone home in there?”
“Sam?”
“You really are out of it, aren’t you, buddy? Come inside where it’s warm.”
“You said ‘we’ve’ been waiting?”
“Yeah. The guys came out right after work. Even the coach is here. He’s pretty bummed, too, worried that you might hold it against him.”
“Hold what against him?” Dan asked.
“Well, when Bruce decided to turn himself in, he went to Ed, and I think he’d rather have cut his own throat than arrest your brother.”
“You tell him that the only person I blame is Bruce,” he said, his lips turning down in a scowl. “Ed wasn’t in that parking lot trying to rob someone, and he didn’t murder Frank Bentley. No. That was all my baby brother.”
“Settle down,” Sam soothed, reaching in and clasping his shoulder. “We know who did it. Let’s go in the house, and you can tell him you
rself.”
“She’s going to have a baby,” Dan told him, looking up into Sam’s eyes. “Did you know that?”
“Yeah. Ed called her a while ago and she told him. He said she sounded happy about it.”
“I guess that must have been before I showed up, huh?” He almost laughed at the startled expression on Sam’s face. Almost.
“What? You went to see her?”
“Sure did. I thought I could help her in some way.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. She wasn’t real open to that.” He knew Sam could see that her refusal upset him.
“I’ll bet. Come on. The guys are waiting. We’ll put our heads together and help you figure something out.”
Dan finally got out of the car. Sam leaned in to turn it off, tossing him the keys as they walked toward the sprawling ranch house. He could see the other three standing in the picture window. Thank God for good friends, because he really needed them now.
~~~~~
“What was I supposed to do, Em, welcome him with open arms?” Jess asked, sitting at the kitchen table. She’d been trying to eat some chocolate pudding, and come up with a list of the things she should get for the baby, all while trying to balance the phone between her shoulder and ear. She’d just given Emma a detailed account of the incident last night, and was surprised when she took his side.
“Maybe not welcomed him exactly, but he isn’t responsible for what his brother did.”
“I don’t really care.” What she did care about was finding someone who could tell her what to add to this list. Even she knew a crib, diapers, and bottles wouldn’t be enough to furnish a nursery.
“Think of the baby, Jess. Frank’s life insurance won’t last forever.”
“We had savings, too.” She tapped the pen down the page, only half listening to Emma. Did they sell books for ignorant mothers?
“Fine. So you’ll be all right for what? Five, six years? Then what? You know you can’t stay in a one-bedroom apartment forever.”
That did get Jess’s attention. A move was definitely in her future, she realized with a heavy heart. The adults-only clause in the lease didn’t leave her any choice.
“And what about later?” Emma continued. “School? Lord, it’s going to cost a fortune to clothe him. Not to mention things like medical care, toys and braces, college. For the love of heaven, don’t say no without giving this some thought.”
“I don’t need to think about it at all. What would Frank say if I started raising our child with money from the family of the man who killed him?”
“As long as it didn’t come from an illegal source, I doubt he’d care. I think he’d be more concerned about the welfare of his child than where the money came from.”
“Are you saying I’m not concerned about the baby?” Jess demanded, her voice rising in indignation.
“No, I’m not. I’m saying as long as the money comes from a legal source, you should take it.”
“What about a moral source? Doesn’t that matter?”
“Are we talking about morality or pride?” Emma asked quietly. “How long will pride let you stay home and raise your baby? You always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, right? Well, you’re going to have to go back to work about the time he or she starts school. That means daycare, Jess. What good is your pride going to be then?”
Daycare. Jess wrinkled her nose in disgust. In her opinion, daycare was no better than many of the foster homes she’d grown up in. No matter what, she was never, ever going to put the welfare of her child in the hands of anyone else.
“I’ll think of something by then,” she said, her stubbornness kicking into high gear. “Now if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” The subject was officially closed.
“Fine, then let’s talk about the way you treated your visitor last night.”
“Let’s not.” Jess tried to concentrate on the list again, failing as Emma plunged in anyway. She threw the pen against the table with more force than she’d intended. It slid across the length of it, falling off the edge, and hitting the floor with a clatter.
“You know you weren’t fair to him.”
“Gee, isn’t that too bad?” she asked sarcastically. “Life isn’t always fair, is it? And I guess I know a little something about that, don’t I? In fact, I think I’m pretty much an expert on that subject, aren’t I?”
“Jess-”
“I’m the one whose husband was murdered, Emma. I’m the one who has to tell our child why he doesn’t have a father. Do you think I care whether I’m being fair or not?”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Emma sighed, sounding frustrated. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, but I have to say this. If you’d stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to look at someone else, you might see that other people in the world hurt, too. Even Daniel Mul...”
Jess had never hung up on her friend before, but she did now, slamming the receiver down with such force Emma wouldn’t have to wonder how offended she was.
How dare she take Mulholland’s side in this? She should have stood by her side like the friend she claimed to be. She should have been as appalled by his appearance as Jess had been, but Emma, Emma, had turned on her like a snake.
Angrily, restlessly, she began pacing through the apartment.
The walls felt like they were closing in on her. For months they had sheltered her from the world outside. Her refuge. A place to hide while she tried to come to grips with all that had happened. Now she felt suffocated. She needed to get out. To breathe some fresh air, to clear her head.
Dressing warmly in a red parka, and a white hat and mittens, she set off for a walk in the frigid, mid-November air. A brisk wind was blowing, stinging the exposed skin on her face, and she knew she wouldn’t stay out long. Just a few blocks, then straight back home. No sense in putting the baby at risk by her catching a cold. She laid one hand over her abdomen as she strolled.
Much as she’d hoped the walk would help, it didn’t. Instead, Jess found herself dwelling on the things Emma had said. Talk about a lack of loyalty from the person who, only the day before, claimed her for a sister. Her sympathies should be for the mother of the niece or nephew she was so excited about. And on Frank, whose life was cut short by the brother of the man she now chose to defend.
Frank deserved it all. Only him. The man who made Jess laugh. The man who rubbed her shoulders after a rough day at work. The man who loved her so much he married her, despite his father’s fury.
A bitter old man, Phillip Bentley hated Jess passionately. She’d been forced to endure countless phone calls since the funeral, just so he could take his anger out on her. So he could blame her because his son was dead.
Jess kicked at a small mound of snow. Bad enough to be angry with Emma and Daniel Mulholland, now she was thinking about that creep again.
The man had done everything in his power to dissuade Frank from dating her, and his rage had known no bounds when Frank announced his intention to marry her. Phillip was convinced that Jess was a gold digger, only interested in his son because of his huge bank account. If Frank went through with it, he would be out of the will before the ink could dry on their marriage license.
And he’d done it, too.
Not that it had mattered to either Frank or Jess. While he might have had a wealthy father, and lived in an ostentatious mansion, Frank’s childhood had been miserable and lonely. No, money hadn’t mattered to him at all. The only thing he’d ever wanted in his too brief life was to be happy. Phillip hadn’t understood that though, refusing to even speak to his son in the month before he’d been killed.
Then he’d shown up at the funeral, reveling in the role of grief-stricken father, holding Jess responsible for Frank’s death, and letting everyone within earshot know it. But for her, his son wouldn’t have been in a dark parking lot defending a worthless piece of trash.
He’d even promised that someday Jess would pay for what she’d stolen from
him. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know when, but one day she would rue the day she’d taken his son from him.
The threat had frightened Emma, who knew Philip had a reputation for being ruthless. That people who crossed him often wound up having accidents. Usually falls down long flights of stairs, or being brutally mugged. But no one had ever been able to pin anything on him.
Jess hadn’t been able to work up any fear though, or even a modicum of compassion for the man. He didn’t deserve it. What Frank needed had never been important. Only appearances mattered, and Bentley’s didn’t marry beneath themselves. A daughter-in-law who had been raised a ward of the state was simply not acceptable. In fact, as far as Phillip was concerned, until Frank came to his senses, he was dead to him.
“I guess the joke was on you, Phil,” Jess whispered. Frank truly was dead to him now.
It was sad that he’d never known what a wonderful man Frank turned out to be. So different than his father. Gentle, tender, considerate, sweet... Impressing people never mattered to him. He hadn’t cared a whit that Jess was an orphan, a nobody. Phillip cared though, very much. With a sorry excuse for a father, it was a miracle Frank turned out to be such a wonderful man.
“Stop it,” she chided herself. This wasn’t doing any good. She was supposed to be thinking of positive things, not concentrating on people who angered her.
She forced herself to pay attention to the beauty all around her. Didn’t the snow, shimmering in the sunlight, make the trees and bushes look like someone poured glittering, pure white frosting over them? And the kids across the street, laughing joyously as they built a snow fort, occasionally pelting one another with snowballs. Weren’t they carefree?
So many things that should be helping to lift her spirits, if she’d only let them. The Santa and sleigh in the yard she was approaching. The lovely wreath with the red bow adorning it, hanging on a front door. One family getting ready to celebrate Christmas. A little too soon but still…
Whoa. This wasn’t helping either. Early decorating should be outlawed out of respect for people like her, people who would be spending the holidays alone because some animal had to kill her husband.