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“I think my mom wants me to. Is that crazy?”
He shook his head. “It makes perfect sense. Your mom was one of the kindest, most forgiving people I have ever met. She was a lot like her daughter.”
I could only hope to be half as wonderful as my mother. “Who says I’ve forgiven you?” I teased.
He tenderly ran a finger down my cheek. “You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”
That was true. “So, I guess that means you should go do your thing and I’ll do mine and then we should probably get together tonight.” I played coy.
“We should definitely get together tonight.” He nuzzled my neck, his stubble tickling me. “I promise to make this right.” He trailed kisses up my neck.
I threw my head back, enjoying the moment, knowing the unpleasant things I had to face. “Maybe there is a bright side to all of this. Neither of us will have to go to work for the next few days.”
“Whatever will we do?” he groaned against my skin.
Oh, I had some ideas.
I PULLED UP TO ARTHUR and Rosemary’s gated mansion in Tristan’s truck. I still hadn’t had time to buy a car, and Tristan wanted me to have something safe to drive in the interim. He’d offered me his Land Rover, but I had principles to uphold. Very few, mind you, but I had to hold on to some of them.
Jules had come in clutch again and found the Hardings’ address for me. If she wasn’t in the CIA, I had to wonder where she got all her info. Maybe someday she would tell me. Regardless, I really liked her. After telling her of yet another dilemma in my life, she’d offered to start an online petition on my behalf or stage a rally in front of the hospital. She was sure no one would come since she was invisible, but she was willing to try. And for that, we would always be friends. I only hoped one day she would be seen the way she desired and deserved.
I rolled down the truck window and stared at the ornate iron gate and the security intercom. It reminded me of Bruce Wayne’s manor in the Batman films. Flecks of snow landed on my cheek, where they fizzled and died in a lackluster fashion. All the while, I debated about whether to push the button and enter Arthur and Rosemary’s lair. If I had any chance of saving my job and Deidra’s, I knew I had to.
Take the first step. There is no weakness in that. Only strength of character, I could hear my mom say. I wasn’t sure I wanted to show moral character after all the Hardings had done to my parents. But then I would dishonor my mom and dad.
“Fine,” I said to no one but myself before I pushed the button.
“Who’s calling?” a voice I didn’t recognize asked.
“Um … uh … Calista Monroe,” I stuttered.
“Just one moment,” the cool, smooth voice responded.
It didn’t take long for the gate to open automatically and for the voice to say, “Please proceed to the front door entrance.”
I slowly inched the truck in, feeling like I was entering a trap. It was a fancy trap, based on the magnificent grounds and dignified house. Towering pine trees and manicured hedges, all enveloped in snow, covered the landscape. The house boasted ornate stonework and elegant columns. I felt a sense of awe and slight trepidation as I drove in. My mom grew up here. I could hardly imagine it, but it was true. She’d probably run through the trees and played hide-and-seek with her friends here. And daydreamed in the grand house. I wondered how much different her life had turned out than she thought it would. One thing I knew for sure: she never regretted it. She would always say Dad was worth the price she had to pay. He never took that for granted.
I parked the truck in the semicircle drive in front of the house and slowly got out.
The dark double doors opened before I took a step toward the entrance. Arthur and Rosemary stood, holding on to each other, staring at me, not sure what to make of the situation. Yet, their countenances said they were hopeful.
Since it was cold and snowing, I did the kind thing and hustled toward the door. No matter what they had done, it felt wrong to make the aging couple feel winter’s wrath.
They opened the door wider, and I slid in before I lost my nerve.
Once Arthur closed the door, we all stood gawking at each other, waiting for someone to say something.
Rosemary went first. “Welcome to our home. We’re so glad to see you.”
I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets, not sure how to respond. It then came to my attention that they had gone overboard decorating their enormous two-story marbled foyer for Christmas. I hadn’t pictured them as the type to celebrate the holidays. To me, they were the Marleys and Scrooges of the world. But maybe they loved Christmas as much as my mother. Perhaps it’s why she loved it so much. With that thought, I noticed on top of their twenty-foot tree, sparkling in gold and white, a large angel dressed in a delicate velvet dress. It was obvious my mom had patterned the papier-mâché one she’d made for my dad after it. Tears filled my eyes.
“Your mother loved that angel,” Rosemary choked out.
I wiped my eyes. I was certainly getting more than I bargained for here. “She made my father one for their first Christmas,” I said before I could stop myself. It was like my mother was opening my mouth. Darn her. I wished to remain aloof. All I needed was Arthur’s help to save Deidra’s and my jobs.
“I always wished I would have given her that angel,” Rosemary lamented.
Arthur wrapped an arm around her. His head wound had turned shades of purple and yellow, and the cut had scabbed over. “We were both headstrong and foolish,” he tried to comfort his wife. “Why don’t we take a seat in the parlor,” he invited me.
