Gone With the Woof (24 page)

“Maribeth was very careful to adhere to Edward's dictates. You and I might have made different choices, but she was a single mother who was struggling to make ends meet. After Charlotte was born, she and Edward reached an agreement. He would contribute to the baby's upbringing in return for Maribeth's silence. He kept his word, and she kept hers.”

“How much of that does Charlotte know?” I asked.

“Almost none,” India replied. “Maribeth concocted some story about a sailor or a traveling salesman. She said things were simpler that way.”

I shook my head. “Simpler for Maribeth maybe, but not necessarily for Charlotte. I can't believe she's been working for her father for two years and doesn't even know it.”

“That was why Maribeth convinced Charlotte to take the job. She wanted father and daughter to get to know one another. I think she harbored a secret hope that once Edward realized how wonderful Charlotte was, he would finally acknowledge her as his own.”

“I'm afraid I don't see that happening,” said Aunt Peg. “Edward doesn't have that kind of sentiment in him.”

“But now Charlotte is March's only remaining child,” I pointed out. “That has to make a difference.”

“It would to me,” India agreed. “But with a man like Edward, who knows?”

“Charlotte had a half brother,” I realized suddenly. “And she never even knew it. What a shame.”

“That whole story is shameful,” Aunt Peg said sharply. “Edward's behavior was reprehensible. I'm beginning to regret ever recommending you to him in the first place.”

India sputtered a laugh. “That was
your
doing, Peg? You encouraged your niece to get tangled up with Edward March? That's like sending a lamb into the lion's den.”

“I didn't know that at the time. Now it's beginning to look as though I may have made a small error in judgment.”

It was as close to an apology as Aunt Peg had ever come. I reached over and squeezed her hand.

“You meant well,” I told her.

“I always do,” she replied.

“N
ow where are we going?” asked Aunt Peg. We were back in her minivan, careening southward toward Connecticut.

“Now you take me home and drop me off.”

“That doesn't sound very exciting.”

“I should hope not,” I said. “After two trips in your passenger seat, I'm not sure how much more excitement I can stand.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Speed limits are just guidelines, not hard and fast rules. Nobody obeys them but you.”

A deer grazing by the side of the road lifted its head and gazed thoughtfully in our direction. Aunt Peg never even lifted her foot off the gas pedal. Instead, she leaned on the horn and went hurtling past.

I waited until my heart had dropped down out of my throat, then said, “There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don't even know where to begin. You drive like a maniac. What if that doe had decided to leap into the road in front of us?”

“Then I should think she would have been very sorry.”

“She's not the only one,” I muttered.

Aunt Peg's eyes left the road as she turned to look at me. “Were you talking to me?”

It was no use. Attempting to modify Aunt Peg's behavior was like trying to reason with an Afghan Hound. Nothing changed, and everyone just ended up frustrated.

“Let's talk about something else,” I said. I definitely needed a distraction.

“Edward March,” Aunt Peg said immediately. I got the impression that she'd only been waiting for me to give her an opening. “The more I find out about that man, the less I like him. Maybe the two of us should go pay him a visit.”

“You make it sound so civilized.” I leveled her a look. “I know you better than that. What you really want to do is read him the riot act.”

“What's wrong with that? It certainly sounds as though somebody ought to.”

Leave it to Aunt Peg to volunteer.

“Somebody,” I agreed. “But not you. Don't forget, you just told India that you would keep her confidence. So you can hardly go running to Edward and yell at him about a story that you're not supposed to know.”

“If we hadn't consented, India wouldn't have told us. So there you are. I'm quite certain that oaths given under duress don't count.”

“Kind of like speed limits?”

“When you get a notion, you are as tenacious as a dog with a marrowbone.” Aunt Peg frowned in annoyance. I was glad to see, however, that her foot had eased up slightly on the gas pedal.

Half an hour later, we both arrived home in one piece. Aunt Peg and Sam decided to sit down over lunch and plot Augie's future show career. I reminded them that they needed to consider Davey's input. Both of them agreed with me, but that didn't slow them down for a minute.

Two devoted breeders dazzled by the potential of a pretty new puppy? Augie was simply too much temptation to ignore. He was like a shiny new toy they couldn't resist taking out of the box and playing with, even though it didn't belong to them. I grumbled under my breath and left them to it.

While they sat down and went to work, I gave Julia Davis a call. She'd been in my thoughts since we'd met, and I hoped she was doing well. But beyond that, I also wanted to hear what she had to say about the things that Sherm and I had discussed. I wondered whether filing a claim against Andrew's estate had been her idea or that of her crusading lawyer, and whether or not she'd thought through the ramifications of taking such an action.

As I'd hoped, Julia was home and agreed to see me.

I stuck my head in the kitchen and waved good-bye. Sam and Peg were hunched together over a dog show calendar, penciling in notations under various dates. Kevin was munching happily on a carrot. At some point it would probably occur to the three of them that they were hungry, and Sam would fix a proper meal. Or not.

He looked up when I said good-bye. “Where are you going?”

“Norwalk. I won't be gone long.”

It did not escape my notice—or Sam's—that Aunt Peg used that moment of inattention to stealthily erase a note he had just made.

“Sounds good.” He got up, walked over to the desk, and replaced his pencil with an indelible pen.

“You've got Kevin,” I pointed out.

“I know.” Still distracted, Sam looked around, saw his son pushing a Matchbox car across the floor, and pointed. “Right there. We're good.”

I could only hope. Since the adults in the room outnumbered the child two to one—make that seven to two if you counted on the Poodles' help—presumably the level of supervision would prove adequate.

In the week since I'd last seen Julia's apartment, not much had changed. With its unpacked boxes, bare walls, and meager assortment of mismatched furniture, the living situation still had the look of a temporary arrangement. The only new addition was a spindle-back rocking chair painted a deep shade of blue. It sat in a shaft of sunlight beside the small living-room window.

Julia had been slender before; now she looked positively skinny. Her pale skin was drawn tight across her features, and there were new hollows beneath her cheeks. Her wrists, extending out from the sleeves of her chunky sweater, appeared frail and bony.

“Are you all right?” I asked. I took off my coat and tossed it on top of a box.

“Well enough, I guess. Pregnancy is kicking my butt. I thought I was supposed to be glowing. When does that part start?”

“Don't ask me,” I said. “I never got there. I feel like I ought to make you a sandwich or something.”

“Not much point. I wouldn't be able to keep it down.”

“Crackers?”

“Had those for breakfast.”

Been there,
I thought.

I crossed the room and had a look at the rocker. “This is nice.”

“Thank you. It was a gift from a friend.”

“Sherm Yablonsky?”

“Yes.” Julia sounded surprised. “How did you know that?”

“I saw him arriving when I was on my way out last time I was here. And then a couple of days ago I went to talk to him about Andrew, and he mentioned that the two of you had been in touch.”

Julia took a seat on the couch. I walked over and joined her.

“Sherm's a great guy,” she said. “He's been a big help to me.”

“I'm glad you have someone on your side,” I told her honestly.

She studied my expression. “That sentence sounds like it should end with the word
but.
”

“I just think that you ought to make your own decisions about what you want to do next. I hope you won't let yourself be talked into anything that doesn't seem right to you.”

“Sherm told you about the lawsuit,” Julia said flatly.

“And the claim against Andrew's estate. He seemed very pleased with himself. He said it was all his idea.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except that Sherm is a lawyer. And from the looks of his office, he's one who's in need of business. It's probably debatable whether or not he has your best interests at heart.”

Julia laughed softly. “My business isn't the kind that Sherm needs. I'm not even paying him.”

“Not yet,” I allowed. “But if you win, I'm sure he'll be entitled to a portion of the proceeds.”

“Well . . . yes. That's the way it will work.”

“Edward March will be a formidable legal adversary. Sherm may well find that he's in over his head, and by the time that happens, you'll have lost your chance to settle things amicably. Why make an enemy of March if you don't have to? Once your baby is born, maybe this can all be resolved in a less confrontational way.”

I'd learned only that morning that March had contributed to the care and upbringing of Maribeth's child. Even though there'd been extenuating circumstances in that case, it still gave me hope that he could be convinced to do the same for Julia's baby.

“Edward and I are already on opposing sides,” Julia said, her expression hardening. “And none of that was my doing. Don't make me out to be the bad guy here, because I'm not.”

“I know that,” I said. “I just thought maybe if you tried talking to Edward one more time, before Sherm has a chance to build a wall between the two of you—”

“He won't see me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I did try. I called. I even asked Charlotte to put in a good word for me. None of it helped. Edward said that Andrew had made his feelings clear when he broke up with me, and that he intended to respect his son's wishes.”

So much for wanting to play the mediator. Now I was angry on Julia's behalf, too. “That's bullshit!”

“Of course it is. But there's the truth, and then there's Edward's truth. The only thing that matters to Edward is what he wants to believe.”

Julia picked at a loose thread in the hem of her sweater. Her nails were unpolished and bitten short; her cuticles were ragged. “I was talking to an old friend of his a couple weeks ago, and she said the same thing. Edward doesn't even care whether or not he's right. He just wants to get his own way.”

Unfortunately, that sounded about right.

“Who told you that?” I asked.

“Charlotte's mother. Do you know her?”

I nodded.

“I stayed with Charlotte for a few days before I got this place. One night her mom dropped by.”

“Did you tell her you were pregnant?”

“Not on purpose.” Julia grimaced at the memory. “I was in the bathroom, puking my guts out, when Maribeth arrived. Right away she went all maternal on me. She wanted to know if I was sick and what my symptoms were. Believe me, it was easier just to confess the real reason.”

Looking for a sympathetic reception, Julia had certainly landed in the right place, I mused. Her next words confirmed that thought.

“Maribeth was wonderful to me,” she said. “Especially when Charlotte told her why I was there. She was furious on my behalf. I appreciated the support, even though I didn't think I needed it. At the time I just figured that everything would be back to normal in a day or two, and Andrew and I would be back together.”

Worried by her fingers, the thread abruptly pulled loose. Julia continued to tug, and several stitches unraveled. A small hole appeared, and Julia stared at it intently. She looked uncertain what to do next.

“You were that sure that you'd be going back to Andrew,” I said, “even though you knew by then that your relationship wasn't as solid as you had previously thought?”

“What are you talking about?” Julia's gaze lifted.

“Sherm mentioned a woman named Miranda.”

“Miranda was nobody.”

“That's not what he thought.”

“Sherm's always been a sucker for a pretty face.” Julia's tone was dismissive. “It's not surprising that he was impressed.”

“And yet he wasn't the one involved with her. Andrew was.”

“
Involved?
No way. Maybe he was briefly infatuated, but that's all it was. The only commitment Andrew made was to me.”

“So Miranda was just a fling. Even so, you must have been pretty upset. Especially since you were pregnant with Andrew's child.”

“Sure I was upset,” Julia said. “But I understood, too.”

I stared incredulously. “That's big of you. In your shoes I don't think I'd have been nearly as complacent.”

“You didn't know Andrew, did you?”

“We met briefly,” I said. “But no, I didn't really know him.”

“He was just like his father in a lot of ways. Andrew always had to be the one in charge. He had to make the decisions. I like a forceful guy, but marriage is a partnership, you know?”

I nodded.

“Andrew was taking his time getting used to that idea. I think he was afraid that when we got married, he'd be giving up some of his control. And that made him uncomfortable. So maybe he needed to rebel a little just to prove to himself that he was still his own man.”

Or maybe having girlfriends on the side and tossing Julia out of his house was Andrew's way of telling her that he was planning to rebel
a lot,
I thought. Julia saw herself as tolerant and understanding. To me, it was beginning to look more like she'd been missing the Big Picture.

“From the way you describe him, Andrew doesn't sound like someone who could be coerced into doing something he didn't want to do,” I said.

Julia's hand went to her stomach. “You don't get it. I wasn't trying to coerce Andrew. Having a child together was something we'd both dreamed of. Maybe the timing was a little unexpected, but Andrew would have come around. I'm sure of it.”

“According to Sherm, Andrew wasn't ready to settle down. Even though he was living with you, he was still seeing other women.”

“Sherm doesn't know what he's talking about.”

“He was Andrew's best friend.”

“So he says.” Julia's tone was sharp. “The only thing still holding those two together was nostalgia for their shared past. He and Andrew had almost nothing in common anymore. Sherm knew that, and he resented everything about Andrew. He envied Andrew his successful career, his position in his father's company, even his cars.”

“What Sherm resented was the fact that Andrew had you,” I said quietly.

“That's not true.” The denial was swift. Julia didn't even stop to think before blurting it out.

“You know it is.”

“No, I don't.”

“Sherm is in love with you.”