Grace Cries Uncle (18 page)

Once home, I texted Tooney to let him know I'd be visiting via the underground passage. He and Liza met me in his basement. When I'd first come down here, while Todd Pedota still owned the house, there had been stale water puddles on the concrete floor and an overwhelming aroma of mildew. The first thing Hillary had done when she began her remodeling was clean the house from top to bottom, starting with this basement. Today, with updated light fixtures, scrubbed clean floors, and a fresh coat of white paint on the walls, the place smelled brand-new.

Tooney's relief was impossible to miss. “You're home early.”

“Couple of glitches at work today,” I said.

Liza's eyes sparked with mischief. “Do I have to go home already, Mommy? But I'm having so much fun here playing with Ronny.” She tilted her head, resting it against Tooney's arm. He stepped away.

“Bronson,” I corrected her. “Remember?”

“Oh, I like calling him Ronny. It's such a cute name for
such a cute playmate.” She wiggled her nose at Tooney, the gleam in her eyes turning hard when she faced me. “I can't think of anything I'd rather do all day than sit in this dump and wait for you to come home.”

“Poor baby,” I said. “Listen, Tooney—er—Bronson . . .”

“Grace, please.” A corner of his mouth curled up, but I could tell he was weary and the effort taxed him. “Call me Tooney. You always have and I've kinda gotten used to it.”

I smiled. “Thanks. What I was about to ask is if you have a couple of minutes to talk?”

With an uneasy glance at Liza, he pointed a thick finger into his chest. “Me? By myself?”

Answering his unasked question about how to conduct a private conversation while maintaining watch over my sister, I said, “Let's go back to my house. Liza, you can find something to do upstairs for a few minutes, can't you?”

“Another meeting I'm not privy to?” She worked her jaw from side to side. “A girl could develop a persecution complex around here.”

“Grace, is that you?”

The pointy heels of Hillary's boots clunked the bare wood as she made her way down the steps. Frederick, a smiling, spectacled lump of a man, followed her, raising his hand in greeting.

“Hillary,” I said. “I'm glad you're here. Do you have a few minutes?” I gestured vaguely in the direction of my house.

Liza perched a hand on her hip. “Are you inviting them to your secret meeting, too?”

Bennett's stepdaughter either wasn't paying attention to Liza's complaints or had another matter on her mind. “Yes, I do have a few minutes,” she said with emphasis. “You and I need to talk.”

It suddenly seemed foolish to have five people traipse through the passageway only to ensure Liza's seclusion, but I couldn't trust her upstairs in Tooney's house alone. Who knew what sort of mischief my sister might get herself into?

“Hey.” I remembered that I'd reset my burglar alarm when I'd first gotten home. Liza didn't know about the secondary alarm—the one that sounded here at Tooney's if anyone entered or left my house without disarming the system. “I have an idea, Liza. You keep complaining that I don't trust you. Here's your chance to prove yourself. Go on back to my house. When I'm finished here, I'll join you.”

“What's the catch?”

“No catch,” I lied, counting on the fact that my sister wouldn't think to check the burglar alarm's status. “In fact, we'll go upstairs now to talk. If you'd prefer to wait down here for me, that's fine, too.”

Liza studied me for a moment. “Fine. I could use a shower,” she said. A moment later, she'd ducked into the passageway and was gone.

“Let's go upstairs,” I said.

Tooney frowned at the iron door. “You sure this is a wise move?”

Hillary's cheeks were bright pink. She looked ready to explode before we made it up the stairs.

“I set the alarm,” I told Tooney.

“Ah,” he said. “Then yes, let's go up in case we need to chase after her.”

Clearly fuming, Hillary managed to hold her tongue until we were gathered in the kitchen. “That sister of yours.” Spittle formed at the corners of her mouth. She wiped it away. “How dare she? How dare she?”

“What happened?” I asked, taken aback by her sudden vehemence.

“Who does that girl think she is?”

Frederick, standing close to Hillary, tucked her hand into his arm and patted it while whispering words only she could hear. Hillary's sputtering diminished but her eyes continued to blaze.

“Uh . . .” Tooney stretched his chin. “Your, uh, sister . . .”

Frederick shot me an apologetic look. “She doesn't mean any harm. Not really.”

I wasn't sure if he referred to Liza or Hillary. “Who are you talking about?”

Hillary stifled an exasperated scream, but only barely. “He means your sister, but he's wrong.” Turning to Frederick, she said, “I'm sorry but this time I know I'm right. I've been that girl—and let me assure you she knows precisely what she's doing.”

“It doesn't matter though, does it?” Frederick asked Hillary, very quietly.

“What doesn't matter?” I was beginning to guess.

Tooney tried again. “Your sister seems to . . . uh . . . be, um . . . attracted to . . .”

Hillary faced Frederick. “Are you certain you aren't tempted? Are you sure? She's so young. With a killer bod. She's at least ten years younger than I am.”

Closer to fifteen, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.

Frederick took both of Hillary's hands in his. I watched the woman's stricken, anguished face soften as her eyes searched his. “I'm not tempted,” he said softly. He stared up at Hillary with sweet adoration. “How could I be when I have you?”

Clearing my throat, I took a quick look around. Again, a mirror image of mine, the kitchen's walls had been restored with vintage tiles. Mine were pink, these were white with blue accents throughout. With shiny new appliances and floral décor, it didn't scream bachelor, but was a warm and welcoming room. “This kitchen looks fabulous, Hillary. You've done a marvelous job.”

Her body had returned to a more restful pose. “Thank you.”

Tooney walked over to the wall where his end of the burglar alarm had been installed. “Your house is still hot,” he said. “So far she hasn't disarmed the system.”

“Good. I don't want to tempt fate by taking too long here, but I wanted to share some news with all of you.”

I opened the basement door to assure myself that Liza hadn't returned to listen in from the stairway before continuing. “Frederick, I know you're aware that Bennett and I submitted DNA for tests to determine kinship.”

He nodded. Hillary said, “Papa Bennett called me earlier to tell me that the results are in. He wants us all to gather tomorrow to hear the news together.”

“That's right,” I said. “Bennett wants us there early, before Marshfield opens for the day.” I provided necessary details. “But until we know for sure, one way or another, and until I can sort things out with my sister, I'd prefer it if we still kept this from Liza.”

“I expect you'll want to bring her over here extra early tomorrow morning,” Tooney said.

Much like Frederick had done with Hillary, I turned to Tooney. Instead of taking his hands, however, I held both his solid forearms. “I made other arrangements for Liza tomorrow because I want you to be there for the results, too,” I said.

“You want me there? For the big announcement? Why would you want me?”

“How can you ask that, Tooney? You've been here from the very beginning. You're one of my best friends.”

He swallowed and looked away, his eyes reddening. I let my hands drop as he stepped back to tug a wrinkled white handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his eyes and face and mumbled about there being too much dust.

“You'll be there, won't you?” I asked. “Whether it's good news or a big disappointment, I want all my favorite people around me when we hear it.”

At that Tooney lost it. He hiccupped, excused himself, and bounded out of the room.

“Somebody's in love,” Hillary said with a sly smile.

“Nothing like that,” I said, touched by Tooney's reaction and more than a little weak in the throat myself.

“I know it isn't,” Hillary said. “I know you feel for him
the same way you do for my stepfather. But the man clearly adores you.” She twisted her mouth sideways. “They both do. I'm starting to worry that you've won over that nasty Frances, too. You have a bewitching way about you, kid.”

That was one of the nicest things Hillary had ever said to me. “Thank you.”

“The jury is still out with the two of us,” she said, nudging Frederick.

He winked at me. “Very true.”

*   *   *

I found Liza at the kitchen table, cell phone in hand. “Texting?” I asked.

“Who would I text?”

“Eric?”

“I couldn't if I wanted to.” She put the phone down. “I had his number stored in the one I left behind. Never bothered to memorize it.”

I picked it up. “Mind if I have a look?”

She started to complain about privacy when I noticed the last number she'd dialed. “You called Bennett?” I asked.

“How did you know?”

“I recognize the number.”

“Nerd,” she said.

“Why did you call Bennett?” I asked, pulling my own phone up and preparing to dial him myself.

“You can stop freaking out. I didn't get through. A guy answered the phone. He sounded old. Told me that he was in a meeting. Asked if I wanted to leave a message. I told him it was personal and I'd try back another time.”

It must have been Theo who'd intercepted Liza's call. “Why did you want to talk with Bennett?”

“I need a job.” She lifted one shoulder. “Duh.”

I went momentarily speechless. “You're joking.”

“You think I like living here with all your rules? I need
income so I can find a place of my own.” She gave the back window a furtive glance. “That is, once it's safe for me to walk around like a normal person again.”

“Don't ever call Bennett.” I didn't believe her excuse but wasn't in the mood right now to challenge her. “If you want to work at Marshfield you'll have to apply like anyone else would.” The idea of Liza working at Marshfield sent zinging aggravation up my spine. No, no, no. “Exactly what are you qualified to do?”

Another half-shrug. “I figured being your sister, I have an in. There's got to be some easy and fun job to do there.”

I bit back a snippy retort. “Don't call Bennett again,” I said for the second time in thirty seconds. “Are we clear on that?”

She stood, slamming her hands on the tabletop. “Yes, ma'am.”

I stopped her before she stormed out of the room. “One more thing.”

She pivoted. “Now what?”

“We—you and I—are going to Marshfield tomorrow morning.”

Her mouth dropped open, but only for a moment. Her eyes narrowed. “If it's about me trying to get a job there, I don't really think you should—”

“It's not that.”

She tossed her head toward Tooney's house. “How come your knight in shining armor gets a day off?”

“He needs to be there, as well.”

“What, you don't trust me with those other two?” she asked. “I'm sure Frederick wouldn't mind keeping an eye on me while you're gone.”

“Be ready tomorrow. Early. We leave by six thirty.”

I drove to Marshfield the next morning, aware of Liza's intense scrutiny. “What is with you today?” she asked.

I couldn't put it into words, nor would I attempt to. Despite the fact that I made the trek to Marshfield every weekday following this same route, I couldn't shake off the weirdness I felt. Though the weather, the hour, and the purpose were different, today reminded me very much of my first visit to Marshfield Manor when I applied for a job. Back then I didn't know what lay ahead of me. I'd been anxious, hopeful, and jittery.

Yep, that's exactly how I was feeling today.

My fingers trembled—this despite my rigid grip on the steering wheel.

When I didn't answer, Liza tried again. “The guys were up and out extra early today, too. What aren't you telling me?”

I mumbled about how I wasn't answerable for Bruce's and Scott's schedules.

She continued to study me, clearly unconvinced. “Are you nervous about something? You don't look right.”

“I don't look right? What a nice thing to say,” I said with exaggerated resentment.

“You know what I mean. You're jumpy and weird this morning.”

I feigned nonchalance. “Bringing you to Marshfield has that effect on me.”

“And what's the deal with making me leave the new cell phone at home? Who are you afraid I'll call?”

I didn't answer.

She faced forward. “Fine. Don't tell me.”

I swung into Marshfield's underground employee parking lot and said hello to the guard at the gate before signing Liza in as my guest.

“It's like the Bat Cave,” she said as I navigated to my parking spot. “Nobody would ever notice the entrance from the outside.”

“Marshfield guests enjoy the illusion of being transported to an easier, simpler time. That's why vehicle traffic around the house is kept to a minimum and we run shuttles between the parking lots and the mansion.”

Liza dawdled, taking in our surroundings as she followed me through the employee entrance up the back stairs to my office.

“Back door for a clean getaway?” she asked when we reached the third-floor landing.

“Don't get any ideas.” I swiped my ID card through the final checkpoint and punched in the code, again taking care not to allow Liza to see. “Input the wrong number combination more than twice and you'll never get out of the place.”

Sullenness swept over her. “I wasn't getting any ideas. I was making a joke.”

I decided not to reply.

“Why is it you always think the worst of me?” she asked.

At the door to our office, I turned. “Start giving me reason to believe otherwise.”

“I've done nothing wrong the whole time I've been here,” she said. “I've followed your rules and surrendered myself to a babysitter. Not one step out of line in an entire week. How much more do I have to prove?”

Clearly, her idea of what was out of line was at war with mine, but I wasn't in the mood to debate. “We'll talk later,” I said and opened the door.

Frances had gotten in before me. Wearing her customary frown and four different purple hues, she waved us in. “It's about time you showed up.”

Liza made an impertinent noise. “After the way I was treated last time, I expected to be bound and shackled if I ever stepped foot here again.”

My assistant's freshly penciled brows jumped high on her forehead. “My,” she said, “you have a gift for hyperbole, don't you?”

If my stomach hadn't been rolling up and tumbling in on itself, I might have laughed. As it was, anxiety's tight grip kept me only faintly aware of the conversation around me. I hung up my coat and started for my office.

“Grace told me
all
about today's meeting.” Liza spoke very softly to Frances as she hung her coat up next to mine. “But I suppose that's obvious, otherwise I wouldn't be here.”

“Oh, right,” Frances's voice boomed. “Trying to get me to tell stories out of school, are you? Think you can fool the old woman into spilling secrets, do you?” She took a step closer to my sister, her considerable bulk encroaching into Liza's personal space, backing her into a corner.

“I . . . I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Then why were you whispering?”

Liza forced a smile. “Politeness. I didn't want to disturb Grace.”

“Sure you didn't,” Frances said, fairly roaring the words. “You whisper that you know everything and you expect me
to believe you're not trying to pull an end run around your sister?”

Fascinated again by Frances's mama-bear behavior, I watched.

Liza gurgled a laugh. “I didn't say, ‘everything.' How would I ever know if it really was everything? There's no way to know that.” Babbling now, Liza backpedaled fast. “What I mean is, Grace told me what I needed to know. I wanted to set your mind at ease.”

Frances folded her arms across her chest as she tapped her foot, regarding my sister coldly. “How kind of you.”

Liza flashed me a “Help me out here?” look. I ignored it. With another strangled laugh, she shrugged. “Yeah, I thought that you might feel awkward with me here. Just trying to be helpful.”

“Oh?” The lilt at the end of Frances's word held more contempt than inquisitiveness. “Why don't you tell me what you know, then?” She took a step back, holding a fleshy arm out toward me. “Better yet, tell both of us about today's meeting. Go ahead. Don't be shy.”

Liza lowered her chin. To anyone else she might appear appropriately chastised. But when she raised her head again, I caught the burn in her eyes.

I took a protective step toward Frances, but she sensed me coming and cut me off. “Thought I was an easy mark, did you?” She closed in on my sister again. “You won't make that mistake again, will you?”

Liza sucked in her cheeks and worked her jaw.

“Will you?”

“What is it with you people? You're all such . . .” She grabbed at the air with wild fingers searching for the right word. “Rule followers. Don't you ever break out of your boring little cages and take a look around? There's a big world out there, where things happen and rules get broken. Where if you can't shift gears when trouble starts, people get hurt. You cling so tightly to your right and wrong and
live your dull lives here without
any
excitement
ever
. You don't know what you're missing.”

Frances and I exchanged a glance. Frances shook her head. “Yeah, we don't know about none of that stuff,” she said, affecting a dimwitted tone. “Nothing
ever
happens around here.”

“Rule followers,” I repeated. Clapping a fist to my chest, I rolled my eyes. “You really know how to wound, don't you?” Turning to Frances, I asked, “Have you talked with Terrence? I thought he'd be here by now.”

As if on cue, our head of security walked into the office that moment. “Good morning, Grace, Frances,” he said with a cheerful nod.

Terrence Carr was perhaps the most chiseled man I'd ever met. Dark skinned and tall, he carried himself with an air of confidence and control that made him extremely effective in his position. When he'd first started at Marshfield—about the same time I had—he'd faced an uphill battle. With inadequate security measures and outdated equipment, he'd had to essentially establish new protocols and build a new system from the ground up. We'd suffered a few tragic losses in the interim and Bennett had, more than once, threatened to fire the man.

Terrence had eventually turned the tide, however, and while Marshfield couldn't boast of cutting-edge technology, we were far more secure than we had ever been.

Smiling at my sister, Terrence said, “You must be Liza. Nice to meet you. My name is Terrence Carr and I'm delighted to be spending time with you this morning.”

My sister's confusion evident, she shook his proffered hand. Her accusatory glance to me asked, “What? Another babysitter?” but she exuded warmth as she greeted Terrence. Her lively gaze took in his sharp gray suit, shiny shoes, and conservative tie. From the moment she said hello I knew she'd tagged him as a well-off professional and fair game. I didn't have the heart to mention that he was a happily married father of three.

“We're running a little late this morning,” Terrence said to me. “Sorry about that. My team is busy with the other guests.” I knew he was referring to Hillary and Frederick, Tooney, Bruce, Scott, representatives from both laboratories, and the plethora of attorneys expected to attend.

“Your team?” Liza asked, all smiles.

“My apologies.” Terrence splayed his hand across his chest. “Chief of security here at Marshfield.”

Impressed, Liza exclaimed, “Oh!” Her voice lowered as she repeated herself, “Oh,” this second utterance edged with disappointment and accompanied by a glare at me. Flinging her arms tight across her chest with such force that it twisted the straps of her purse around her waist and back again, she launched into a high-pitched snit. “Head of security? What's going on?” She took a step back, though where she expected to go, I couldn't imagine. “Why am I really here?”

I hadn't anticipated the reaction. Her claim that I didn't trust her rang a familiar bell in my brain. “This has nothing to do with you, Liza,” I began quietly. “It's not safe to leave you home by yourself and I couldn't think of anyone else to keep you company.”

She pointed a quivering finger at Terrence. “But why the head of security? Why him?” Twisting to indicate Frances, she asked, “What's wrong with that one keeping an eye on me? What's so important? Am I here for an interrogation?”

“An interrogation?” I repeated. “Of course not.” I stopped, studying her. “Why? What are you afraid of?”

Her gaze hopped from Terrence to Frances before it settled back on me. “You,” she said, but the bite in her tone had weakened. “I never know what you have planned for me. It's no fun having to follow new rules every day.
You
try living like that.”

“Let's start again, shall we?” I said. “Terrence will be keeping you company for however long this meeting lasts. And before you ask, I don't know how long that will be. I can't imagine more than an hour, though.”

Mollified, or at least less freaked out than she'd been moments earlier, Liza nodded.

Terrence and I exchanged a glance. “If you'll follow me, Liza, one of my staff is waiting for us,” he said. “We are set up in a comfortable parlor on the second floor.” He frowned at his watch, then said to me, “You're due downstairs now, aren't you?”

I nodded. A
whoosh
of terrified excitement blossomed in my gut, making me tingle from head to toe. The drama with Liza had momentarily taken my mind off the reason for today's precautions. This was it. There was no turning back. Bennett and I would know the truth today. Adrenaline zoomed up my back like a rocket, exploding into a million zigzagging pieces, sparkling in my brain.

“Why are you blushing?” Liza asked. Her eyes narrowed. “You're not getting married or something, are you?”

Despite my high-wire tension, I laughed.

The office door opened and Agent McClowery stepped in. He opened his mouth to speak, but was startled into silence when he spotted Liza.

“Agent McClowery?” Liza asked, punctuating the awkwardness of the situation. “What are you doing here?”

Frances fixed her glare on me. “Agent?”

Terrence closed his eyes for a brief, regretful moment. Had he and Liza left two minutes sooner, this unfortunate encounter could have been avoided.

McClowery's jaw tightened. His eyes flashed. “Ms. Wheaton. That is, Ms.
Grace
Wheaton, a moment of your time?” He pointed to my office.

I turned to Terrence. “Please take my sister down to the parlor, as arranged.” He nodded, touched Liza's elbow, and gestured. “Let's go.”

Like a cat might, Frances had puffed herself up. In mere seconds it seemed she'd doubled in size, wrath rippling like steam from her face. The moment the other two were gone, she said, “Apparently there's a great deal more I'm unaware of.”

“One minute, Frances.” I held up a finger. “One minute.”

“They're waiting for you downstairs.” Cheeks pinked with vexation, she tilted her head condescendingly. “Or did this ‘agent' of yours make you forget about the most important day in the Mister's life?”

“I haven't forgotten. Please, I need you to go down there and let Bennett know I'm on my way. Take him to the side and tell him—very quietly, making certain no one overhears—that Agent McClowery is here. Please also inform him that my sister encountered the agent here in my office. Can you do that for me?”

She raked a gaze over McClowery, bunched her lips, and glowered. “I'm not feeble, of course I
can
do it.” Raising her chin to indicate the agent, she asked, “The Mister knows this fellow?”