“Hi, Dad.” Morgan hurried into the private dining room at Beaugere’s, grateful for the quiet after the crap week she’d had. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t be.” Jackson greeted her with a warm hug before gesturing to one of the chairs at a table equally suited for bank owners or their employees. The soft seafoam green walls and the delicate embroidered silk fabric draping the etched glass windows that overlooked the small serenity garden outside lightened Morgan’s heart. How many birthdays, anniversaries, and graduations had they celebrated here?
“I’m just glad you could make it at the last minute,” Jackson said. “Nathan’s running behind and Sheila is discussing some catering plans with Chef Catalan.”
“Sheila’s building a solid client list.” Morgan pushed her purse under the table so she couldn’t access her phone. She’d taken Sheila’s comments about her lack of family attentiveness to heart and amended her schedule to fit her father’s last-minute request. Weaning herself off her cell phone during dinner was her next goal. She slumped back, tempted to kick off her shoes and give her overworked feet a break. “If I never have another week like this one, I will be eternally grateful. The fact that tomorrow is Friday is the best news ever.” All she had to do was get through tomorrow’s meeting with the new accountant for the foundation.
Her weeklong quest of visiting every downtown business asking for donations had added up to a cool thirty thousand, which meant she was still a hundred seventy thousand short. Next week she planned on daylong trips to Santa Barbara and then a couple of Los Angeles suburbs. With more than three weeks to go, she was beginning to feel as if she might pull off a financial coup. Add to that she’d found a steal of a deal on a semi-new washing machine on Craigslist, and she was putting this week in the win column.
Her tired smile faded as she caught the faraway look in her father’s eyes. “Dad? Is something wrong?”
He blinked as if coming out of a trance. “You reminded me of your mother just then. The combination of exhilaration and dedication.” The sadness didn’t hover as long as it used to, but Morgan didn’t think it would ever fully fade. Her parents had been married for over thirty years and rarely spent more than a few days apart.
And then, one day, Catherine was gone.
“It’s her birthday soon,” he said. “The first one since the accident.”
“Whatever you want to do that day”—Morgan reached for his hand—“I cleared my calendar.”
“Appreciate that. But I’ll be okay. Besides, you don’t need to add me to your list of responsibilities. Speaking of which, how are things going with the center?”
Morgan bit her tongue. “Kent and I spent the day revamping the construction schedule. The latest inspection revealed a sewer line wasn’t properly hooked into the system, so we’re looking at maybe a three-week delay.” It could be a month, considering they had to schedule another inspection. Morgan was almost numb to the shock of bad news by now. Then again, given the mountain she still had to scale, what was another ten, fifteen, or a hundred thousand dollars? At least that bank account was holding. For now.
“The subcontractor who did the work is going to cover the cost, I assume?”
Morgan nodded and rubbed her temple, wishing away the headache that had been plaguing her for two days. “For the new work and the supplies, sure, but the delay is going to stretch our budget pretty thin.” A budget that could still be bolstered by local fund-raisers, but honestly, how many bake sales and car washes could Lantano Valley host? “Sometimes I worry I’m letting Mom down. That I’m failing her.” When the confession slipped out, a tiny bubble of tension popped in her chest, as if the small admission was enough to let her breathe again.
“You are not failing her.” Jackson squeezed her fingers. “No one could have stepped into her shoes like you have. It’s been a relief to me knowing how determined you are, how passionate you feel about the foundation and continuing your mother’s work. I couldn’t have done it, Morgan. Without you, the foundation would have died with your mother.”
Guilt and responsibility bore down on her like an avalanche. She grasped the cameo her mother had given her, wishing it would trigger inspiration or give her some guidance. Maybe she should tell him the truth. Maybe it was time to admit the truth. Maybe she should ask for help—
“If I can find a way to clone Gina Juliano, I will make a freaking fortune.” Sheila swept into the room, pale peach fabric skimming the tops of her knees as she teetered on four-inch Pradas. “Do you know she’s already found me three new clients and sent out flyers to seventeen grammar and high schools inviting them to participate in her new fund-raising test program? And those clients? She talked them into making a donation to the foundation in exchange for certain “perks” that were already included in my standard contract.” She fanned herself with her hand as she took a seat across from Morgan. “She hasn’t even worked for us for a week and I’m thinking about giving her a raise.”
“This would be Gage’s sister?” Jackson poured Sheila a glass of white wine as she sat across from Morgan. “Must run in the family.”
“She’d take the foundation global, given half the chance,” Morgan said.
“Might be something to that. Speaking of Gage.” Jackson tilted the bottle in Morgan’s direction, but she shook her head. “Will we be seeing him again anytime soon?”
“I’m sure Morgan will be,” Sheila teased.
“We’ve been playing text tag all week.” All day. Every day. Into the night. With both their jobs running them twenty-four/seven, Morgan enjoyed the constant communication, the bantering, the opportunity to vent and have someone listen and then joke her out of her frustration or worry. While Morgan missed seeing him, the physical distance kept her sane. Secrets stayed secrets so much easier when you didn’t have to look someone in the eye and lie.
And she had to admit, even though Nemesis’ latest reported transgression had proven false, she’d needed reminding of the minefield she was traversing with Gage. Not that she could walk away from him now. Not with the success he and his family had been having bringing Drew along. Whatever magic they’d worked on him at J & J Markets, Morgan hadn’t seen him frown in three days. She’d even gotten a smile out of him over breakfast this morning.
When it seemed as if her father and sister were waiting for more information on her social life, she sighed, rolled her eyes. “Hard to mesh schedules.”
“Mesh, mesh.” Sheila waved an encouraging hand. “Please let me live vicariously through you.”
“There’s nothing stopping you from finding a Gage of your own,” Jackson said.
“Dad, please,” Morgan said. “Gage and I aren’t serious. It’s just—”
“He bitch-slapped that CPS woman,” Sheila stated. “And saved Drew from the detention center. Even got him a job, which, according to Gina, is going quite well. And then there’s that magic wand Gage bought for Kelley. He bought a magic wand.” Sheila tapped her finger against her lips as if to hide a knowing grin. “Trust me. He’s serious.”
As if she needed reminding of what made Gage special. “Sheila, that doesn’t mean—”
“Oh, my God. Do not screw this up.” Sheila gaped at her. “That man is crazy about you and you know it. Not to mention the fact that he gets your life, the work, the kids, and he’s still interested. Doesn’t get much better than that.”
The idea of thinking long-term with Gage was akin to rolling a grenade into the room with the pin half-pulled. She wouldn’t know when, but when the bomb exploded, the fallout would be devastating. Especially now that he was tied to the kids, to Drew.
“Please let’s continue talking about my love life because it’s the perfect topic to discuss in front of my father.”
Jackson picked up his drink, considered the ice cubes. “In case either of you needs reminding, you wouldn’t be here if your mother and I hadn’t had a love life.”
“So not a statement you want to hear before dinner.” Nathan stopped inside the door, looking as if second thoughts had stolen his ability to walk. “Bourbon, straight, please,” he said to the waiter who followed him in. “Actually, make that a double.” He shrugged out of his jacket. “What have I missed?”
“Nothing Morgan wishes to discuss further.” Sheila grinned. “And what kept you?”
“I ran into Alcina Oliver on my way in. She’s trying to convince Malcolm to come back for that birthday celebration you’ve been planning for her.”
“The Malcolm Oliver you dated while I was away at college?” Morgan glanced at Sheila, who couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if she had just sat on a porcupine.
“That’s him.” Nathan said, angling a look at Sheila, who was suddenly overly focused on her menu. But before either Morgan or Nathan could pounce, she shifted her attention to their father.
“So what’s with the impromptu dinner, Dad?”
Jackson took a moment and looked at each of them, a calm Morgan hadn’t seen in some time settling over him. “Well, I’d planned to broach the subject after we ate, but I guess now is as good a time as any.” He took a moment. “I’m thinking about selling the house. In fact, I’d like to.”
Whatever air was left in Morgan’s lungs evaporated. She looked at Sheila, then Nathan, and figured the same sick feeling had to be squirming its way through their stomachs. “Sell Mom’s house?”
“You’d like to,” Nathan repeated, leaning his arms on the table, ignoring the drink the waiter set in front of him except to say, “Give us a while, will you, please?”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter left and closed the door behind him. The trickling of the fountain in the serenity garden echoed in the room.
“Are you sure, Dad?” Sheila inclined her head, as if she couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept.
“Why?” Morgan felt cold, as if every molecule of warmth had been snatched from the room. “Why now?”
Jackson placed a hand on each of his daughter’s arms. “I’ve been giving this some thought for some time. It is, it was, your mother’s house. We built it together from the ground up, raised you all in it. Every breath taken inside its walls was because of her. Knowing she’ll never walk down those stairs again with me in the morning, not seeing her struggle with the coffeepot or try to figure out the microwave—”
“Or the popcorn machine.” Nathan laughed.
“Or the time she turned the oven to self-cleaning on Thanksgiving and cooked toxic turkey?” Sheila wiped a tear from her cheek.
“It was our home, all of ours,” Jackson agreed. “Which makes this a family decision.”
Morgan couldn’t help but feel as if one of her last anchors had slipped its mooring. Family decision or not, she had the feeling her father had already made up his mind. “I still expect her to walk through the door at any minute.”
“One reason I haven’t been around as much as I could have been,” Nathan admitted. “You’re right, Dad. It does hurt to be there.”
“I can be home more,” Sheila offered. “I can make it a point to be—”
“Sheila, the fact that you moved in after the accident was the greatest gift you could have given me, but I refuse to allow my children to live for anyone other than themselves.” He aimed a pointed look at Morgan. “A lesson I hope you’re learning. The last thing your mother would want is for you to miss out on the chance to be happy.”
“We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you and Mom.” Morgan’s eyes burned, clouded, but she pulled the tears back. Now wasn’t the time to give in.
“Do you know that her closet is exactly the way she left it the morning of the accident?” Jackson squeezed her arm. “Her nightgown is still draped over the dresser. The watch she forgot to put on is in the glass dish beside her jewelry box. The dress she needed to press before dinner has the dry cleaner bag half-off. It’s like passing by a portal into the past every time I walk into our bedroom. There isn’t a moment I would want to forget, Morgan. But something has to change. I have to live for now. Not for what should have been.”
***
“These records are a miracle, thank you, Morgan.” When he accepted the USB thumb drive, Elliot Dunbar gave Morgan a look of such relief that she might have smiled if her heart hadn’t been slamming against her throat. “Ralph’s records are a disaster,” Elliot continued. “I can’t believe he could function under these conditions.”
Ralph’s records were a mess because the foundation’s accountant had been covering for her.
Guilt settled inside her like a hibernating bear, suffocating the regret over having to turn away a doctor who had called her for help with his terminal patient. It was all Morgan could do not to scream at the timing. Even if she’d had the money to give, with the new accountant watching the foundation’s funds so closely, there was no way to get to it without arousing suspicion. She was failing. And falling. With no net in sight.
Morgan could only hope the second set of books she’d handed over to Elliot would buy her the time she needed to come up with the last of the money.
“Glad I could help,” Morgan told him with a forced smile.
“I know the independent auditor will appreciate your attention to detail.”
Morgan’s ears roared as if she’d just dived off Niagara Falls. “I’m sorry. Independent auditor?”
Elliot stopped shuffling papers. “I thought you knew. Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed. Before I take on any account I like someone from the outside to take a look and make sure we’re heading in free and clear. Nothing to worry about.” He continued sorting and stacking. “While I can’t see where Ralph kept anything on computer, your records are meticulous. Thank goodness you pay such close attention to detail.”
“Ralph was old school.” Morgan was amazed she could eke out the words. The books she’d just turned over were more fictional than Dan Brown’s latest conspiracy thriller. “So, um, when do you expect the audit to begin?”
“A week on the outside. I’d like to get it taken care of before that balloon payment on the first half of construction is due.”
“Right, of course.” The clock in her head that had been counting down doubled in speed.
“In fact.” Elliot frowned. “I think I have an email in here from Talbot and Sons. I went to grad school with their youngest, and since it’s for a charity, he offered to do the audit free of charge.” Elliot shoved a stack of files aside and unearthed his keyboard. “Yeah. Let’s see, they’ll be sending someone over on the twenty-fourth. So, next Wednesday. I can have it moved up if you want.”
“No.” Morgan forced a laugh to cover the fear-induced urgency in her tone. “No, you’re right. Getting it all in order before the big payment is due should be our main concern.”
“Well, the check from the fund-raiser has cleared, so we should be in good shape for that. I’m familiarizing myself with the bylaws now and we should all be on the same page to move forward.” Elliot smiled. “Glad to hear you’re okay with me as your new go-to guy. We’ll make a good team.”
“Great. Thanks.” Morgan pushed herself to her feet, grateful that her knees didn’t fold under her. The walk to the door and into the hall felt like a mile hike, each step agony. Hugging her arms around her chest, she wandered to the window and stared into the blinding sunlight as she chewed on her thumbnail, the pain a welcome reprieve from her racing thoughts.
Five days to deposit money she didn’t have.
“Morgan?”
“Huh?” Morgan blinked sunspots from her eyes as Sheila headed toward her. “Oh, hey.” She resumed chewing on her finger.
“I asked if you wanted to come see my new office. How did the meeting with Elliot go?”
“Um. Great. Just fine.”
Sheila pulled Morgan’s thumb from her mouth. “Stop gnawing on your hand like a starving hyena. Did Elliot say something to upset you? Is there something going on with the foundation?”
“What?” Shocked at the suggestion, Morgan gaped. “No, of course not. What would make you say something like that?” What had she done wrong? Had she slipped the other night, said something that made Sheila think she was failing?
“Then what happened?”
For an instant Sheila’s face shifted into their mother’s—the same coloring, the same concerned green eyes. The same kind tone Morgan had longed to hear for the past year. In that desperate desire to confide in someone, in the mother she missed so much she ached with it, she blurted out, “Did you ever do something very wrong for the right reason?”
Sheila’s hand tightened around hers. “Tell me what’s going on, Morgan. What did you do?”
Morgan swallowed, considering, debating. She almost crossed over and trusted, but she couldn’t take the chance. Anyone she told at this point could be held as responsible as she was, and she wasn’t about to put anyone else at risk. “It’s nothing. I’ll figure it out,” Morgan said softly. “I’ll, um, I’ll call you.” She tugged her hand free, headed toward the elevator. Five days. A hundred twenty hours.
“Morgan?” Sheila called before hurrying to catch up with her. “If you can’t talk to me about it, there is someone who will listen.”
Morgan’s heart clenched. She’d been playing with fire getting closer to him, and now look. She was about to be incinerated. Was there any way to extricate herself from this mess without Gage finding out what she’d done? “Gage can’t help me.”
“At least give him the chance,” Sheila pleaded as the elevator doors opened. “Do not turn away because you’re scared of what could be. He’s good for you. You and I both know how fast people we love can be taken away.”