STILL FURIOUS WITH JACK, TAYLOR PACKED UP EVAN AND GOT on the road after breakfast. Just hearing the name Dakota brought it all back to her. The memory of the only time Taylor had met her came rushing back. Wild red hair, icy blue eyes full of challenge, and those plump red lips giving Taylor a nasty smile then taunting her with her references to Jack as her husband. It had taken Taylor years to forgive him for his betrayal and despite knowing that Damon Crosse had been the one to place Dakota in Jack’s path, it still cut her to the core every time she thought about them being together. And now Dakota was back and wanted Jack to help her? It was unthinkable. As soon as he had heard Dakota’s voice he should have ended the call. Scenario after scenario filled her mind the entire drive and by the time she arrived at UBC her mood was dark. She drove into the underground parking lot and pulled into a space. Picking up her phone, she saw she had three missed calls from Jack and one text message. Please call me. I hate leaving like this. I’ll try you again when I get to Boston if I don’t hear from you before then. I love you!
She threw the phone into her purse.
When she freed Evan from his car seat, he started to fuss. “Walk, Mama.”
“Okay, one minute, sweetie. After we get to the elevator, you can walk.”
“No, walk! Now!”
There was no way she was letting him walk by himself in the parking garage. She tightened her hold as he tried to wiggle out of her arms.
“Evan, please. Just one minute.” Her tone was sharper than she intended, and he started to cry.
Sighing, she hurried through the garage until they reached the elevator. Once inside, she put him down and reached for his hand, but he pulled away and stood in the corner. She let him be. At least he was safe in here, since the elevator opened into the actual office building. When the doors opened, he ran out ahead of her and she had to chase him down the hall before going through security. Not an auspicious start to her day. She reached him and scooped him up amid more squeals of protest.
When they got to the daycare center, he ran over to the bookcase and grabbed the same book of fairy tales from the day before and sat down on a beanbag chair.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “It’s been quite the morning. He’s a little out of sorts,” she told Delilah.
The woman smiled and patted Taylor’s arm. “It’s hard being little. They can’t communicate as well as they’d like. They get frustrated.”
They’re not the only ones, Taylor thought. She went over to her son and knelt next to him. “Evan, please look at Mommy.”
He looked up, his big brown eyes earnest.
“Sweetie, it’s not safe for you to run from Mommy. I know you wanted to walk, but I have to keep you safe. Okay?”
He gave her a solemn nod, then threw his arms around her. “Mama read.”
She opened the book. “Which story?” She began to read from “The Frog Prince,” but after a few words, he shook his head.
“No, no, no. Me.” He pointed a finger at his chest.
She tried again but he grabbed the book from her and threw it on the floor.
Taylor stood up. “I think it’s time for Mommy to go to work.” She leaned down to kiss him. “Have fun. I love you.”
Delilah gave her a sympathetic look. “He’ll be fine.”
Evan threw his arms around Taylor’s neck and gave her a wet kiss on her cheek. Her heart melted. “See you soon. Be a good boy.”
She left before any more theatrics could ensue and took the elevator to Karen’s office on the twentieth floor. Karen was traveling for a story today so she’d offered her space to Taylor, who had scheduled two Skype interviews with families she’d identified as possible substitutes for Cora’s.
“Morning, Krystal,” she greeted Karen’s admin.
“Hey, Taylor. Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good, thanks. I’ll grab a coffee in a bit.”
She flipped the light switch on and the lamp on the glass desk illuminated the room with soft light. Walking over to the large window, she gazed out at Central Park. The magnificent view from Karen’s office never failed to lift her spirits. She forced Dakota from her mind, telling herself she’d deal with it when Jack got home from Boston. It was probably better that they had some time to cool off anyway. Opening her laptop, she went over her notes from her meeting with Molly and Clyde Edwards and emailed the camera team to get some available times to set up the recorded interview. Going through the rest of her emails took another hour, and feeling stiff, she got up and stretched, then made her way to the kitchen, where she popped a pod into the coffee maker and debated whether or not to stop in for a quick check on Evan. After his rough morning, it might not be wise, but she decided she needed to, for her own peace of mind. When she got there, the nap time sign was up, but she turned the doorknob anyway. It was locked. She stood there a moment, paralyzed by indecision, but unable to walk away. Her stomach suddenly in knots, she took a deep breath and rapped on the door. It opened and Delilah, holding an infant in her arms, put her finger to her lips.
“Sorry,” Taylor whispered. “I just wanted to check on Evan.”
Delilah pointed. Evan was asleep in one of the toddler beds.
Feeling suddenly foolish, she mouthed thank you and backed out of the room. She returned to Karen’s office and reviewed the age discrimination cases. Georgia Lakos was an eighty-year-old woman who had been active and vibrant until she began to experience shortness of breath and chest pains upon exertion. She worked full-time as a professor at the University of Connecticut and had been healthy and fit her entire life, so she’d been shocked when her internist had referred her to a cardiologist. After an echocardiogram, they discovered that her mitral valve needed replacing. She’d had scarlet fever as a child, which had apparently weakened it.
The doctor’s office submitted the paperwork for the surgery, but the insurance company denied the claim, stating that her age made it too dangerous and that, statistically, the outcome of such a surgery for those eighty and over had a low percentage of success. Since she was still working and had insurance, she hadn’t enrolled in Medicare Part B, which would have covered the procedure. If she’d wanted to proceed with no insurance, she’d have been looking at close to fifty thousand dollars in medical bills. If she hadn’t had the surgery, she would have continued to decline. Fortunately for Georgia, her son, a successful attorney, had had the money to pay for the surgery and did. He was the one who had initiated the class action lawsuit against Jefferson Health.
Georgia’s surgery had been successful and within two months, she was back at work full-time, doing her gardening and taking her daily three-mile walk. Taylor clicked through the photos and was surprised to see how young Georgia looked. Even though she was now eighty-one, she could have easily passed for someone in her sixties. She had light brown hair, the gray most likely removed at the salon, and a pretty face, with warm, intelligent eyes. Reading about a woman in her eighties brought to mind someone frail and gray, and Taylor knew that stereotype existed in most people’s minds. It would be good for the public to see the new face of eighty and to realize that people shouldn’t have an expiration date forced on them. Georgia lived in Greenwich, and Taylor decided to take a chance and see if she might be available for a visit. Her home was only about 40 minutes north of the city.
* * *
After a quick phone call, Taylor was on the road, and less than an hour later, she arrived on Georgia’s street and pulled up to a small blue Cape Cod in a quaint neighborhood. The outside was pristine, with vibrant pink and purple azalea bushes lining both sides of the front of the house. The front door was open, and not finding a doorbell, Taylor knocked on the screen door. She heard heels clicking and watched as a trim woman dressed neatly in a stylish navy skirt and cream silk blouse walked toward her. She looked even younger in person. She opened the door and extended her hand to Taylor.
“Ms. Parks, please come in.”
“Please call me Taylor. Your azaleas are just gorgeous.”
Georgia Lakos smiled at her, her brown eyes warm. “Thank you. Shall we go in the kitchen? I’ve put some coffee on.”
Taylor followed her through the hallway to a cozy kitchen where a gentle breeze blew in from the open window over the sink. Taking a seat at the round wooden table, she noticed the Times crossword puzzle already three-quarters of the way finished, and in ink no less.
“How do you take your coffee, Taylor?”
“A little cream, please. Thank you, Dr. Lakos.”
“Georgia, please.”
“Thank you again for seeing me, especially on such short notice,” Taylor said, then she asked, “Is Lakos Greek?”
Georgia smiled. “Yes. I’m first generation. My parents came over in their twenties.”
“I’m half Greek. On my mother’s side.”
“Milás Elliniká?” Georgia asked.
“I speak a little Greek, but not well, I’m afraid. I’m out of practice.”
Georgia put a hand on hers. “You must learn. One’s heritage is very important. You’ve been to Greece, yes?”
“Many times. I haven’t been in a few years but I’m planning to get there when my son’s a little older. My family is from Patmos.”
Georgia’s eyes widened. “My family is as well! It’s a beautiful island.”
Taylor thought for a moment. “Lakos, Lakos . . . now I know why your name seemed familiar. Are you related to Panos Lakos? The doctor?”
Georgia smiled. “He’s my cousin! Do you know him?”
Taylor nodded. “Yes, a few years ago when I was there with my late husband I sprained my ankle. After I saw Dr. Lakos at the clinic, he followed up a few times at my aunt’s house. Such a kind man.”
“What a small world,” Georgia said.
“Well, I guess we should get started. I know you’re a professor at UConn. You teach neuroscience, right?”
“Yes. The brain is a fascinating organ. So much of our behavior is influenced by chemicals. People tend to think their behavior is completely in their control. They don’t realize how often other factors come into play.”
Taylor was intrigued. “This is uncanny, actually—my husband is also a journalist and is working on a story right now where people seem to be acting out of character. There’s been a string of violent crimes, all committed by previously model citizens. He’s trying to see if there’s something that connects them all.”
The older woman tilted her head. “I saw something a few weeks ago on the news about that woman who killed her son’s Little League coach. Are you saying there are more?”
Taylor nodded. “Eighteen, I think. All on the East Coast.”
“That’s very odd indeed.”
Taylor cleared her throat. “So, back to the case with Jefferson Health. The angle we would take with your story would be that you were discriminated against based on age. I’d really love for our viewers to see you and to see that eighty is just a number and that—”
“I’m not washed up yet?” Georgia interrupted with a teasing tone.
“No. I didn’t mean that.” Taylor felt her cheeks grow warm.
Georgia patted Taylor’s hand. “I know you didn’t. Listen, I get it. My students almost fall off their chairs when I tell them my age. I want people to see that age is just a number. That you can be old at forty and young at ninety. There’s no doubt in my mind that Jefferson thinks that their money is wasted trying to save the lives of anyone of advanced age. And, yes, I look young. But even if I didn’t, it would still be wrong. Even if I were frail and wrinkled, who are they to dictate who gets to live and who gets to die?”
Taylor nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. They’ve been playing God. I’m hoping we can stir the public up to say enough.”
Georgia sighed. “I hope so, too, but I think everyone has become resigned to the fact that it’s a losing battle. I was so lucky that my son had the means to pay for my surgery, but most people don’t have that luxury. It’s criminal.”
“So you’ll come on the show?” Taylor asked.
“Yes. I’d be honored to.”
“Well, I need to get back and pick up my son from daycare. It was so nice talking to you. I’ll get back to you after I speak with Ms. Printz and we’re able to finalize the details. I’ll likely come back with a camera crew and get the interview filmed next week.”
“That sounds fine.”
Taylor really liked this woman and acted on impulse when she said, “Any chance you’re free tomorrow? I’d love to have you come over for dinner and meet Jack. Maybe you could shed some expert light onto his story.”
“That sounds lovely.”
Taylor wrote down her address on the back of her business card and handed it to her. “Shall we say five?”
“Perfect. I’ll bring wine.”
Taylor left feeling buoyed by the visit and her mood lifted even more as she thought about spending more time with Georgia. There was something so warm and genuine about her. Taylor hoped that when she was eighty, she’d have half the energy and verve that Georgia had, but more than that, she’d felt a connection to her interviewee. For a moment, she allowed herself to think of what her own mother would have been like if she’d lived. The familiar pain returned, and she took a deep breath.
* * *
It was just after four when Taylor pulled into the parking lot at UBC. She hurried to the elevator, suddenly anxious to see Evan. When she got to the daycare, he was lying on one of the sofas, hugging his stuffed dinosaur.
“Hi, pumpkin. You okay?”
He didn’t move, but just looked at Taylor with sad eyes. She walked over and put a hand on his forehead. He didn’t feel warm, but he did look a little pale.
“Has he been like this all day?” she asked Delilah, who was helping a little girl with her snack. She felt the fingers of fear grip her and she wondered if the warning about Evan had been about his health.
Delilah turned to Taylor. “No. Just in the past half hour. He had a good day, but he’s a little tired. I think he’s ready to go home.”
Taylor leaned down and stroked his hair. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go.”
He stood and held his arms up to Taylor, dropping the stuffed animal. “Up.” She scooped him up as Delilah picked up the dinosaur and handed it to him. He put his head on her shoulder and his thumb in his mouth.
Delilah put a hand on Taylor’s arm. “Taylor, about earlier . . .”
Taylor turned to her. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have disturbed you during nap time. It won’t happen again.”
The woman smiled at her. “Thank you. I hope you know that if there were anything of concern going on with Evan, I’d call you immediately.”
Taylor nodded. “I do know. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I have anything but the fullest trust in you. It’s just been a rough few days, and I needed to see him, but I’ll respect the rules.” Even as the words left her lips, she realized she only half meant it. She understood that they needed to have rules, but a part of her bristled at being told she couldn’t see her own child whenever she wanted.
Delilah smiled at her. “Wonderful. Thanks for understanding.”
“All right, sweet boy. Let’s go.”
Evan was quiet when Taylor put him in his car seat and asleep before they even pulled out of the parking lot. She hoped he wasn’t coming down with something.
She wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable confrontation with Jack tonight. She grudgingly admitted to herself that Jack’s sense of loyalty—a trait she admired—could sometimes make him behave in ways she found hard to understand. Sybil had been the one who had comforted Jack during those times when Dakota was acting crazy and making his life miserable. But still, the thought of him even being in the same room with Dakota, much less coming to her rescue, made Taylor feel physically ill. Up until now, things had been so easy between Jack and her. After finding each other again, they’d been nearly inseparable these past couple of years. They’d easily fallen into their roles as husband and wife and parents to Evan. Jack had cared about Evan before he was even born and had done everything in his power to protect Taylor’s pregnancy during their time running from Crosse. It didn’t matter that Evan wasn’t his blood; Jack was as much his father as Taylor was his mother. The voice of reason told her that she had nothing to fear from Dakota, that she wasn’t a threat to their relationship and that Jack knew what a horrible person Dakota was. But the part of her that had been betrayed by those closest to her wouldn’t stand down and made her wonder if the past few years with Jack had just been a pleasant illusion. An interlude of happiness that was about to end.
Her thoughts drifted to the other man who’d betrayed her, the one she’d always believed to be her real father, and she felt a tightness in her chest as a deep sadness overcame her. Even after all this time, she was unable to reconcile the memories of Warwick Parks with the man who had almost killed her. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with her memories—images of Warwick were intermingled with some of her happiest times with her mother. How could she discard him without losing the precious moments with the woman she’d loved so much? She’d grown up thinking he was a loving father only to find out he didn’t care any more about her than he did an expensive piece of furniture or collectible bottle of wine. Was Jack going to break her heart, too? She wiped a tear from her cheek and took a deep breath, sitting up straighter. She wasn’t about to be a victim again. Whatever was in Jack’s heart and mind, she planned to lay it bare. She wasn’t going to just sit back and let that woman poison their lives again.