“Well, I also stopped by to tell you that Brad’s done a little discreet digging and we know why Rod McGuire is so willing to take up the sword for Charles.”
“Please tell me he didn’t put himself in a vulnerable position to do it. I’d hate it if this mess spilled over into your lives and damaged it some way.”
“Trust me. He was the soul of discretion. But he has some clients who were in college with Charles and Rod. He casually brought up the names while they were all at dinner the other night.” She grinned. “And maybe he led them to believe he was a lot closer to him.”
Julia sat up straight, nerves vibrating. “And? Don’t keep me in suspense here.”
“It seems in his younger days Rod had a gambling habit. A bad one he acquired in prep school.”
Julia waved a dismissive hand. “Some of Charles’s friends used to joke about it. They all did it.”
“But I’m sure none of them became addicted to it the way Rod did.”
“And?”
“He loved to bet. Horses. Race cars. Sports events. Anything. In college he got in pretty deep with the wrong people. His father had already threatened to cut him off after paying off two huge debts, so he couldn’t go to him for money. Whoever these guys were, they beat him up pretty bad. He managed to call Charles, who picked him up and wanted to take him to the hospital.”
“That bad?”
“Oh, yeah. Rod refused to go so Charles booked them into a cheap motel, went to the drugstore for supplies, and nursed him back to decent condition. He also took his own money and paid off the bookies, told them they better not ever take a bet from Rod again. Then, until they graduated from college and law school and even when they joined their fathers’ law firm, he made it his business to keep Rod out of trouble.”
“Damn!” Julia sucked in a breath. “That’s why he feels so loyal to him.”
“Yeah. He owes the guy his life. Literally.”
“No wonder it’s such a blood vendetta.” She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead.
“Honey, don’t make yourself sick over this. We’ll figure out how to handle this.”
Wouldn’t that be nice. Unlikely, but nice.
That night when she crawled into bed, for the first time in months she allowed herself the luxury of tears. The enormity of what Charles had set in motion made her physically ill. Stuffing the pillow against her face so her sobs would be silent, she wondered if the rip in her own heart would ever heal. How cruel life was to offer her the golden ring and then snatch it away with such violent abruptness.
During the following week, Charles began sleeping most of the time. By the weekend, he quietly slipped into a coma and then he was gone. The funeral home picked up what was left of the man she’d once thought she loved. A crew from the medical supply company disconnected machines, packed up supplies, and returned the den to its original state. Claire, as always, came in response to her call and supervised the process. Miranda had taken the children upstairs and was absorbing their sorrow with her usual kindness and unflappability. Although, as Julia sat in the kitchen numb in every extremity, she wondered how they could mourn for a man who had treated them so coldly.
One hour later, it was as if none of it happened, except for the wreckage of her life strewn in its wake.
“Here, drink this.” Claire set a fresh mug of tea in front of Julia.
“I think I’m turning into a tea bag.”
“It’s herbal and decaffeinated. Dr. Berlin said there’s nothing in it to harm the baby, and maybe it will do you some good.” She waited a heartbeat. “I hate to bring this up, but have you thought about funeral arrangements?”
“I didn’t even have to give them a moment’s consideration.” Julia snorted. “Charles was thoughtful enough to take care of the preparations with his parents and his partners. The service will be at the funeral home, and he’ll be buried in the family plot at the cemetery. I don’t have to do anything but show up.”
“I’d take that as a relief, rather than an offense. You don’t need to be entangling yourself in those details right now. The baby’s due in a month.”
“I know, I know. I just feel like I’m on the outside looking in on everything.”
“Sometimes it’s a good way to be,” Claire told her in a soft voice.
The day of the funeral was blazing hot. She was sure everyone in the crowd of mourners was conscious of her advanced pregnancy. She sat at the graveside clutching the hands of her children. Her face was shadowed by an enormous black hat that barely protected her from the broiling sun. She chalked up the lack of sympathy for her to the obvious shunning by Elise and Howard. And Charles’s partners, especially Rod McGuire, who always made his hatred and distaste for her blatantly evident. Both at the funeral home and the cemetery he’d kept as far from her as possible. The expression on his face, however, left no doubt about his feelings.
Most of the people at the funeral were clients or friends of the elder Pattersons or the partners. Without Claire, she’d never have gotten through the day. The service itself seemed endless, and at the cemetery, the minister droned on interminably, unaware that everyone surreptitiously blotted at their perspiration. Julia felt as if she’d been stuffed into an oven in a tight corset. By the end of the graveside service, she could barely breathe.
With Andy and Beth beside her, she took one white rose and placed it on the casket. Then she gladly let Claire lead them away to an air-conditioned car and home. All the mourners were invited back to the senior Pattersons’ after the service. Howard and
