Family Matters (DiCarlo Brides book 4) (The DiCarlo Brides) (5 page)

“Of course I want her! You think I would have given her up at all if I’d felt like I had another reasonable option—or if the Markhams hadn’t been there, waiting with open arms to treat my baby the way every kid deserves?” Anger blasted through her at the insinuation that she might not be thrilled at this second chance.

“What about the father?” Cami asked. “Where was he through all of this?”

“He took off the minute he found out I was pregnant,” Rosemary said, crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant gesture. There was only a twinge of regret now, after so many years, though it had been painful at the time. “I couldn’t even find him to have him sign the papers. Never heard a word from him again.”

“Lovely taste in men, you have,” Delphi said.

“Yeah. Tell me about it. Me and men are such a bad mix. It’s too bad they have to be so appealing.” Rosemary sighed heavily, thinking of Harrison and the way he came to talk to her earlier. He was so confusing.

“So what do you want us to tell everyone?” Cami asked.

Rosemary considered, still not clear on how she felt about everything. “Nothing for now. I’ll talk with the attorneys and Cleo, see what’s going on, and we’ll figure it out when I get back.” The next words were hard to speak, but despite their differences and their petty squabbles, they’d all managed to pull together when needed for the public eye. “I’ve never told anyone about this, not any of the guys I’ve dated or any new friends. I just don’t talk about it, so I’d prefer it if we keep things quiet for now. If the media catches wind of it, just say... I don’t know. Just say that I’ve gone to a funeral and we have no comment at this time. I guess.”

“We can do that. We’re excellent at the ‘no comment’ line,” Lana said. “And getting more expert with every passing day.”

“That’s just sad,” Rosemary said, but she felt better now she’d gotten it all out.

Harrison couldn’t get Rosemary’s worried face out of his mind. She was in DC now, dealing with everything on her own. She was grieving and worried—he’d noticed how rarely she showed what she really felt so it had to be bad. Usually she just put on a touchy exterior, said something outrageous and let everyone else blow up around her. But she didn’t do that this time. No, this time she’d crumbled.

He rubbed his eyes when he had trouble focusing on the insurance paperwork sitting in front of him.

“You okay? You look tired.” Sage entered the room carrying two hot-drink cups—the reusable kind, of course. “I had a feeling you could use this.”

She set a cup in front of him, and from the scent of it, she’d made her favorite wake-up tea blend.

“Thank you. You always know.” He took a sip and noticed it was the perfect temperature.

“You’re worried about Rosemary.” She took a sip of her own drink. “I’m worried too. Something, I don’t know. Something’s bothering me.” She twisted her necklace, making the green and blue polished rocks shimmer in the florescent lights.

He felt a tight ball form in his stomach. “You mean a
feeling
feeling, or just a general feeling?” Sage had always had precognition. She claimed she could never use it for herself, but randomly she would make very specific predictions that always came true. The general feeling thing was less reliable, but he was more likely to heed her warnings anyway.

“I’m not sure. I tried focusing on her during my meditation this morning, but I couldn’t get anything clear. It wasn’t specific like sometimes, just this feeling that she shouldn’t be out there alone.” She took a sip of her tea. “You leave for DC tomorrow. You should stop in to see her, just to check on her. For me.” She looked at him over the rim of her cup, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

The temptation to go with his sister’s suggestion was strong. He wanted to be there for Rosemary, wanted to check on her, but would she even let him in the door? “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

She watched him over the top of her cup as she took a long swallow. “Hmmm. I think it’s a very good idea. You need to start making amends with her if you’re going to get her to see you differently, you know.”

Harrison didn’t respond to that. There was no point arguing with her about his feelings. She’d always been able to read him. “I don’t know if that’s possible. Things started out bad a decade ago, and they haven’t gotten much better, even after months of working together.” He considered their chat at her house the previous night to be a fluke even though it was definitely an improvement over their usual arguments. He could see what she really was, under all of the veneer, but unless he could get her to look at him as something more than the pain in her rear, it would make no difference.

She smiled. “The whole ordeal on the ship would almost have been funny now if she didn’t hold a grudge for so long.”

“Yeah. Who knew?” He tried to smile back, but he’d never regretted anything he’d done more than he regretted the words he’d said that day. “You better get back to work.”

“Right. You, too.” Unoffended, she stood, but came around his desk and squeezed his shoulder. “See her while you’re in DC, Harrison. She needs you there.”

He watched her go and considered her suggestion, wondering if he was crazy for even thinking about it.

The funeral was the pits. Rosemary had known it would be, but she didn’t expect it to be quite so difficult. She gave Cleo a hug at the viewing, the blond girl’s face was wan, scared and sad. Rosemary thought she must be dying a little inside, trying to figure out what came next and how to go on without the people who had been everything to her. Rosemary had felt much the same way when her dad died, and she’d been an adult, grown and on her own.

Don’s brother, Mike, gave the eulogy, and Cecilia’s cousin sang. The double caskets brought the whole thing home for Rosemary. There was no viewing, thanks to the bomb blast. Rosemary was just as glad. She’d rather remember them as they had been a few weeks ago when she’d visited.

After the interment, Rosemary went back to Cecelia’s brother’s house for refreshments and talk. Cleo rode there with the neighbors she’d been staying with, but found her when she had been there less than two minutes. She latched onto Rosemary’s hand. “I don’t know many of these people,” she whispered.

“Yeah. I don’t recognize very many of them, either. Maybe we should get something to eat and sit in the corner there.” She wasn’t hungry, but hadn’t eaten anything since the airline food the previous day—her appetite was non-existent. She knew she needed to eat something, even if it was just a little bit. And Cleo would need to eat. She was too thin already.

“I’m not hungry,” Cleo said.

Like mother, like daughter. And that was a strange thought. “Just a little bit. I bet you’re hungrier than you think.”

Cleo shrugged and went along with Rosemary to fill up their plates from the fruit and veggie trays, cold cuts and cheese, bread and rolls in several varieties, and Cleo grabbed a slice of cake. They got glasses of water and found spots away from the main traffic.

“How are you doing?” Rosemary asked when they were seated.

“I miss you.” Cleo leaned slightly against Rosemary. “You used to come over all the time.”

It had been one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to take the job in Colorado. Though ‘all the time’ was a bit of an exaggeration. A couple of times a month was more accurate. Though Cecilia and Don had both kept Rosemary’s connection to the girl a secret, they had encouraged the two of them to spend time together. Rosemary had been grateful, as giving up Cleo had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Going to Europe for two years to study with master chefs had been agonizing—she’d only made three visits home the whole time. Thank goodness for email.

“My Uncle Mike doesn’t really want me. But he thinks I should live with him anyway. My other uncle says it’s because he wants my parents’ money.” She looked at Rosemary quizzically. “We weren’t rich.”

“No, sweetie, you weren’t.”
You will be now.
“But there’s often money set aside in case one of your parents dies, to protect you and take care of your needs while you’re growing up. Your uncle must think whomever takes care of you will get that money.” Don and Cecelia had been frugal, but he didn’t make more than enough for a comfortable life, and court costs for the ‘estate’ would probably eat up most of what was left.

“I don’t like Mike much. I don’t want to live with him.” Cleo’s brow furrowed and her jaw set.

So no one had seen fit to tell her the truth. Rosemary nearly did, but decided she better wait until after everyone left and she had a chance to talk to the attorney. “I don’t think that will be a problem, sweetie. Now eat some more. It’s been a crazy few days for you.”

Cleo ate, quietly, wearing her thinking face. “I miss my parents.”

Rosemary put her arm around the little girl and pressed her cheek to Cleo’s hair. “Oh, sweetie. So do I.”

People milled around. A few stopped in to say hello, talked to Cleo—or talked down to her, which was more often the case. Her uncle Mike made a show of being solicitous, but Rosemary could smell insincerity a mile away. Cleo was right about them. Rosemary could see it. She’d been through it with half a dozen of her mother’s live-in boyfriends over the years.

She was happier than ever that Don and Cecelia had thought to make her the guardian instead of either uncle.

When they met afterward for the reading of the will—a term which made Rosemary want to laugh because they couldn’t have had much besides their daughter and their home to settle—only the two brothers, Cleo and herself were in the room. Rosemary was glad she’d had the heads up about the will stipulations regarding guardianship, because finding out about their wishes in front of these people would have been disastrous.

 “I know you’re all here today because you’re concerned about Cleome’s welfare,” the attorney began.

“Cleo. Just call me Cleo,” she said in a low voice. “Cleome’s a stupid name.”

“Sorry, Cleo,” he said. “This must be a very scary time for you. But your parents wanted to make sure you had the best person to take care of you.”

“I want Rosemary.”

The room went quiet.

“But, honey,” Mike interjected. “Why would you want to live with her? She’s practically a stranger. We’re family.”

“Back less than a day and you’re already sinking your fingers into things,” the other uncle, Scott, said.

“I never talked to her about staying with me,” Rosemary objected. “But I’d love to have her if that’s what’s best for her.”

“That’s what I want. I don’t want to live with them.” Cleo pointed to both uncles in turn. “Mike doesn’t like kids and Scott treats me like a baby who is too stupid to figure anything out.”

Mike glared at Rosemary as if she were responsible for the ruination of all his hopes and dreams. He put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. “She didn’t want you before. What makes you think she wants you now? She’s probably just after the money.”

Rosemary felt all the blood drain from her face at his words. How had he known about her? She hadn’t thouht the Markhams had told anyone. “Money doesn’t matter to me.”

“Sure.” He sneered.

“We’re getting off topic here,” the attorney stated, a little exasperated. “The point is what Cleo’s parents had in mind for her.”