Hanging Pawns (The Fate Series Book 2) (14 page)

I know this since it’s the one my mother wears.

“Our duty is to preserve what the past has had to say for itself, and to say for ourselves what shall be true for the future.”

~ John Ruskin

“So, Mea. Let me take you on a tour of our home while the girls put your things in your room,” their mother says.

Taking my arm, she guides me away from the group and through the large doorway she had appeared from a minute ago. When we’re far enough away from the group, she begins to tell me all about their business and brags about their accomplishments. 

“So, Mea, why is it that you are not spending the holiday with your family?” she asks.

I could lie and tell her they are all dead. But if she is anything like my mother… and she seems to be, then when she finds out I will look like a liar. Which is worse than the truth.

“I don’t have a family,” I say for the first time since it happened.

She gives a thoughtful hum, walking us through the dining room, which is a deep maroon and trimmed in gold. A large gold chandelier hangs in the center of the table where ornaments dangle on strings to resemble a tree. The rich mahogany table that sits under it looks like it can fit up to twenty guests, a long red and gold runner is centered on the table and crystal vases filled with Christmas flowers sit spaced out on top of it. The matching mahogany chairs are fitted with the thickest padding I have ever seen but they look as though they are here for comfort more than design which confuses me, since she appears to be more about design than comfort.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she says with no hint of sorrow in her voice.

Walking through the room, we enter a sitting room that looks to be where they relax after a meal. The floor-to ceiling windows give the most spectacular view of the city, and they are surrounded by thick drapes that are tied back with golden ropes. On every window, wide garland with lights are strung over the tops and draped down the sides. The dark brown leather couches in here also look like they are here for comfort, since they too have thick padding all over them.

She closes the door behind us and walks around the room. Her arms cross over her chest as she studies me.

“Do I look like a stupid woman?” she asks catching me off guard.

My heart drops to my stomach.

“N—no, you do not,” I stutter, my hands beginning to shake with fear.

She stares at me for a moment then makes her way over to a small glass topped mini bar where she takes a large crystal top off a decanter and begins to pour what looks like whiskey into a beautiful cut crystal glass. Motioning the bottle toward me, I shake my head since I am still not sure what is happening. 

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that you are stupid,” I try again.

Turning her head toward me, she glares at me again for a brief second before pointing toward a couch where she wants me to sit.

She watches me carefully as we sit down. “Ms. Andrews, you do not exist, I would like an explanation as to why,” she states in a flat, cutthroat tone.

“I don’t follow,” I respond, trying to remain calm.

“Interesting.” She nods as she takes a thoughtful sip of her drink.

“You tell my daughters your name is Mea Andrews, and yet the woman I see before me is very clearly Charlotte Carmichael.” She watches my panicked breaths.

The sweat that builds on my forehead.

“I…” I begin to speak, and her hand comes up to silence me.

“Did you not think I wouldn’t recognize you? That face, your mother’s face… did you think I wouldn’t see right through the colored contacts you have started to wear, the hair color you have changed to? Your face, that face, is undeniable,” she says, taking another sip of her drink.

My mind unravels as all thought leaves me.

With a raised eyebrow, she places her glass on the mahogany coffee table in front of us.

“Do you like games?” she asks.

“I’m not sure,” I blurt out before I can think of anything else to say.

With a stifled laugh, she stands up and walks over to a large desk that is by the tall windows. Pulling out a deck of cards she makes her way back over to the couch and sits down.

“We are going to play higher or lower. Whoever gets the higher card wins and gets to ask one question.” She smiles, shuffling the deck.

This is where the girls get it from.

Placing the deck on the table, she lets me lift first, and I pick a five of hearts. With another short nod, she lifts a few cards and pulls out a Queen of spades.

“Seems fitting since I am the queen of the house,” she says placing the cards on the bottom of the deck.

“Now then. Are you or are you not Charlotte Carmichael?” she asks bluntly as she takes the cards from my still stunned hand.

“I… well… no… I am no longer her.” My head automatically lowers as I feel the tears begin to build. “I was disowned… or divorced? I guess it’s the same thing.” Closing my eyes, I will them not to fall as she clears her throat.

“You may pick again,” she says.

I lean forward, lifting a Jack and notice that she has already taken hers which is a two of clubs.

“Your turn,” she sighs, taking the cards to shuffle the deck.

Without a hesitation I ask my question.

“Are you going to tell anyone who I was?” I say, my voice barely audible. 

Holding my breath, I wait for her as she considers it for a minute before she starts to speak.

“That is a difficult question. But the answer is no.”

Relief fills me.

“Can I ask why?” I blurt out.

“That will make two questions. For the sake of not dragging this out, I will just answer. Here is where we exchange secrets.” She stands up and walks back to the mini bar. A few seconds later she returns with two glasses of what looks like Baileys. I know this from Morgan and Molly. Sometimes they drink it when they had a stressful day.

“Last June my daughter, my youngest daughter, Sidney—you have heard of her, yes?” she asks. I nod, too frightened to speak.

My mind wanders back to last June.

“She was involved in a car accident. Interesting since that is the exact way her aunt died.” She takes a moment before continuing. My heart pounds to a dread filled beat. “This time however, a car, the car that was thought to have caused the entire wreck, was actually the one that knocked her out of the way of the other car. Can you guess who was driving the car that struck Simon’s side and saved Sidney’s life?” She looks up at me.

It all snaps into place.

I close my eyes, remembering that night. “He screamed so loud but I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was so young and her head…” I cover my mouth when I realize I’m speaking out loud.

“It’s okay, continue, please,” she urges me.

I exhale, “That’s why he recognized me when he met me.” I open my eyes to look at her. “Because Simon saw me, but I never saw him. One of my mother’s friends was there and the last thing I remember was him coming over to me. His name was Price… James Price.” I nod, confessing everything I can think of.  “Mrs. Chandler, I swear, despite what the news said I was not drinking and driving.” I stand up, backing away. “I don’t know what happened. I lost control of the car. I don’t drink and drive. And I had no idea who they were, I was never told. I just knew they survived.” I begin to panic. 

“Oh dear girl, I know that. People have a way of bending the truth when they don’t want things to be found out.” She looks at me.  “Therefore, I will bend yours. I will not tell anyone who you are, and you will not tell anyone who you are,” she smirks. “To Mea Andrews, may your life after divorce bring you years of happiness.” She smiles, this time sincere, as she clicks my glass.

“It’s a madness kind of day,” I mutter.

“I beg your pardon?” Her eyes widen.

“I… it’s an expression your daughters say when they drink Baileys.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what it means but it sounds good.” I laugh.

I may have been wrong about her.

“Oh, do they now…” Her finger taps the glass. “By the way, you can call me Madness, everyone else does.” She wrinkles her nose in amusement and stands up.

The room spins a little.

Oh.

“The look on your face is priceless.” She laughs, taking my glass.

“I suppose it all makes sense now, ‘always fear the Madness’.” I give a small laugh. “I thought they meant the Baileys.”

“It does, and you should, it’s a sign that something unfortunate is about to happen or be said. That’s why I drink it whenever my mother is around. Foul mouth on that woman, always with the sex. I drink to erase what she says. It’s cheaper than therapy and no one judges you. Now, let’s go get something to eat before those dreadful children eat it all.” She leads us back out to the family sitting room where they are all gathered around shoveling food in their mouths like they have never seen it before.

“You know what I have always wondered?” I ask her before we get close enough for anyone else to hear.

She hums a response.

“Why was Mr. Price the first one there?” I look at her.

“Because he was told to be,” she informs me. “Now, don’t worry your head about that anymore. It’s in the past, and we are all working to move on.” She pats my shoulder and walks away.

Why would he be told to be there?

This room is the most relaxed room in the house, it sits hidden, tucked away in the back part where it’s as if only they know about it. The furniture is very average living room furniture and the large TV in the room adds to how normal but out of place the room is.

Making my way over to a long table that has every kind of food on it, I grab a plate and stand behind Grams.

“I am sorry if it takes me so long to walk. I keep telling them to get me a scooter but they don’t listen,” she says with a huff.

“Grams, your legs are fine! You are not getting one of those things,” Molly scoffs. “Our luck, you’ll use it to run us over when we piss you off… and my feet just can’t take that kind of abuse,” she retorts, sending Grams a look.

Looking up at me, she rolls her eyes and continues to take food. “She isn’t wrong,” she mutters to me.

I press my lips together to conceal a smile.

“You don’t know what my legs feel like. Why don’t you bring that skinny ass over here and carry your poor grandmother back to her seat,” she yells at Molly.

I attempt to hold in a laugh at their interaction. I’ve never seen a family act this way.

“Grams, would you like me to help you?” Simon smiles, walking over to her.

“What and risk getting felt up? Not on your life, Player.” She swats at him, bringing the entire room to laughter.

“I can help you.” I grin at her as Simon walks away mumbling to himself.

“Watch it with the boy, he has wandering hands.” She shakes her head at me as she takes my arm.

The statement makes me laugh again. We take our seats with everyone else, and she sits down with an over exaggerated exhale.

“I could use some wine, Morgan. Get your poor grandmother a glass, would you?” she pleads with Morgan.

“Why is Sidney, Lovey, and I’m Morgan?” She stands to get the glass of wine.

“Oh, I will tell you when you come back, I’m out of breath.” Grams waves at her.

Morgan brings the glass back over and sets it down. “Well?” She looks at Grams who is drinking the wine like it’s water.

She places the almost empty glass down and smiles. “Because she is my favorite.” She hiccups and begins to eat.

“Really Morgan… even I knew that one.” Molly shakes her head.

“Oh I knew… I just wanted to hear the words come from her mouth.” Morgan tries to act upset but smiles at Grams who winks at her.

“Speaking of Sidney, when is she coming?” Molly asks between bites.

On cue, Simon perks up at the mere mention of her name.

So obvious…

“She will not be able to get over here until Christmas morning,” their mother says.

“What, why? What is so important that she can’t spend a few days with her family?” Molly snaps.

I look at Morgan who, by the expression on her face, must have already known Sidney isn’t coming.

“She and Lexi were asked to fill in for two makeup artists who were going home for the holiday. It’s a big break for them, and I told her to take any opportunity that came her way. She also is not attending the Gala this year since it conflicts with her schedule,” Madness says.

Simon’s excitement falls, and his fork begins to play with the food on his plate.

I am willing to guess he was going to try and apologize at the Gala.

“Our parents gave us their tickets in addition to ours so we have enough for Mea and Josh to attend,” Dean adds.

Madness and I exchange a look. We both know I won’t be going.

“Okay, then. Well, I know I don’t have to go over the rules of being out in public.” Madness smiles at all of us.

“Yes, we know, we know,” the five of them mumble.

Turning her head, she looks at her brothers.

“What? Why are you looking at us?” one of them tosses his hands into the air.