Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) (22 page)

Griff’s words came back to her now.
Lady’s choice
.

Priscilla trembled as she sat beside Charlie and Alex in the back of the town car later that night. Edward drove and Dolly sat up front. “What’s this all about?” she wondered out loud. “What is Griff up to, asking all of us to come to his house?” When he called and asked her at work earlier, she’d been too stunned to think. Now questions tumbled in her mind as her heart stuck in her throat.

She hadn’t planned to go back there, to his house, to the house she’d poured her heart and soul into. He wasn’t the only one who’d been transformed. She had—by making each little decision on the decor, selecting each piece with him in mind, finding just the right item for his taste, taking risks, gaining confidence, and earning her right to be a King.

Never before had she had that much freedom to do as she pleased, follow her dreams. He’d done that for her. Given her a blank canvas and told her to soar. His Pixie, he called her. She smiled at that thought.

“Francie and Marcus are meeting us there,” Charlie said, patting her hand.

“Family meeting,” Alex said. “I’m sure he has the best intentions…now.”

That statement sat heavy on her. “I think he always did,” she said softly. “At least when it came to us, Daddy’s girls.”

“I can’t imagine a young child going through what he did and not being damaged,” Charlie said. “My heart aches for that little boy.” She blinked back tears. “Maybe it’s because I’m going to become a mother, and I can’t stand the thought of my babies in that same situation.”

Alex put his arm around her shoulder and drew her near. “The things he must have gone through. At least I had my grandparents when my parents died.”

“His daddy was such a good man, too,” Dolly piped up.

“You knew him?” Priscilla asked, stunned.

“Oh, sure, honey. He was a regular at the house. He was your daddy’s lawyer, but, more so his friend. We’d play poker together sometimes.”

“And you won, right?” Edward asked, glancing at her with a big smile.

“Don’t you know it!” She chuckled.

“What was he like?” Priscilla wanted to hear an outsiders’ perspective.

“The best. A lot like your daddy. Quiet, easygoing, big guy, too. But he had a shyness about him, while Mr. K. was the people person. I should have spotted the likeness in Mr. G. when I met him, ’cause him and his daddy have those same eyes. But, Big Jim, his gray eyes were always dancing with a smile. The least I coulda done was figure it out when I made that surprise dinner for you, honey. Mr. G. and I got to talking about the old days…” She trailed off.

“What?” Edward asked, now frowning.

“You know, this and that—a will here, a will there.” Her voice betrayed her nerves, but Edward’s sharp look asked her unspoken questions.

“We’re here,” he announced, pulling into the driveway.

Priscilla’s middle did flip-flops as she got out of the car. She waited for the rest of her family to join her before she walked to the front entrance.

“Oh, my, this is so pretty,” Dolly said. “I like those flowers you picked, Prissy. Colorful.”

She forced a smile. Ringing the doorbell felt foreign to her since over the last weeks she came and went as she pleased.

When he opened the door, she began to doubt the saneness of this meeting. His gaze, hot and searing, made her tremble. An ache shot through her.

He ushered them in without a word.

Dolly and Charlie oohed and ahhed over the decor. “Prissy, this looks even better than the pictures,” Charlie said.

The men shook hands, easing right back into that old familiar men talk.

Dolly took charge of the coats, hanging them up on the nearby coat rack. Then she asked if she could do anything, make coffee or refreshments.

“All done.” He nodded to the living room.

When Priscilla stepped into the room, memories flooded back to her. The hard work of putting it all together took a back seat to the look on his face when he’d first seen it. Automatically, her gaze went to his. He held it. Her breath caught in her lungs. He could still make her feel things, want things.

A few minutes later, Marcus and Francie arrived, with goodies from his pub and grill. He made himself at home and set it out beside the coffee and tea Griffin had already placed on the coffee table. Marcus and Dolly took over, handing out food and drinks.

Griffin waved off any. He remained standing and waited for everyone to settle in. Priscilla clutched her mug of steaming tea. In the back of her mind, she recalled her yellow smiley mug stashed in the cupboard. A slice of pain stabbed her at the thought of never sitting across from him and using it again.

“Thank you all for coming tonight.” He glanced at each one of them. “First, I owe you all an apology for what I did. Somehow that got lost in the meeting I had with the King daughters the other morning. I am sorry, truly sorry, for any pain I caused you.” His regret was palpable. His gaze landed on Priscilla. “Especially you, Pixie.”

The use of her nickname tugged at her heart.

“I had tunnel vision when it came to Agnes King, and I forgot, for a very long time, that other people would unknowingly suffer at my hands.” He went to a nearby table and picked up something. “I wanted vindication for my father. I realized I’d only cause more misery to innocent people. I couldn’t do what had been done to me.”

His sincerity gripped Priscilla. Transfixed, she gulped as his humble apology sank in. It had cost him dearly, she realized, for him to give up his quest. How could he exonerate his father now? Why did she still care after all he’d done to her and her family?

“Charlie,” he continued, “I hope you believe me when I say, I had no intention of going into your desk yesterday afternoon. I left blueprints and reports from the women’s department remodel—”

“Yes, I got those this morning. They were on top of my desk,” she confirmed.

“I looked for a sticky note. I tried your top drawer.”

“That thing’s been stuck for years. I can’t get it all the way open.”

“I did.”

His words dropped into the room.

“There’s a metal latch on each side in the very back, holding closed secret compartments. I found these there. I haven’t opened them. It’s not for me to do so. This one, the biggest and bulkiest, is addressed to you, Charlie. Francine, this is yours. And Priscilla, you have one, too.”

Putting down her mug, Priscilla’s hands shook when he handed her the envelope.

“It’s Daddy’s handwriting. I’d know it anywhere,” Charlie said, awe coloring her words.

Priscilla turned it over in her hands. Light, yet an outline of something inside poked out the shape of it, she couldn’t imagine what her late stepfather left for only her. “Open yours first,” she told Charlie.

“No, you and Francie first,” Edward chimed in.

Jerking her head up, Priscilla witnessed a silent exchange between Edward and Griffin. A fusion of fear nagged her. She didn’t know what she’d uncover, but she took a deep breath and peeled away the seal. A yellowing slip of paper and a King’s jewelry box lay inside. She pulled out the paper first, unfolded it and found tears clouding her eyes as she saw her late stepfather’s handwriting sprawled across the page.

“He knew he was dying,” she whispered. “He wanted me to know I was his daughter as much as Charlie was. No matter what happened to me in life, by leaving me this, he wanted me to know I was loved. I was a King. At the bottom he wrote, follow your dreams; it will always lead you to your heart.” Gingerly, she put aside his note, wiped her eyes with a napkin, and then pulled out the lavender box with King’s logo of a crown on it. She lifted the lid, gasping at the charm bracelet: a miniature crown—the King logo charm—lay beside a heart, with an emerald stone in the center of it, dangling from the chain. Picking it up, she turned it over and read the inscription. “
For my baby girl
. It’s beautiful.”

Francie opened hers; the note said almost the same thing. Her jewelry box contained an identical bracelet with the King crown charm; the only difference was a sapphire stone sat in the center of her heart. She read her inscription. “
For my blue-eyed girl
. That’s what he always called me,” Francie said, laughing and crying at the same time.

“I’m afraid to look,” Charlie admitted, hugging the envelope to her.

“You don’t have to,” Griffin said.

Priscilla gazed at him, wondering if he suspected something. But wouldn’t Charlie opening the envelope benefit his cause? There had been secrets hidden away, obviously from her mother. That could be the only answer. Why would Griff want to stop Charlie then? He returned her stare, his stormy gray eyes haunted. He hurt, deeply and painfully, by what he did.

She gasped, stunned by the raw emotion he allowed her to see. Her heart tumbled. Everything he’d written on her blog this morning touched a place deep inside her by his show of vulnerability; however, seeing the scope and breadth of it in person shook her to her core.

The sound of Charlie unsealing the envelope dragged Priscilla’s attention away from her husband and to her stepsister.

“There’s a note, too,” Charlie said. She skimmed it, chuckling. “Princess, that’s what he called me. My little Princess. He hoped I knew how much he loved me, how much I reminded him of my mother and her gentle, loving ways. He’d hoped one day I would understand the difficult decisions he’d made by marrying another woman. He wanted me to have a family again.” She sucked in a breath, and then dug into the envelope, pulling out a square box. She flipped it open. “My mother’s rings.” The diamonds sparkled. “He kept them for me.”

“That’s them,” Dolly said, leaning over to admire the set. “I always wondered what became of them. I just thought the Barracuda had them in the safe.”

“There’s more,” Charlie said, handing the rings to Alex and diving back into the envelope. She pulled out a thick folded document.

Again Priscilla noticed Edward catching Griffin’s stare. Their unspoken communication could only mean one thing. There was something there, maybe even incriminating. But for who?

“I don’t understand,” Charlie said. “It’s his will…”

“Let me see, honey.” Dolly got up, nudged Alex aside. “Trade seats with me, Mr. R.” He did as instructed. She plopped down beside Charlie. Dolly flipped through until she got to the last page. “I knew it! Signed on my birthday. I told you, Mr. G. —there was another will.”

“Another will?” Priscilla asked, looking at Griff as memories flooded back. “That’s why you had that document drawn up stating you didn’t want any part of King’s or my possible future inheritance. You knew.”

“My father knew. No one believed him.” His short, to the point answer said little, but Priscilla read between the lines.

“The accusations.” It wasn’t a question. All this time, he’d pursued the truth and no one would listen. Not even her.

“What does it say?” Alex asked. Charlie handed it to him, her hand shaking. He skipped the opening standard language and got to the meat of the document. “He leaves King’s Department Store to Charlie…” He glanced up quickly to his wife.

“No, he left it to Stepmother,” Charlie said.

“In trust,” he continued, “until you reach the age of twenty-one. Also, a trust fund of millions.”

“But Mother said, you didn’t have a trust fund,” Francie said in stunned wonder.

“He leaves the house to both Francie and Prissy, so they always know they have a home. Both of you have trusts worth millions, too, to be distributed when you reach twenty-one.” Alex continued reading half out loud and half to himself. “Dolly receives a sizeable pension for all her devotion to the King family over the years.”

“Why, I ain’t got squat from you-know-who. I knew he’d never forget me.” Dolly sniffed back tears.

“His second wife, Agnes, shall receive the grand sum of two million dollars, to live out her life. She will no longer stay employed at King’s or have anything to do with the running or decision making of King’s from this time forward.”

“What?” Priscilla asked. “He kicked Mother to the curb? Even back then? And he put her on a budget.” Dawning hit. She swung her gaze to Griffin. “Daddy wanted her out of the store. He suspected something.”

“Maybe he realized she wasn’t such a people person,” Marcus chimed in, holding Francie’s hand.

“He bequeaths his personal items here in detail. His heartfelt appreciation to King’s employees,” Alex murmured.

Charlie sighed heavily, apparently drained.

“There’s more. And—” Alex stopped short, glancing at Griffin, and then back at the document. “James Weatherford, my dearest friend and attorney, shall be the executor of my estate and the head of the trust fund for both King’s and my daughters’ trust funds. In my stead, I leave him the great task of watching over my precious daughters. Of course, he refuses any compensation for himself or his heirs for conducting this business and following my wishes for many years to come. His loyal friendship and devotion to the King family will be forever remembered with undying gratitude. Everyone should be as lucky as I am to have such a remarkable friend.”

Priscilla watched Griffin’s face; it was stony and remote. But emotions, raw and churning, chased across his gray eyes. “Mother,” she gulped hard, “did destroy him because of this. Because she would be kicked out while he had all the control. Over the store. Over the money.” Griffin had been right all along. Her mother had ruined his father and his reputation. If she were Griff, Priscilla knew she’d carry hatred in her heart, too.

She ached for him, but he turned away, shutting her out again.

How could she help him when everything in her world, everything she’d been led to believe, had just been turned upside down?

Griffin did what he thought once was impossible. Getting out of the Vette, he trailed her to the neighborhood park. The dog sensed him before she did. The white, fluffy mutt strained against the leash, trying to come to him.

“Stop that,” Mrs. King scolded the dog, and then she reared back at the sight of Griffin. “You! Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?”