Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Jack had never been a fan of sneaking around and secrets, likely because they formed the scaffolding of Genevieve’s life. “I’m not hiding behind some bush to eavesdrop on Prescott Buchanan. That would imply I give a shit about what he has to say, and I don’t.”

“Maybe so,” Maisie argued, “but I could tell Dottie has a reason for wanting you there. She may be a little eccentric, but there’s always some method to her madness.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “I think you have this picture in your head of us ducking beneath bushes like someone’s nosy neighbor. There’s actually a bar behind the greenery. Besides, I owe you a drink.”

“We’re supposed to be on the brewery tour you planned, which technically qualifies as you giving me a drink.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious why Dottie wants us to come?”

She clearly was. It was hard to deny her when she looked at him like that, her emerald eyes sparkling, her mouth twisting with barely contained mischief. And, truth be told, he was a little curious too. Dottie had been with Beau Buchanan for decades. Who knew what kind of dirt she had on Prescott. A small part of Jack, inherited perhaps from Genevieve and Prescott, longed for the power to put Prescott in his place. In the end, though, he didn’t agree because Maisie looked especially sexy when she was up to no good, or because he wanted to ruin his father. He agreed because Prescott was determined to break up Georgie’s engagement. If Jack found some dirt on him, he could hold it over his head to get him to leave Georgie and River alone—and Adalia and Finn for good measure.

They got dressed, and he let Tyrion out to pee before he put the pouting dog in his kennel.

“Hey,” Jack said as he latched the door and then handed the dog a chew stick through the slats, “if I had my way, I’d be home with you all night. But you can’t always get what you want.”

Tyrion took the stick and seemed to forget his unhappiness, but Jack’s disquiet didn’t release its hold so easily. This thing with Maisie was new and exciting, but it still felt fragile. He wanted to let it evolve without bringing his messy family business into it. Then again, his messy family business was part of him. There was no escaping or hiding from it.

When he returned to the living room, she was standing beside the tree, smiling at an ornament Iris had ordered from one of those photo printing websites. It showed a shirtless Jack holding Ruby.

“Can I get one of those?” she asked, turning to him.

He pulled her into his arms. “Why settle for the picture when you can have the real thing?” He kissed her, slow and lazy, taking the time to do it thoroughly, while he pulled her body flush with his. “We don’t have to leave,” he said. “There are dozens of other locations in this house besides the back of the front door.”

“While I’d like to explore all of them with you,” she said breathlessly, brushing her fingertips along his cheek, “we can’t stay here anyway. The ladies are having a slumber party. We’re lucky they didn’t walk in on us while we were sprawled out on the sofa.”

“Then we can just go over to your place.”

Her mouth twisted to one side, and for a moment he thought he had her, but she said, “Later. After we join the rest of the brewery tour.”

“You still want to do that?” he asked, surprised.

“Kind of?” She shrugged, then pulled back and grabbed her jacket off the chair where she’d tossed it. “I did plan it with Finn, plus I don’t want to completely bail on River. What if Lee goes off on him?”

Jack pushed out a sigh. She was right, and he felt like a heel for suggesting they skip it.

“Well, as long as you don’t comfort him like you just comforted me, we’ll be okay,” he teased.

Her eyes widened slightly. She started to say something, but her phone rang. Grimacing, she pulled it out of her jeans pocket.

“It’s Dottie.” She answered the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “Yes, we’re coming. We were just about to leave.” She bent down and picked her purse up off the floor. “Okay. We’ll hurry.” She hung up and snagged Jack’s wrist, pulling him toward the door.

They went in her car, leaving his Prius in the driveway. They were both quiet in the car, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Jack didn’t want to sit in the same room as Prescott, let alone listen to him talk. He’d prefer to go back to a time when his father was nothing but a bad memory.

Maisie finally broke the silence. “Dottie said dinner was going faster than she’d planned. She escaped to the bathroom to make the call, but they’ve almost finished eating.”

“So they had an entire dinner without discussing whatever she wanted to talk about?”

“She said she wanted to enjoy her meal first.”

What could Dottie have to discuss with Prescott that would ruin her meal? She had to be the most patient, understanding, and forgiving person he knew.

Maisie got lucky and found street parking a half block from the restaurant and practically jumped out of the car.

“Come on, Jack!” she said, snagging his hand and sweeping him along toward the entrance. He matched her pace even though it went against his every instinct. He told himself he was doing it for her.

She rushed past the hostess and took him straight to the bar, claiming a high-top table next to a wall of fake greenery. He went for one of the chairs, but she steered him into the other.

A waitress came over to take their orders, and Maisie leaned in to give her drink order in a near whisper.

“Lemon drop martini for me, and…?” She raised an eyebrow to Jack.

“Bourbon. Two fingers. Neat.”

The waitress nodded and turned away, while Maisie leaned her ear closer to the plant wall. It would have been adorable if he weren’t acutely aware his father sat on the other side.

“How do you know we’re at the right table?” Jack asked in a lowered voice.

“Because Dottie told me where to sit,” she answered as she tapped her phone a few times, then set it facedown on the table.

Of course she’d planned it down to the table where she wanted them to sit. Maisie had probably texted Dottie that they were in position and ready.

Sure enough, Jack heard Dottie’s voice clearly on the other side of the bush ‘wall.’ “Prescott, I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you to dinner this evening.”

“Are you senile ?” Prescott replied in an arrogant tone. “I’ve asked this exact question about ten times over the course of the last half hour.”

His voice was louder than hers. And sure, he’d probably spoken louder, but from the crisp quality of the sound, Prescott was directly next to him, their seats separated by just the plant. Maisie had pushed him into this chair, which meant Dottie had even planned the seating .

“And as I told you, good things come to those who wait,” Dottie said cheerfully.

“So something good will come from this?” he asked. “What could you possibly give me ?”

“Peace of mind,” Dottie said in her soothing voice. “The knowledge that your eldest daughter will be marrying a good man. A man who loves her to the moon and back.”

“A man who just happens to be your great-nephew,” he sneered. “You’re both after my money.”

It sounded like Dottie blew a raspberry. “I don’t want your money, and River certainly doesn’t either. He wants to make a life with the woman he loves. Love makes a person rich, Prescott, not money, but you never have understood that.”

“You’re a fine one to talk. You stuck to my father for decades, hoping he’d cave and finally marry you. You were after his money. My father had many faults, but he was sharp as a tack. He saw you as a gold digger and strung you along, hoping to appease you without marriage.”

Dottie let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, Prescott,” she said while trying to catch her breath. “That was quite a story for such a droll, unimaginative man.”

“You think this is funny ?” he asked in a tone that probably made his subordinates quiver in their overpriced Italian shoes, but Dottie only laughed again.

“Some parts are humorous, and others are tragic. I still don’t understand how the Buchanan good humor passed you by and went straight to your children. Your father was always such fun.”

“My daughters might be flighty like their mother, but Lee is exactly like me.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” she said, her amusement fading. “Lee just needs a chance to breathe.” She paused, then said, “And Jack…he’s a good man too. Your father tried to push you to have a relationship with your son, but I told Beau it would never work. Especially not with the strings he attached. You’re not the kind of man who likes being forced to do anything, even visit your own child.”

Beau was the one who’d made Prescott come visit him? That meant Beau had been aware of his existence for far longer than he’d realized.

“I told Beau you had to want it,” Dottie continued. “That all you’d do was hurt the poor boy, but he was so insistent. It was one of the few things we disagreed over.”

“There were only a few?” he asked in a snide tone.

“Believe it or not, Prescott, your father asked me to marry him many times. I was the one who always turned him down. I needed my independence.”

“That, and his money was gone.”

“Funny, he asked me while he still had it,” she said. “He couldn’t bear to ask me again after he gave you money the last time. That was most of what he had left.”

Maisie’s eyes widened and her gaze pinned Jack. He was just as stunned. Beau had given Prescott most of his money?

“You like to call yourself a self-made man,” she said with a hint of judgment, which was more than Jack had ever heard her use, “but I know where you got the money to kick your commercial real estate venture off the ground. You broke your father’s heart when you stole your mother’s heirloom jewelry.”

“She wanted me to have it,” he countered.

“To hand it down to your children,” she said in a stern tone. “Not to hawk at a pawn shop.”

“I didn’t take it to a pawn shop. I sold it to an antiquities house that deals with fine jewelry.”

“Same difference. Whether they lay in a smudged glass case or on a bed of fine velvet, you sold the things your mother held dear. The pieces she hoped you’d give to your future daughters one day.”

“I did give it to Georgie and Adalia in a way,” he said in a pompous tone. “I invested it into a successful business.”

“A business you purposely kept your daughters out of, although you actually did them a favor with that decision,” Dottie said. “And if your business is so successful, why did you go to your father on several occasions, asking for money?”

He hesitated. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

“Like fraud and misappropriation of funds?” she asked in a direct tone.

Maisie’s mouth dropped open, and Jack’s heart started hammering in his chest. His father had committed fraud?

Prescott was quiet for several seconds, then said in a tight voice, “Mistakes were made.”

“Yes,” she said. “That we can agree upon. Mistakes were made all the way around. I told Beau not to give you money the first time, when you and your partner were at risk of being indicted, but he couldn’t bear the thought of your children living without you.” Her voice broke. “Even then, he hoped you’d be a better father to your children than he had been to you when you were young, but you turned out to be much worse.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Prescott said in a controlled voice.

“I know more than you realize.” She paused. “Did you know that Laura kept in contact with Beau?”

Prescott remained silent.

“They corresponded quite often,” Dottie said in a loving tone. “She told him about the children and their activities. She knew that Beau desperately wanted to be part of their lives. It broke her heart that you forbade it.”

“My father was not a good person.”

“Your father had many faults, just like the rest of us. And yes, he was far too absent in your early years while he was setting up his business. When you left, he realized he’d taught you the wrong lessons. Not that hard work reaps great rewards, but that success matters more than family. He knew why you went into commercial real estate. You were looking at the dollar signs.”

“There’s nothing wrong with making a good living.”

“There is if it’s at the expense of your relationships with the people you love.” Her voice turned sterner. “There is if you do it at the expense of other people.”

“You’re talking about the deal that went wrong,” he said in disgust. “Those people knew there were risks.”

“I was speaking of your children , Prescott. Especially Jack. That poor boy was saddled with a conniving mother and a bitter, resentful father. But yes, let’s address the fraud charges you so narrowly escaped.”

Maisie reached across the tabletop and snagged Jack’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“It was all that woman’s fault,” Prescott sneered.

“Yes, Genevieve was instrumental in that first escapade, but you were a grown man, Prescott. With two young children and an adoring wife.”

Another squeeze from Maisie.

His mother had been in on the fraud? He knew it should surprise him, but it didn’t. She was always looking for what she thought was the easy way out.

Prescott grunted. “I had two noisy toddlers and a wife who thought I was perfect. I had to provide for them, so I did what I could.”

“Laura only wanted you to love her, Prescott,” Dottie said quietly. “I read the letters she wrote to Beau. You broke her heart.”

“I was never going to be good enough for her,” he jeered.

“No,” Dottie said, her voice dripping with disappointment. “You never were, only not in the way you think. She didn’t want all the money you’d promised her when you married her. She only wanted the good man she saw beneath the bluster. That was the man she married.”

Disgust filled Prescott’s words. “I am no longer that fool.”

“No,” Dottie said, her voice breaking. “It’s obvious that man is dead. Beau saw it too, and it broke his heart. That was why he didn’t give you a thing. He’d already given you practically everything he had, and it was never enough. So whatever he had left went to his grandchildren. He hoped it would help lead them to the truth.”

“The truth?” he scoffed. “What truth?”

“That love is the most important thing in the world. More important than money and material things. He discovered that at the brewery, and he hoped his grandchildren would find their place there too.”

“The brewery is a waste of time and resources. It would have been far better to sell it.”

“Better for you when you thought you were inheriting it,” Dottie said, her voice cold. “I know you need the money.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“I’m not a fool, Prescott. I know your business is in trouble. Again.”

“Did your crystals and your tarot cards tell you that?”

“No,” she said, “but a private investigator did.” She took a breath. “You’re up to your old tricks again, Prescott. Even down to using a young woman to help you commit fraud.”

Jack’s head was spinning, and every word Dottie said had it spinning faster. Dottie had hired a private investigator? Prescott was committing fraud?

Was Lee part of it too?

“You’re bluffing,” Prescott said, his tone equally icy, but Jack was sure he heard a tremor in his voice.

“Am I? I have photos.” She paused. “Do these help prove my point?”

Maisie removed her hand from Jack’s and leaned closer to the wall of greenery, peeking through an opening. She turned to Jack and mouthed, She really has photos.

Against his better judgment, Jack peered through a crack in the foliage and saw Prescott pick up several 8x10 photos from the table. He released a growl and ripped them in two, tossing them back down. “This only proves I’m sleeping with her. It doesn’t prove anything else.”

“Oh, Prescott,” Dottie said, sounding close to tears. “Don’t you see how far you’ve fallen if you think breaking your son’s heart is a lighter offense than cheating people out of money?”

“According to the law it is.”

Prescott was sleeping with Victoria?

Maisie’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly recovered and made a retching face. Jack couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t officially been introduced to the woman yet, but he knew enough about her to think Prescott deserved her more than Lee did. And that was saying something.

“You never learn,” Dottie said, her sternness returning. “I let this go because I’d hoped your father’s death would teach you the importance of family. Of love. But one of those photos you destroyed was from just last week. You’ve learned nothing , and it seems you’re dead set on crushing the one child who has worshiped you since he could walk.”

“What do you want?” Prescott asked. “Money?” He reached into his suit coat pocket and withdrew a checkbook. “I’m prepared to write you a check right now.”

Dottie released a bitter laugh. “There you go again, thinking money can buy happiness. I don’t want a penny of yours, even if I thought the check would actually clear. The only thing I want is for you to do the right thing. Give Lee his freedom.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it does,” she said softly.

They stared at each other for several long seconds. Then he scooted his chair back, loudly scraping the floor. “We’re done here.”

“You and I are done when you make this right,” she said, staring up at him as he stood. “I’ll give you until the new year to come clean to your children, and if you don’t, I’ll take what I know to the proper authorities.”

He glared at her with so much hate, it was a wonder she didn’t turn into a puddle of goo. But Dottie was made of sterner stuff than that. Instead of shooting daggers of hate, her eyes were full of pity. “For once in your life, do the right thing, Prescott. Don’t bring Lee down with you.”

Jack’s heart beat faster again. Lee was in trouble, and against his better judgment, he wanted to help him.