Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

When he’d left Brandywood almost two weeks earlier, Jason hadn’t ever expected to be driving back here so soon—especially not on Christmas. Yet here he was, turning off the highway exit onto the road that led to the small town.

He’d never gone back home the previous night. After he’d left Amanda’s, he’d gone to his grandfather’s house. Spent some time in the attic, poking around his mother’s old things. Then he’d packed up his car with a few dust-covered crates he’d trekked down from the attic and driven through the night to get here. He’d stopped at a couple of rest stops to get some sleep when he felt too tired to continue, but he was mostly fueled on caffeine and adrenaline.

The streets and houses that had once seemed so foreign to him came into view. If he turned in about a mile, he’d only be a few turns away from the Kleins’ house. At this time of morning, he imagined Jen opening Christmas presents with Colby.

As much as he wanted to text her, he wasn’t here for that. And he wasn’t going to disrupt her life.

But he was determined not to spend Christmas Day completely alone without family, either.

Within minutes, he’d pulled up in front of Mildred’s dilapidated house. The split-level home wasn’t ugly—just old and devoid of upkeep. Maybe he’d stretch his visit next time to address some issues. He didn’t know a damned thing about home improvement, but Mildred didn’t seem to like the suggestion that he’d hire people to help. He’d learned a long time ago that anything he wanted to learn to do, he could learn from watching videos online or reading—even if he didn’t do it perfectly.

He popped the trunk and swung around to the back of his car. Grabbing the crates, he lifted them. The canvas sheet that covered them flapped in the cold breeze.

He made his way to the front of the house and rang the bell.

No one answered.

He rang it again and...still nothing. At last, he tried the doorknob. It opened. Didn’t Mildred lock the door?

“Hello?” Jason’s deep voice echoed against the large face of the wall over the steps that led to the lower level. He slipped inside, using his foot to edge the door closed. What if something had happened to her? She wasn’t young, by any means, and she lived alone.

Setting the crates down by the top of the steps, he looked around. Not a single Christmas decoration.

“Mildred?” he called out.

At last, he heard a soft voice call, “Back here.”

He moved down the hallway. At the end, on the right, a closed door led to the small master bedroom. Jason opened it. Mildred was sitting on the edge of her bed, zipping up a long blue robe. She gave him a surprised look. “What are you doing here?”

His relief at seeing her was greater than he’d expected. “Were you still asleep?”

She rubbed the sleep out of the inside corners of her eyes. “Yes, sir.” Clearing her throat, she stood. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “I wasn’t sure I’d find you here. Thought you might be at church or someone else’s place for the holiday.”

“Went to church last night.” Mildred slipped her feet into slippers. “And I had a few invitations but...let’s just say Christmas isn’t my favorite holiday anymore. You ruined my plans to stay in bed all day.” Despite her words, a pleased look shone in her eyes.

Jason’s mouth turned up in a smile. He took a few steps into the room, then sat on the edge of the bed. “I aim to ruin things for you. There I was, sitting in my apartment like Ebenezer Scrooge, all alone and miserable, and I thought—now who can I share this misery with?”

She ducked her chin at him. “You came to the right place.”

Even though they’d never had the type of relationship that included hugging, he gave in to the urge to slip his arms around her frail shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. “Merry Christmas, Gran.”

She returned his hug. “I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, the presents don’t end there.” Jason stood and held out his hand for her. “I have something else for you. Something I remembered last night while I was on my journey with ghosts of Christmases past.”

“If you stretch the metaphor too far, it loses its impact.” Mildred grinned at him. “But what do I know? I’m just a backcountry old coot. Did I ever tell you I taught high school English for forty-six years?”

He blinked at her, clasping her hand. “No, you didn’t. But I have a feeling we have a lot of catching up to do.” He led her out of the bedroom, feeling more certain than before that he’d made the right decision to come down here.

Imagine if he hadn’t? Mildred would have spent the whole day in bed, alone and lonely.

He guided her past the crates, then onto the worn paisley-patterned sofa in her living room. “One sec.”

Jason left her there, then went back for the crates. Setting them down beside her, he knelt in front of them. He was practically at eye level with her this way. He pulled the canvas back. “I went to my grandfather’s attic for these last night—I had a faint memory of my grandfather storing them there after Mom died.”

The crates were filled with art canvases, neatly fitted inside.

Mildred eyed the canvases suspiciously. “What are these?”

Jason pulled one out, running his thumbs over the text of the dried oils. The smell of them brought him back to another era. Entering his mother’s dark rooms, her silhouette against a window.

The sharp sting of turpentine, the paints smudged on her hands.

“After Dad died, Mom took to painting a lot. I never really knew what these were, but look.” He pushed a stack of ten canvases into her hands.

Mildred's grip was shaky. She motioned toward the coffee table with her nose. “Hand me my reading glasses, will you?”

Jason fetched them for her and she unfolded them. Putting them on, she stared at the painting on top. Main Street, Brandywood.

Mildred put it beside her, then gazed at the next one. The backyard of Mildred’s house—at least as it had probably looked thirty years earlier. In total silence, Mildred sorted through the ones he’d handed her. One by one, images of the world Martha had left behind came into view.

Mildred had been right—his mother was a talented artist. And her renditions of these places had been crafted with care and diligence. These were not places that appeared dark or unloved.

Jason took Mildred’s hands. “It occurs to me you’ve spent the last fifteen years thinking that your daughter hated the world she left behind.” The wrinkled fingers curled against his. “I don’t think that’s true, though. She was depressed, and her mental health suffered, but I think she thought about you a lot. Missed you. So she kept coming back home—in these paintings.” Jason motioned toward the crates. “Mi—Gran. They’re all of Brandywood. Every single one.”

Mildred still didn’t respond, but her eyes looked watery.

Had it been a mistake to do this? Jason felt the knot of worry tugging at his gut. “I don’t know if I ever really apologized for turning you away when you came to her funeral, but I’m sorry. You deserved to be there. Deserved to say goodbye. And I didn’t realize just how true that was until recently. I’m sorry I was such an ass for so long.”

Mildred chuckled. “I suppose you get that on all sides, no? Maybe even from me.” She reached out and touched his jaw gently. “But don’t tell me you came all this way just to make an old woman cry on Christmas?”

He shook his head and gave her a smile. “I came to be with my family on Christmas.” Then he moved the paintings and sat beside her again. “And maybe stay for a little while after that.”

She slipped her arm into his and leaned against his bicep. “What about Cavanaugh Metals?”

“Chances are Cavanaugh Metals won’t exist within a few weeks.” Jason didn’t want to think of the conversation he still needed to have with Bob Klein. But if anyone could figure out his next steps, a consultant for the FBI financial crimes department could.

Mildred gave him a wary look. “So if Colby is inheriting and the business goes under—won’t you be in the poorhouse before long?”

Jason threw back his head and laughed. “Maybe so. You have a room I can rent? By now, I’m pretty sure I’m persona non grata around here.”

Mildred puffed up her chest and sat straighter. “Do I have a room? You could have stayed with me for free this whole time if you had just asked, you know.”

“After you shot at me? I think I’d have been sleeping with one eye open.” Jason exchanged a laughing glance with her. He put his arm around her shoulders. “By the way, you’re going to be a great-grandma. Again.”

Mildred whooped with laughter. “Jason?”

He gave her a sheepish glance. “Yes?”

“You need to learn how to keep it in your pants, sonny.”

Jason paced through Mildred’s living room. When he’d sent a text message to Bob Klein on Christmas Eve asking to speak to him, he hadn’t expected Bob to respond on Christmas. Now he was on his way over here.

Did he think Jason was trying to intrude on the holiday? Cause a scene?

Probably.

Mildred was in the kitchen, making a last-minute Christmas dinner for the two of them. She’d sent Jason to the grocery store with a list, and he’d even found the small ham she’d asked for. Finding an open store meant going a few towns over to the nearest big-chain grocery store open on Christmas, though. Everything in Brandywood was closed.

The soft thud of a car door closing made Jason lift his chin. That was fast. Bob strolled up the front walk, wearing a Christmas sweater. Jason smirked. That didn’t surprise him in the least. He went down the steps and opened the door as Bob approached.

Bob greeted him with a curt nod. “Merry Christmas.” He held out his hand to shake Jason’s.

Jason returned the handshake, inviting him in. “I appreciate you coming over. I honestly didn’t expect you to respond so quickly. This could have waited another day.”

“Eh. I’m in Betty’s way, and the kids all went to some of their family’s houses for lunch.” Bob went up the stairs with a familiarity that made it clear he’d spent time at Mildred’s house before. She was like family to them, after all. He popped his head into the kitchen at the top of the stairs. “Merry Christmas, Millie. Smells good in here. Sure we can’t tempt you to come by for dinner?”

Mildred came over toward the doorway, wooden spoon in hand. “Not a chance.” She gave Bob a kiss on the cheek. “Can’t you see I got myself a handsome beau for the evening?” Her exaggerated wink toward Jason beamed with pride.

Bob chuckled, then followed Jason to the living room. He sat in an armchair across from the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?” Jason offered.

Bob scrunched his nose. “No. Thank you, though.” He clasped his hands together, then leaned forward. “What can I do for you? I must admit, it surprised me to hear you were back in town.” His wary glance made it clear he was worried about Jen.

“I came to see my grandmother for Christmas.” Checking back over his shoulder toward the kitchen, he lowered his voice a bit. “And, before I say anything else, I just want you to know that I have no intention of bothering Jen while I’m here. As it so happens, what I was hoping to speak to you about is something else entirely.”

Jason pulled out a file folder where he’d placed the quarterly report, as well as screenshots he’d taken from the software. “I went into Cavanaugh Metals last night and I stumbled across a problem. Well . . . take a look.” He handed the folder to Bob.

Bob slipped a pair of glasses out from the top pocket of his shirt under his sweater. Without a word, he scanned the documents. Jason cleared his throat. “The printouts”—he left his seat and squatted beside Bob—“those are directly from the accounting software we use. There’s a system in place that logs each user any time a change is made.”

Bob flipped through the papers silently. At last, he took a sharp breath in through his nose and closed the file. “You realize I can’t be silent about this sort of thing.”

Jason nodded. “That’s why I came to you. I figured you might give me guidance as to what the next steps are.”

“Someone is going to jail.” Bob set the file on his lap. “I can contact my boss about it later tonight if you’d like. And more than likely, once this sort of thing comes out, shareholders will sell en masse.” He looked directly at Jason. “Don’t think about dumping anything beforehand, by the way. You don’t need that sort of trouble.”

“I know.” Jason had already thought of that.

Bob lifted the file. “Mind if I take this with me? So I can go over it in more detail?”

“I made multiple copies.” Some of the tension in Jason’s shoulders dissipated. The matter was out of his hands now. “And what do you think the chances are of having to declare bankruptcy?”

“They’re high.” Bob’s lips pressed to a tight line. “But chances are more will come out about how long this has been going on. I know your grandfather had relinquished control of the company a while ago, but things like this rarely happen overnight.”

Jason frowned. “Are you saying my grandfather knew about it?”

Bob shook his head. “I doubt it. His sense of morality might not align with my own, but I don’t think he was a criminal.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, I should probably tell you something I told Jen. About how I met your grandfather.”

He set the file on the small end table beside the armchair and began telling Jason of his trip to Chicago to find Kevin years before. Jason sat back on the sofa, listening without interruption. His grandfather had known about Colby?

Why hadn’t his grandfather just said something? Or made it more clear in his will what he wanted if he knew the truth?

Then again, he and his grandfather had only sparred more and more as time went on. Would Jason have tried to put a stop to the inheritance question if he’d known about his grandfather’s idea beforehand?

His grandfather would have thought so.

When at last Bob finished, he said, “I don’t know what your true intentions with Jen are, but I will say that I’ve seen the light in her eyes dim since this whole thing with you. This has taken a toll on her in a way that’s been hard for Betty and me to see. We didn’t know how much she was struggling—and I don’t mean financially—but in feeling alone.” Bob cleared his throat. “Betty is sensitive to it because she was left in a similar position years ago. When I met her, she had two small boys and didn’t think she’d ever marry again.”

No wonder Dan and Warren looked nothing like him. They were his stepsons.

“I love Dan and Warren as though they were my own kids, you know.” Bob held Jason’s gaze. “And someone loving Jen is important to us. Of course, it is. But she’s not a one-person package. Whoever loves her needs to love Colby just as much, you understand? Not put Jen in a place where she feels like she can’t trust.”

He'd liked Jen’s father before this, and the parallels made the hair on his arms rise. “I understand.” Not that Jen would ever want to speak to him again. He glanced away from the intensity of Bob’s gaze. “I didn’t know much about any of this when I first came to Brandywood. And I was angry with my grandfather’s decision. Angry with Kevin for what he’d done. But now, with Jen, I truly believe she and Colby deserve everything my grandfather left Colby. And I may have started out unsure what to make of her, but she spun my world upside down. I love your daughter. And if leaving her alone is the best for her, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Bob searched his face, then nodded a few times. He stood, holding the file. “I’ll be in touch about this.”

Bob called out another warm wish for Mildred, then left. Jason closed the door behind him.

Time to move forward.