Chapter 20
F
or most of the two-hour drive into Manhattan, Connor held Olivia’s hand. He listened to her fears and questions. He allayed her concerns, answered what questions he could and put out the fire of doubt.
“If she’s agreed to see you, I’m sure she is just as curious to find out about her family. The thing you have to do is remember that they are part of your research, no matter which way it turns out. And if it happens that they’re your relatives, that’s the extra bonus.”
Olivia nodded. She’d done countless interviews with relatives, friends and the general public as part of her research. She knew the drill. But this time was different. She felt it in her soul. The key would be not to go in there demanding the answers that she wanted, but opening the doors for Constance Gray to walk through on her own.
With fifteen minutes to spare, Connor pulled the car onto 138th Street and Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard. The majestic homes that made up Strivers Row had been built between 1889 and 1892 by David H. King Jr. The Row was made up of light brown Italianate palazzos, redbrick neo-Georgians and Renaissance revival–style houses with beige brick and terra-cotta ornaments. They’d been off-limits to black homeowners until 1919. Soon after, some of the city’s most prominent black New Yorkers — like entertainer Bill “Bojangles” Robinson and politician Adam Clayton Powell Jr. — moved in. Moving onto Strivers Row was an indication that “you had arrived.”
Olivia took out her camera and photographed the stately row of town houses. Funny, in all her travels and research she’d never been to this part of Harlem. She’d seen the amazing photographs of the exteriors and the breathtaking interiors, but now she would experience them for herself.
“It’s the one on the end,” Olivia said, confirming the address with the information on her iPad.
Connor cruised to a stop and parallel parked into a space two doors down from Constance Gray’s home. He cut the engine and turned to Olivia. “Ready?”
She expelled a shaky breath. “Yes.”
He got out of the car and reached into the backseat for her bags, which held her cameras, laptop, tape and video recorders, notebook and the Dayton family journal.
Olivia took one of the tote bags and hoisted it over her shoulder. They walked toward the house and up the stoop steps to the parlor floor and the ornate entry door. Olivia took a quick look at Connor, dragged in a breath and rang the bell.
It felt as if an eternity passed before someone finally came to the door. When it opened, a woman of indeterminate age, dressed casually in a button-up beige cashmere sweater and tan slacks, was standing there. At first glance, with her very fair skin and emerald-green eyes, she could pass for white. But there was a hint of her blackness in the angle of her head and the way her full lips welcomed a kiss. For an instant her green eyes flashed and widened when she saw Olivia, but just as quickly settled back down to cool observation.
“You must be Dr. Gray.” She turned her gaze and perused Connor.
“Hello. Yes, I’m Dr. Gray and this is Connor Lawson. He is working on the restoration of the buildings.”
Constance seemed to hesitate, as if she was rethinking her invitation. Finally, she stepped aside to let them in.
Olivia and Connor dutifully followed Constance inside. They entered the foyer and faced a winding staircase constructed of the heavy dark wood of times gone by. The front room was to the right and they were immediately taken back fifty, sixty years to the grandeur of the sitting rooms that served as salons for the black elite, who would gather to discuss the arts, politics and race relations. The antique furnishings were the perfect touches to the cathedral ceiling, which dripped with crystal chandeliers that danced in the light like glass ballerinas. Heavy mahogany molding, gleaming hardwood floors, a working fireplace and massive mantel with a built-in mirror that rose to the ceiling all added to the historic ambience of the brownstone.
Connor was totally in his element. He was captivated by the intricate detail in the woodwork, the original molding, built-in wall sconces and the pocket doors that closed off for intimacy and opened onto an even larger room for those historic parties that were the rage of the Renaissance.
“Your home is incredible,” Connor said. “You’ve maintained all of the original details.” He turned to Constance, and she seemed to immediately soften under the spell of his smile.
“Yes. I inherited the house. It’s been in the Gray family for decades. We were determined to keep it as original as we could. Of course, we’ve had to update the plumbing and electricity, repair the roof and such, but overall it’s the way it was when it was built.”
“This is a landmarked property, correct?” Of course he already knew that, but he wanted to keep her engaged, to give Olivia time to collect herself.
“Yes, it is. This entire section, 138th to 139th Streets, are designated landmarks.”
“I’m sure your home must be one of the major highlights during the historic tours.”
Constance giggled like a girl, and for a moment, a reflection of the young woman she once was appeared. “Oh, I don’t know about all that,” she said coyly. “Oh, my, where are my manners. Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” Olivia said, the first words she’d uttered since they came in.
“Nothing for me,” Connor added. He sat next to Olivia on a Queen Anne couch, complete with the scalloped back and print fabric.
Constance took a seat in a straight-backed chair and folded her long fingers on her lap. She looked from one to the other, hesitating for a moment on Olivia. Her expression seemed to falter, then settle. “So how can I help you?”
“I was hoping to talk with you about the Dayton family, what you remember, things you may have been told by your parents and grandparents.” Olivia swallowed. “Things passed along to your children.”
Constance stiffened.
“What I want to do is try to piece together a timeline. I have a little information about your great-grandparents, but after the village dissolved, the history seems to be lost.”
Constance linked and unlinked her fingers. “I don’t have much to tell. My mother, Ellen, wasn’t much of a talker,” she said, with an inflection of disdain. Her features tightened. “From what I do remember, she didn’t want to have anything to do with… her past.” Constance pursed her lips.
Olivia reached for the tote that she’d set on the floor between her feet. She pulled out the Dayton family journal. “This is one of the items that was recovered. May I?” she asked, wanting permission to show it to her.
“Yes, of course.”
Olivia got up and came to stand beside Constance. She carefully opened the book to the page with Ellen on her wedding day. Olivia watched Constance’s narrow nostrils flare as she stared at the photograph.
“I’ve never seen this photo,” she said wistfully. Tenderly she touched the images. “My mother and I were never close, you see. I was… too dark.” Her lips pursed at the sourness of the words.
Olivia held her breath and hoped for more revelations.
“If you were the right color, you could ‘pass’ back then. My father could pass and did. He built a life as a white man. He married my mother and I guess they thought they could keep up the charade — until I was born.” She handed the book back to Olivia. “So you see, I don’t have much to tell.”
Olivia held the book to her chest. “Would you like to see some of the other items that I recovered?”
Constance blinked away the past and looked up at her. Again that instant of shock registered in the woman’s eyes. “Yes, I would.”
Olivia retrieved her bag and moved one of the side chairs next to Constance. She took out the plastic container that held the freedom papers, photographs and some of the schoolbooks.
Constance was totally immersed and fascinated as Olivia patiently explained what each item was, where she’d found it and its significance. She powered up her computer and turned on the PowerPoint program that showcased the array of photographic images that she’d taken of the site and the progress that was being made on the restoration.
Halfway through, they heard the front door open, and moments later a woman who had to be close to a very spry eighty-something appeared in the doorway. She stopped cold as if she’d seen a ghost, and her café au lait complexion darkened. She gasped in alarm, but quickly recovered. “Connie, I didn’t know you had company,” she said, trying to cover her faux pas.
Connor stood when she entered the room.
“Ann, this is Dr. Olivia Gray and Connor Lawson. They are both working on the restoration of Dayton Village. Ann Holmes is my father’s sister. We share the house together.”
Connor crossed the room and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Holmes.”
Ann tried to focus on Connor, but her attention kept drifting back to Olivia.
“Dr. Gray was showing me what they’ve accomplished. She has photographs.”
“Oh… may I?” The woman crossed to where Constance was sitting.
Olivia gave up her seat and offered it to Ann Holmes. She stepped closer to Connor and looked to him to get a gauge on what he was thinking. He lifted his chin and raised a brow to encourage her to take the next step.
“Ms. Gray, I have another reason for coming here today.”
Both women looked up from the items in front of them.
Olivia swallowed down her apprehension. “I think I may be related to you… to the Dayton-Gray family.”
Constance’s cheeks flushed red. She gripped the sides of the chair. “Simply because we have the same name is no earthly reason to believe that we could in any way be related. There are thousands of Grays. Should I entertain the idea that we are all related? In your research, Doctor, did you uncover that we are a very wealthy family?”
“Connie!” Ann gasped.
“Ms. Gray, I assure you money is not the reason. I’m quite comfortable financially. I… never knew my parents.” Connor placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I was given up at birth. I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to forget my unfortunate past or trying to explain it. This has been as close as I’ve ever come to maybe, just maybe, finding out who I am.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I’m sorry to have taken up your time.” She sniffed and proudly lifted her chin. “I’m sure The Institute and the NEA will be in touch when the work is completed.”
She collected the items on Ann’s lap and returned them to the container and tote. She wanted to run away screaming. Her face was so hot with anger and shame that she felt as if she was on fire. She had to get out of there. She nearly tripped over Connor in her rush to get to the door.
Ann followed them. “I think you may be right,” she whispered as Olivia crossed the threshold.
Olivia and Connor stopped. They both turned back to her.
Ann’s lips were tightly pressed together. She nodded her head. “Take my number and call me tomorrow morning,” she said softly.
Olivia, stunned, at least had the presence of mind to take out her cell phone. She tapped in Ann’s phone number. “Thank you.”
“No promises.” She closed the door.
Olivia pressed her hand to her chest as she descended the stairs. “Connor… ” she said, her voice lifting in question.
“I know, babe. I know. But we can’t get ahead of ourselves. One thing at a time. Look, instead of driving all the way back, let’s find a hotel in the city. This way… if anything… after the call, if we need to we can come right back… ” He opened the passenger side door.
She eagerly bobbed her head. “Oh, Connor.” She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with hope and fear.
He placed his hands on her waist. “Whatever happens, I’m here.” He gave her a quick reassuring kiss.
* * *
“You need to accept the truth once and for all, Constance. You’ve buried your head in the sand for decades,” Ann scolded.
Constance held her ground. “That young woman simply wants to get her hands on the Dayton-Gray money!”
“Constance. Stop it, just stop it.” Ann softened her tone and went to stand in front of her niece. “I know how difficult it was for you all those years, feeling that you were not wanted or loved. So you spent your life trying to be worthy, belonging to all the right organizations, attending the right schools, living here… All this… ” she added, spreading her arms expansively. “None of that will change how your parents made you feel. But, Connie, you passed your secret shame onto your daughter. That’s why she could never tell you. And that secret has come home to roost.”
Constance slowly lost the stiffness in her back and eased herself into a chair.
“Everything that’s done in the dark will come to light. It always does. That young woman needs to know the truth, and you need to face it. We all do.”
Soft tears slid down Constance’s smooth cheeks. She reached out her hand and her aunt Ann took it.
Chapter 21
O
livia barely slept. Every few minutes it seemed she was waking to look at the clock. The night dragged on and her racing thoughts gave her no rest. In the morning, one way or the other, she would find out what she’d been searching for all her life. Would knowing really change her? Would she feel different? What if she wasn’t part of the family and this was all one big crazy coincidence? Stranger things had happened.
“You’re going to be exhausted if you don’t get some sleep,” Connor said, his own voice husky with sleep. “Come here.” He gathered her close to him.
She rested her head on his chest and the soothing, steady rhythm of his heartbeat began to settle her.
“I can only imagine what you are going through,
cher
,” he whispered into the night. “But no matter what, you are going to come out of this okay. You know why?”
“No… ”
“Because I love you. I love you and I will be there to hold your hand, to wipe away tears of sadness or joy. You’re not alone in the world anymore, Liv. I’m here. And it’s not temporary. I’m staying.”
Something inside her shifted as if the world had slid momentarily off its axis. She felt full and light and happy and scared all at once. Desperately she wanted to crack open the door and take a step out onto the foundation of possibility. But underneath her the ground was still unsteady, and even with Connor’s words of love and his vow to stay, the fear that had been so much a part of who she was, sewn into the fabric of her existence, was still there. She couldn’t reach the knob of hope to turn it and push the door open.
Connor lightly kissed the top of her head. “Try to rest.”
Olivia closed her eyes and the cocooning comfort of Connor finally lulled her to sleep.
The sound of rushing water eased into Olivia’s slumber. When she opened her eyes she was surprised to see that it was after eight in the morning. She’d actually rested. She pushed the covers aside, stretched and stood up. Connor was in the shower and the smell of coffee was in the air. He’d put on a pot while she’d slept.
She smiled at the tiny gesture. He was crazy amazing in every way imaginable. Any woman would be a fool not to love Connor Lawson. Was she a fool?
Did
she love him and simply did not know it because she couldn’t recognize it? She knew that she wanted to be with him, talk with him, go to bed and wake up with him. She was a better person with him and because of him. He made her happy on every level. He challenged her intellectually and he was solidly his own man. He was gorgeous, sexy, funny, hardworking and, best of all, he loved her. She knew that. And she also knew that she would come apart at the seams if he was not in her life.
Her heart began to race and her stomach felt so funny. The pulse in her temple pounded. She pressed her hand to her chest as she suddenly couldn’t breathe. She pushed up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. Her hand shook ever so slightly as she reached for the knob. She turned it and stepped in.
The room swirled with steam almost as if it were a dreamscape. Connor, behind the curtain, hummed an offbeat tune.
Olivia stepped closer. The emotions that raced through her were so overwhelming that she could barely move. She slowly slid the curtain aside. Connor turned, not startled in the least, but easy and confident as he looked at her with a warm inviting smile.
“Hey, babe.”
“I… I love you.” She swallowed. Her heart pounded. The dam inside her burst.
Connor’s eyes darkened. He held out his hand to her. “Come in and tell me again.”
She tore off her robe, a giddy kind of joy zipping through her veins. She stepped into the shower.
Water rushed over them.
“Tell me again, Olivia Gray.”
She looked up at him as water poured over her face, masking the tears of joy that rolled down her cheeks. “I love you, Connor Lawson. I love you.”
He leaned down and covered her mouth. The kiss was raw and passion filled and sweet and solid. He held her tight, pressed her back against the wall. He stroked her body, planted kisses, set her skin on fire and readied her for him. “Say it again,” he groaned as he cupped her breasts, taunted her nipples and found his way inside her.
Olivia cried out in pleasure, “I love you. Yesss… ”
* * *
It was a little after ten in the morning. They’d ordered room service and were in bed watching one of those judge shows.
“Do you think it’s too early to call?” Olivia took a bite of her toast.
“A little. Why don’t you give it another hour?”
“Okay.” She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. “You know what?”
“Probably not,” he teased. He sipped his orange juice.
“I’m going to be okay. No matter what happens.”
“I know you will.”
“I didn’t feel that way before.”
He looked at her. “What changed?”
“You. Well… me. But you changed me.”
He grinned. “Hmm, sounds like Jedi-mind-trick woman talk.”
She playfully swatted him with her napkin. “You know what I mean.”
His eyes widened cynically. “Um, of course I do. You were perfectly clear.”
Olivia huffed. “I opened the door. I stepped out and I didn’t fall. You didn’t let me fall. I’ve never loved anyone, not really. I’ve never told anyone that I loved them.” She blinked and looked away. “Until you. And I feel… whole for the first time in my life.” She lowered her head as her eyes filled with tears.
Connor put his tray aside and slid closer to her. He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. “As long as I have a breath in me, you will always feel whole. Always,” he added softly. He winked to lighten the heavy emotional moment. “Now eat up, woman, so you’ll have the strength you’ll need when I ravish you.”
* * *
“Well… ” Connor waited.
Olivia put down the phone. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and elation. “They want to meet this afternoon at five.”
He beamed. “That’s great news.”
“There would be no need to meet if there wasn’t something substantial to say,” she said, a note of hope in her voice.
“More than likely not.”
She pressed her palms together almost in a posture of prayer. “Five hours.”
“Yeah. Since I’m in town and have some time, I want to take care of a few things, visit a couple of my suppliers. If I leave now I’ll be back in plenty of time to go with you.”
Olivia looked at him curiously for a moment. She shrugged lightly. “Okay.”
“I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“I’ll keep myself busy. I have reports to review.”
He kissed the top of her head. “See you soon.”
Olivia watched him walk out the hotel room door. She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, but then it went away.
* * *
Connor walked to the corner and hailed a Yellow Cab. “Fifty-seventh and Park,” he told the driver. He sat back and played all the possible scenarios in his head. It could go easy or ugly. The choice was not his. But today was the day of reckoning, settling all the business of the past one way or another.
The drive was only fifteen minutes. He paid his fare, got out and pushed through the glass doors of the office building. The Institute took up all twenty-five floors. When he walked into the lobby he had to stop at the security desk. Since 9/11 all the office buildings in Manhattan had instituted several levels of security before you could enter. He was asked for a photo ID, which they kept until he came back down; he had to sign in and then they called up to Reception to announce him. He was given a visitor’s patch to wear on his shirt.
Connor got on the elevator to the twentieth floor. Once there, the elevator dinged and the doors swooshed open. He walked over to the receptionist, who sat behind a wide U-shaped desk, and gave his name.
“If you’ll have a seat, someone will come and get you in a few minutes.”
Connor walked over to the row of leather chairs and sat down. He picked up a magazine from the glass table and thumbed through it, not really seeing anything on the pages.
“Mr. Lawson?”
He looked up. A young woman, no more than twenty and dressed all in black, was in front of him. He stood.
“If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to the meeting room.”
Connor followed her down a short hallway and around a corner. The young woman opened a door. “Dr. Randall will be right with you.”
“Thank you.” Connor walked inside, took in the room, which was more library than meeting room. One entire wall, from floor to ceiling, was lined with books on restoration, research, journals on the great findings of the world. He would be in heaven if he had the time to go through the amazing collection.
“Mr. Lawson.”
Connor turned. Victor Randall was as pressed and polished as he’d been the last time they’d met. He shifted his tie and closed the door.
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. I came here to clear the air once and for all.” Connor took a step toward Victor. “That crap you pulled on Olivia was beneath even you. But let’s get this straight. Olivia deserves the job. You know that, and trying to use me and my relationship with her was slimy at best.” He stepped closer and saw a muscle in Victor’s cheek jump. “You’re going to see to it that the position is hers if she wants it,” Connor said, his voice low and even. “And if she doesn’t want it, you are going to make sure that her contract gets renewed anyway. You’re going to apologize to her for the shit you pulled and you are never, as long as you live and breathe, going to bother her again.”
Victor frowned. “You can’t come in here and order me around, step in for your girlfriend—”
Connor was in his face before Victor could finish his sentence. They were nose to nose. “Don’t underestimate me, Victor. I will make it my personal business to make your life impossible to live. I will use my name, my resources and my family fortune to bring you to your knees. You won’t be able to get a job at the local car wash. And let’s be clear — this is not a threat. I’m telling you that
is
what will happen.” He took a step back and stared the man in the eye. “Are we clear?”
Victor’s mouth moved but he couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“I can’t hear you.”
“We’re clear,” he managed to say.
Connor clapped him on the arm. “Good. Glad to hear it, Victor. Hopefully, we won’t have to revisit this conversation.” He brushed by him. “Have a good day.”