Once and Again (25 page)

Only by getting away could she figure out who she was and what she needed to do.

As if Jane knew she was struggling, the small woman gave her a gentle smile. “I think I’ve lectured you enough.”

“You haven’t lectured me at all.”

Jane’s calm practicality had buoyed her, given her a fresh perspective. She’d been wallowing in misery, searching for clarity, but unable to find it anywhere. Leaving Briarwood and Eastbridge seemed the obvious solution, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“My lack of lecturing is exactly why Andy’s reading is so awful,” Jane said with a rueful laugh. “Seriously, you know what you need to do.”

She needed to take a good, long look at herself and figure out what she valued and what she didn’t. Maybe, just maybe, she’d get some answers without destroying everything she’d built. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, she had to do something. And fast.

Jake was the last person Carolyn expected to see at her front door at eleven o’clock at night, standing under her porch light, but when she did a double take and peeked out through the peephole again, there he was. He had on a tight T-shirt, worn jeans, and an attitude she could feel through the door. New Jake.

But he was still Jake. She opened the door.

“Hi,” she said.

“I’m leaving for Miami in the morning,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting. “I wanted to give this to you before I left.” He held out a box.

She didn’t touch it. “What is it?”

“Your jewelry.”

“What jewelry?”

“Your grandmother’s stuff.”

A little crease formed between her brows. “Where did you get it? When I went back to the store, the owner told me the whole lot had already been sold.”

“To me,” he said, holding out the box again. “Go on. Take it.”

Tentatively, she reached out. “This isn’t…it can’t be. Jake…what did you do?”

“I bought it.”

“When?” The timing was very, very important for a reason she couldn’t quite articulate.

“After I got back from Miami, after that night we spent together, I went to the only consignment shop around here I knew—that one on Route 1. I saw your pearls. I bought everything.”

“Why?” she said, her voice choked.

“It was the look on your face when you told me about selling them. I’d never seen it before—just totally lost. And I’d been there. Jesus, I’d been there more times than I could count.”

“B-but you kept them.”

“I was going to give them to you as a gift next week. To celebrate the day we first met at Briarwood. Now I’m leaving and you’re leaving and I just wanted to give them to you before…you know, clean break and all.”

She opened the box. “Jake—”

“I had some time to think. I just want you to know—I’m angry, sure, but I can’t blame you for doing what you need to do. And it doesn’t change what we shared. I don’t regret it. Any of it. I’ll miss you, Caro.” He reached out and ran the back of his hand over her cheek so gently, so tenderly, she almost cried.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she said, her voice thick.

He cupped her jaw in his hand; the look on his face almost one of pain. “Caro,” he said, closing the distance between them. She was still clutching the box—her jewels—in her hands, but he was bending his head anyway, so easily, so naturally, and he was going to kiss her and it would feel just like old times. She could ask him to stay the night. She wanted to, so very badly. How could she ever have thought she could give this up? His lips were closer now, so close she could feel his breath on her mouth.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips, ready to welcome his touch.

And then he froze.

“What was that?” Jake whispered against her lips.

Carolyn’s eyes flew open. “What?”

“Shh—” he said, and waited.

She listened hard and then heard what he heard—a long, low creak coming from the back of the house. Then there was another creak, and some shuffling on the floorboards. “Is anyone with you?”

Carolyn shook her head. “No.”

“Shit.” Quickly and quietly, he pulled her outside. “Do you have anything I can use as a weapon? A baseball bat or a stick?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“No,” she whispered. “Wait, yes. A field hockey stick in the front hall closet.”

“It’ll have to do. Stay here, and if I’m not back in one minute, call the police.”

She bit her lip. “Be careful, Jake. Please.”

He nodded, tiptoed into the house, and carefully opened the hall closet. Quietly, he rummaged around until he found her battered field hockey stick, gave her a nod, and crept back to the kitchen.

In another second, she heard the screaming.

Heedless as to her safety, she raced into the house, down the hall, and to the kitchen. Jake was there, his back to her, and he seemed all right. “Are you okay?” she asked him breathlessly. Then she noticed Bartholomew Rivington standing in the kitchen, a smashed sandwich by his feet. “Dad! What are you doing home?” Bart’s face was red and he was clutching his heart. She rushed over to his side. “Oh, my God, Dad!”

“I returned from Nantucket this evening, only to find this…this
person
threatening me in my own kitchen,” he said, gesturing wildly at Jake.

“It’s not your kitchen,” Jake growled.

“Shh, Dad, please calm down. Don’t agitate yourself.”

“Carolyn,” Bart said, “Do you know this man?”

“Yes, Dad. I know him, and so do you. It’s Jake. Jake Gaffney.”

Bart’s eyebrows came together. “The
caddy
?”

“He’s not a caddy anymore. He owns Briarwood.”

There was silence as the words sunk in.

Bart frowned and shook his head. “He needs to get out of my house.”

“Again, not your house,” Jake said, his voice sounding more and more irritated by the second.

“Jake, please,” Carolyn said. “Don’t make this worse.”

Sensing he’d gotten the upper hand, Bart crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Jake smugly. Carolyn didn’t like this exchange any better than the screaming, but at least her dad wasn’t clutching his heart anymore.

Jake turned to her, his gaze searching. “What do you want me to do?”

To continue what they’d started. But that wouldn’t be wise. Not now—with her father standing right there. Especially because the things she had to say to him were best said in private. “I think it might be best if you go for now,” she said. “I’ll call you later.”

He gave a short nod, leaned the hockey stick against the wall, then left.

As soon as Jake left, and before she could even get a word in, her dad started in on her.

“What the hell were you thinking, Carolyn, letting that man into the house?” Bart began pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen counter. “I can’t believe I come home from my trip to Nantucket to find this!”

“Dad, please. Stay calm. Anyway, you didn’t tell me you were coming home! We thought you were a burglar! We almost called the police!”

“We?” Bart said, hand on his brow. “My God, Carolyn, I leave for a few days and a strange man comes into this house! I can’t believe that you have gotten involved with Jake Gaffney again! Did you learn nothing fifteen years ago?”

Carolyn almost laughed at how much her dad had missed. He’d been gone for a full month, during which time he didn’t call or even answer her texts or emails. It was almost as if she didn’t exist to him. So rather than explain to him that no, she and Jake weren’t together, she would tell him that he’d relinquished his right to tell her what to do when he attempted to steal her inheritance. But she needed to know that for certain. To confirm that what Bex suggested was actually true, because until she heard it from him, she couldn’t be sure. “I don’t want to talk about Jake, Dad. I want to talk about something much more important.”

“And now he’s a tattooed freak,” her dad ranted, obviously missing the memo about moving on. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Just drop it, Dad.”

“I am your
father,
Carolyn.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “You are my father. But you’re not always right.” Fifteen years ago she let Bartholomew Rivington talk her into walking away from Jake. She turned her back on him when he needed her the most because her father insisted that Rivingtons didn’t associate with men of Jake’s ilk. Bart—and even Anelise—said she was too good for him, and for years that was what she thought. But it wasn’t true. It never had been.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re a Rivington.”

“I’m not a Rivington. I’m a person,” she insisted. “And so is Jake. He has more integrity than anyone else I know. He deserves respect, not censure. Anyway, if being a Rivington means I have to lie and steal, while looking down my nose at everyone else, I don’t know that I want to be a Rivington anymore.”

“Carolyn!” her father said sharply.

Before, such a tone would have cowed her, but not now. Not when she knew what he really was. Carolyn met his gaze evenly. “I know about the trust that Mom left for me.” She waited for him to feign innocence. To deny he’d hidden it from her.

He didn’t.

“You’re not the best with money, Carolyn. You never were, and neither were your sisters. And it’s partly my fault. I paid for everything, kept you sheltered, away from the mess.” He said this without blinking. And this failure to even acknowledge his culpability told her everything she needed to know.

Anger bubbled inside her, slow at first, and then, as he kept on with the talk about how precious his daughters were and how careful he was not to expose them to dirty things like money and debt, her fury grew and grew. She’d been working her ass off to save her family and instead of helping, or even acknowledging her work, her own father had completely deceived her. Bart continued on, either willfully oblivious or completely clueless as to her emotions. Finally, she cut him off.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through over the past year?”

He gave her a look of pure condescension. “I know it’s been challenging, but that’s all going to change now.”

“How? Do I get to use all my inheritance on more of your debts?” she snapped. “I think I can understand why you and Mom didn’t tell me about the trust before. But after she died and Worring took everything, why wouldn’t you tell me about it then? I have spent most of the last year trying to clean up your mess with zero support—the mess that you foisted on us with your lack of economy and forethought to our finances. I thought you were so devastated by Mom’s death that you couldn’t work. I gave you a pass, thinking you weren’t ready, believing that you couldn’t take on any more burden. So you racked up the bills while your creditors called me day and night. And like an idiot,
I
picked up the phone.
I
paid them! You even let me sell off Grandma’s jewelry and the furniture. Have you seen this place? It’s empty! Why didn’t you file for bankruptcy?”

“Because I’m not bankrupt,” Bart said tightly.

All at once, her anger faded and her heart sank. “Oh,” she said slowly. “Oh, I see. Instead of working, instead of helping save this family, you were just biding your time until you could steal all the money. You just kept living the same life you always did, knowing you had the way to pay it all off.” Her father’s mouth was tight, his posture defensive, erasing any thought of giving him the benefit of the doubt. “But you didn’t just want my share, did you? You wanted Blair’s and Dani’s, too. Plenty to get rid of your debt and go on living normally. Yowls knew. He
helped
you.” So
that
was why Bex had to get the court order to make Yowls give up the files. He knew they might implicate him—and her dad!

“Your mother promised me she’d take care of me,” Bart said furiously, his face red.

“I was there, Dad. She promised she’d take care of
us.
”

“She told me you girls deserved it. That you could make your own decisions with the legacy she left,” Bart spat. “She didn’t understand. I
needed
that money.”

Anelise had understood all too well. And now, so did Carolyn. Her mother had set her free, leaving her millions in trust, even hiding the existence of the safe deposit box from Bart—except her father couldn’t let go. If Bart hadn’t made the poor decision to entrust his fortune to Worring, Carolyn would have continued to live in ignorant bliss, but when the money was gone, his true nature had come out.

She’d never thought of her sisters as the academic types. Blair was idealistic and Dani opportunistic, but now she realized that her sisters were a lot smarter than she gave them credit for. They’d cut out while they could, made their own freedom. But Carolyn had stayed, and her golden chain had become shackles of iron. Her dad hadn’t banked on one thing, though—her strength. The strength she’d gotten by finally standing on her own two feet. She could support herself, make choices for herself—and she didn’t need to feel guilty about them anymore.

“I want you out of here.”

“Your mother would be appalled if she heard you speaking to me in this way.”

“No. I don’t think so.” Carolyn put one hand on the counter, leaning on it, drawing strength from the smooth, cool granite. “You know what Mom said to me just before she died?
Be happy, Carolyn.
I’ve tried to take those words to heart, but it’s been hard given everything we’ve gone through over the past year. And then I find something that does make me happy—the only thing that’s ever truly made me happy—and because of you, he just walked right out the door.”

“You—you love that man?”

Her father would never understand because he only saw what was on the outside, while everything Jake was came from within. Jake put on the toughest of fronts, but he was the most gentle man she knew. He seemed like he wouldn’t bend, no matter what people threw at him, but then he surprised everyone with his generosity. It didn’t matter how many tattoos he had or how he dressed; he couldn’t hide what he was inside.

“More than anything,” she said.
Truth. Finally.

Bart stepped back, as if struck. Then he shook his head in disbelief. “I can only hope that you realize what you’re doing before it’s too late.”

“Oh, I have,” she said. “For the first time, I get it.”

“I paid for everything you own,” Bart thundered. “Your clothes, your car, your apartment, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping with a caddy and kicking me out of the house?”

“I could have paid for everything, including your debts, if you’d only told me the truth about the trust. I would have given you anything.”

“That money is mine,” her dad said, pointing his thumb at his chest. “It was meant for
me.
” His face was completely red now, and Carolyn thought he might have another heart attack, so she answered as coolly as she could.

“It’s not, and the law is quite clear about it. I don’t want you to have another heart attack, so if you won’t leave, I’m going to. But by the time I get home tomorrow, you need to be gone.”

He actually looked stunned. “You’re not serious.”

“Utterly.”

“This is crazy, Carolyn. Where will I go?”