Authors: T. B. Markinson
***
“Earth to Ainsley. Come in, Ainsley.” Maya spoke through cupped hands.
I was sitting in my desk chair, staring into space and probably looking like I’d just seen little green men climbing out of the closet, shouting, “Nanu! Nanu!”
She moved to stand in front of me, and I rested my head against her stomach. “I’m sorry, Maya. I don’t feel well.”
Squatting down, she placed a tender hand on my forehead, checking my temperature. “Tell me what you need. Aspirin? Sprite? Hot shower?”
“Lie down with me and hold me.”
She carefully tucked a strand of hair off my forehead and behind one ear. “I can do that. Not a problem, beautiful.” Her smile brimmed with love and trust.
I bolted off the chair, barely making it to the toilet before spewing the contents of my stomach. Maya rushed in, pulling my hair back just in time for the second wave.
“Shhh…” She pulled me into her arms as I started to sob, rocking me slightly. “Do I need to call Dr. Pat?”
At that moment, I wanted to shout that I loved her, because she understood. She knew I wouldn’t go to the ER or the health center. She knew I would go to Pat. But instead of declaring my love, I shook my head and snuggled closer to her chest. “Just hold me, Maya. Hold me and never let me go.”
Chapter Eighteen
The following Sunday, Maya insisted we bring Grover to Agnes’s place for dinner, which thrilled Pat, of course. He had been picking Grover up at Fee’s mom’s and sneaking the terrier into Fiona’s apartment a couple of nights a week, and the two of them were perfectly suited for each other—both crazy but loveable.
Fiona thought Grover would provide a wonderful distraction, for me and from me. Half the time, I was on the verge of puking my guts out; the other half, I spent racking my brain trying to figure a way out of the Eckley dilemma.
I had wanted to nix the dinner, but Fee was worried that would trip a distress signal, and who knew who was watching? Her plan, so far, was to stay the course.
She also quickly dismissed my fear that having dinner with Agnes would lead Grandmother’s goons to Maya’s front door.
“Think, Ains. She already knows about Maya anyway. Chuck is good, but the witch’s goons can no doubt run circles around little Chuckie with their hands tied behind their backs. It’s not the time to act fearful. Be bold. Think JFK during the Cuban Missile Crisis.”
Grover barked, pulling my thoughts back to the present.
“My apologies, Grover.” Agnes leaned over and patted his head. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
Agnes took to Grover right away, even making him a plate of hamburger while the rest of us binged on homemade chili. For a moment, I thought she was going to wrap a bib around the dog and sit him at the table with us. Pat was only one step away from that at Fiona’s, too, and Grover seemed utterly convinced he was human. The terrier even slept under the covers with his head on a pillow. Who couldn’t love him?
While Agnes gave Maya her weekly update about the goings-on in the neighborhood, Pat and Fiona listened half-heartedly, too busy scarfing their meals.
I kept listening for Eckley buzzwords or code words, but there were none. What did I expect? For Agnes to say,
Do you remember Raymond? He e-mailed the other day to say he’s watching.
After the report of who was pregnant, in prison, or going to college, Agnes turned to Fiona and asked, “What are you studying?”
Fiona covered her mouth and mumbled, “History,” to the best of her ability.
“Ah, these two lovebirds”—Agnes pointed with a spoon to Maya and then to me—“met in a history class. Are you in it as well?” She scooped up a spoonful of chili.
“No. I go to Harvard.”
“She’s wicked smart,” Pat said, through his own mouthful of food.
“Fiona wants to be like Doris Kearns Goodwin,” Maya added.
Agnes nodded appreciatively. “I loved her book
Team of Rivals
. Now I’m reading
Bully Pulpit
. There’s so much I never knew about William Howard Taft. And Teddy has always been one of my faves.”
“Me too.” Fiona held a palm to her chest, and it was hard to miss the excitement coursing through her veins. Not only did Agnes know Fee’s favorite historian, she had also read some of her books.
Maya’s triumphant grin let me in on her secret that she’d planned the comment, knowing Agnes and Fiona would easily slip into conversation. Maya would make an excellent fixer someday. She was highly intelligent, but even more than that she was cunning. I was learning firsthand that Maya could figure people out with just one look. Like Grandmother, she knew whom to trust, how to work them, and how to control them. In the beginning, I’d wondered how Maya had learned those skills; the Eckley bombshell, though, made me realize she’d had to learn how to survive. I laid a hand on her thigh, and she rested hers on top. Again, I made a silent vow to protect her at all costs, and Agnes. I had to help them both.
“I love to read but could never stomach romance novels or thrillers.” Agnes pointed to a small shelf that contained a handful of library books. “For some reason, I can never get enough of American history. I didn’t have a chance to go to college like Maya, but I try to keep up.”
“Keep up? I can never keep up with you.” Maya turned to me. “I swear my mother knows more than Dr. Gingas, and all because of a library card. Ben Franklin would be so proud.”
Agnes flushed. Fiona patted her hand and launched into her favorite topic: Teddy Roosevelt.
Pat scraped the bottom of his bowl with some bread, not wanting to miss a drop.
“There’s more on the stove.” Agnes tilted her head, giving him permission to help himself.
Pat pushed his empty plate back, rose, and retrieved a pan off the stove, serving generous second helpings of chili for all. Agnes, embroiled in scintillating political conversation with Fiona, nodded a thank-you.
I wondered how it was that both Fiona and Pat looked like they belonged here. Agnes seemed thrilled to host us in her home, and Maya glowed with happiness. I finally felt like I belonged to a loving family. I gave Maya’s leg a squeeze. Her dazzling smile, though, couldn’t erase the fear roiling inside me.
Please, God, don’t let Maya’s father swoop in and take this away.
Chapter Nineteen
My prayers went unanswered.
“Great heavens and earth.” Fiona slumped back on the couch two days later, her face as pale as if she had just walked through a minefield and was still unsure whether she was safe. Without saying anything else, she held up her phone, displaying her Twitter feed.
“You have a Twitter account?”
“Of course, but not in my name. Everyone in the family has an account, except you. You’re missing the point.” She shook the phone in my face, and my world crashed down around me.
Squinting at the screen, I saw a photo of Maya and me kissing. Air whooshed out of my mouth as if I’d been hit, and I snatched the phone out of her hands to examine the photo.
“When was this taken?”
Pat grabbed the phone off me. “Looks like the front of Fiona’s apartment. Is this what she was wearing that night you two brought over leftovers?”
It was. I locked eyes on Fiona.
“Don’t give me the stink eye. I’m not the one dating a billionaire’s daughter.”
“Billionaire’s daughter?” Pat exclaimed. “That’s what you found out. Maya is a modern-day Little Orphan Annie? And I thought the news was a game changer.”
It was, but how could I loop Pat in without putting Maya at risk?
“Hey, wait, there’s another photo.” Pat handed the phone back to us. It was of Ham and Mei, in bed, and then another one of Pat and Fiona smoking a joint. Next was my mother with a man I didn’t recognize, although from the looks of it, they were intimately acquainted.
“Let me guess. My pops is next.” Fiona waited, wide-eyed, but the next image was of my sister.
“Kylie?” Fee exclaimed.
“In her judge’s robes. Why?” I racked my brain.
We didn’t have time to ponder. Fiona’s father, my uncle Owen, was next. He wasn’t alone, but we knew that was coming.
Someone with the Twitter handle @EdwardGibbon had been stalking every member of our family, snapping photos for weeks, if not months. Was this Eckley’s doing? Or Susie Q’s? Others? Or were all Carmichael-haters in cahoots?
“Who would do this?” Pat asked.
“Why would anyone do this?” Fiona asked.
“Edward Gibbon? Aren’t groups like this usually called ‘Anonymous’ or something more sinister? This name seems harmless. Nerdy, even,” I said, adding my two cents.
“My guess is it’s a reference to Edward Gibbon who wrote
The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
,” Fiona said.
“Meaning the end of the Carmichael dynasty.” I stated the obvious, shaking my head. “Ham warned me the end was near.”
“Who would pretend to be Edward Gibbon, besides historiographers, of course?” Fee tapped her fingertips on her cheek.
“Why ‘of course’?” Pat cocked his head.
“He published in the late 1700s if memory serves me correctly. He’s a big deal within academia but not in Twitter world.” Fiona pulled a face.
I sat up straight. “Wait. Did he come up with ‘Revenge is profitable, gratitude is expensive’ line?”
“That sounds familiar.” Fee queried her cell.
“Remember I received a text with that quote. I thought Susie sent it after Fart Gate.”
“Yep. That was Gibbon.” Fiona set her phone aside.
“I need to call Ham.”
“Ham? Why Ham?”
“He knows about the quotes. He’s been getting them as well.”
“Quotes?” She put a hand to her breast. “You’ve received more and went to Ham and didn’t even tell me?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. My phone rang, immediately followed by Fiona’s. We knew, without answering, we were being summoned. Time to circle the wagons. Time to get off the grid and retreat to a fortress where photographers and the press couldn’t reach us. Neither of us answered our phones. It wasn’t necessary.
“We should get going,” I said. “We can talk in the car.”
Fee nodded. “Pat, go get Maya. We’ll meet you there.”
“Why?” Pat asked.
“Please, Pat. The poor girl has never had to deal with this before. Media dogs will be crawling all over her like she’s Princess Diana back from the dead. Something tells me Maya won’t like that and—”
“What about Agnes?” Pat interrupted. This was his first official Carmichael rally around the flag, but he wasn’t thinking like an amateur, and thank God for that; my mind was reeling so much I wasn’t thinking of the big picture: Maya and Agnes.
“Yes, please get her, too. I can’t bear to think…” Fiona gave him a shove to get him going.
“Where does Maya live?” He gripped his car keys like they were a weapon.
“She’s at work,” I said.
Pat nodded and left.
“Are you sure we should bring Maya into the viper’s den?” I asked Fiona once the coast was clear. A vision of Grandmother having one of her goons escort Maya and Agnes out of her house invaded my mind. “What if she tosses them out?”
“It’s a risk we have to take. Look, we’ve never dealt with a man like Eckley. I’m not ashamed to admit we’re in over our heads. Grandmother and the goons will know what to do. Ham obviously didn’t take care of the problem.” Her facial expression softened. “I know you’ve been itching to declare your independence, but now isn’t the time. Think of Maya.” She put a hand on each of my shoulders. “She and Agnes need Grandmother in their corner. Besides, Maya is in one of the photos. The old lady will want her off the grid and not chatting with bloggers.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. Once Grandmother is in their corner, how do we get her out?”
“One problem at a time, Ains. One problem at a time.”
***
Grandmother sat in her plush chair in her “office,” aka her bedroom. It wasn’t a typical bedroom. It had a bed, of course, but that was on the other side of an elaborate Chinese-silk screen none of us were allowed behind. Fiona had once dared me to peek, but the plan was foiled by Grandmother’s assistant, who always popped up like a ninja at inopportune moments. The room also contained a desk, a couch, and several wing chairs. Grandmother, of course, only sat in the largest and most luxurious chair. Dragon-red, it resembled a throne.
“Chuck has been busy.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. How did she know about Chuck?
“Don’t stand there with your mouth open, catching flies. There’s not much I don’t know. Every time Fiona pings Chuck, he alerts my staff.” She didn’t even have the decency to look conniving; she looked bored, like I should have known all along. And I should have. What an amateur move!
“So when I told you about Maya, you already knew everything?” I said, trying to stop my revulsion from registering in my voice.
Grandmother waved me away. “Please, Ainsley. I don’t have time for questions you already know the answers to. You used to be bright.”
What in the hell did that mean?
She leaned on her cane with both hands. “And you used to be one of my favorites. Hard as nails, you were, always putting the quest first.”
Why was she talking like Yoda? Although she was just as wrinkled and frail as the Jedi Master.
Tears formed in my eyes, but I willed them away.
“Do you want to know what I plan to do?” she asked.
Actually, I preferred not knowing a thing, but that wasn’t an option. Grandmother always had to be pulling all the strings, and she made damn sure we understood who the puppet master was.
“The way I see it,” she said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated by my zipped trap, “is this
relationship
will run its course in due time, so why not end it now?”
Run its course! She said it like Maya was a dose of the flu.
“I don’t have the flu, Grandmother.” I resisted the urge to spit the word “Grandmother” with more venom. “I’m not infatuated with Maya. I’m in love with her.”
She raised an eyebrow, implying “so what?”
I gave her my best steely-eyed glare.
“And you think you have a future with this girl? You are aware of her mother, of course.”
Was the Eckley ball about to drop?