A Woman of Fortune (37 page)

54

B
y midafternoon, Marcy's condition had improved enough for them to expect she'd be released before Christmas, which was only five days away. She'd be sore and need to take things easy for a while, but the doctors projected a full recovery.

Under the care of the medical professionals at Texas Children's Hospital, Emmy Claire underwent a groundbreaking therapeutic hypothermia treatment. The thin white blanket Claire earlier noticed her granddaughter lying on was used to lower the baby's body temperature from 98.6 to 92.2. The lower temperature would be maintained for three days, then slowly raised to normal. According to Dr. Mathis, a post-cooling MRI was expected to confirm she wouldn't have any long-term cognitive problems due to the lack of oxygen.

“We are very hopeful,” she said. “The results of these treatments have been profoundly effective in averting the kinds of catastrophic neurological and developmental deficits we've seen in the past. There is every reason to believe this medical intervention will ensure Emmy Claire a normal future in terms of medical prospects.”

No news would make a better Christmas gift.

With the medical crisis nearly over, Jana Rae and Mike drove Lainie and Max back to Dallas. Brian got a hotel room and some
much-needed sleep. Then he too said goodbye and headed north. “I'll see you in a few days,” he said. “And I'll call you every night.”

Despite the busy holiday week ahead for Della Claire Catering, no one could talk Claire out of leaving Houston. “Go ahead and stay as long as you need, Mama. I'll help Margarita out,” Lainie said as she hugged Claire goodbye.

“What about here in Houston?”

Lainie shrugged. “That's over.” The look in her daughter's eyes was so raw it surprised her. “And, Mama?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. And I'm sorry.”

Claire pulled her daughter into another embrace. Into her hair, she whispered, “I know, baby. I love you too.”

In her hotel room, Claire had just woken from much-needed sleep when her phone rang. Still groggy, she picked up, not recognizing the phone number. Suddenly she remembered the doctors could be calling about either Marcy or the baby, and her heart lurched.

“Hello?” she said, her heart pounding.

After a couple of strange clicks, the voice on the other end answered. “Claire, it's Tuck.”

She felt herself stop breathing. “Tuck?” she said. “What—”

“Don't hang up. Just listen, please. I—I, uh, Max called and told me about Marcy and the baby.” He paused. “Are you all right?”

Claire's eyes welled with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “I'm fine.” Several long seconds ticked by before she added, “She's beautiful. The baby.”

She couldn't help it. In her mind's eye she saw a much younger Tuck standing in the Burger Hut by the jukebox in his crisp, pressed jeans and a white oxford-cloth shirt. Her heart raced.

“Claire?”

“Yes, I'm here,” she said, her voice filled with emotion.

“Did you get my letter?”

She told him she had. “I—”

“No, Claire,” he said, interrupting her. “You don't have to say a thing. I understand. I didn't call for any of that. Only to let you know I was praying for all of you, and that I'm glad Marcy and the baby are okay. And that you are as well. I was—well, I was sick with worry.”

As hard as the past twenty-four hours had been on her, she couldn't imagine what Tuck had gone through, not being able to call or be there with his family. There had been a time when that idea would have sparked anger. She'd rehearse his bad choices in her mind and claim he deserved everything he got. But not today.

Somehow, no anger remained.

“Tuck?”

“Yes?”

“How are you? Are
you
okay?”

“This isn't a bad place,” he assured her. “For a prison. The inmate population is primarily nonviolent offenders, and I've made some friends. I go to Bible study and read.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I think about what I did to all of you, and to those people.”

Claire heard his voice crack.

“I'll spend the rest of my life wishing I could wind the clock back. I failed you, Claire, and I'm sorry.”

He never mentioned the divorce. Neither did she.

It hit her, then, that she may have delayed filing on purpose, without even realizing it.

She supposed it was true—what God welded together couldn't be broken. She might be able to dissolve her marriage legally, but after thirty years, her union with Tuck could never be entirely disconnected.

They'd been through fire and she'd been burned. But she knew her true strength came from the father of her children—the man she'd loved for thirty years. She could go through with the divorce, but that would be like cutting off her arm. She'd live, but a part of her would always be missing.

A tone sounded, and a recorded voice warned them they had one minute to wrap up their call.

“That's the signal.” Tuck sounded sadly resigned to accepting what he couldn't alter.

Claire bit her lip and picked at the hotel comforter. Realizing time was short, she gave in to the yearning she didn't quite understand. “Tuck?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know.” Claire's soft-spoken words hung in the air. He was quiet so long she wondered if he was still there. “Did you hear me?”

She heard him sniffle and realized he was sobbing. She pictured Tuck sitting in prison coming completely undone, and her heart thudded painfully.

“Listen to me,” she said, choosing her next words carefully. “I'll go for days without thinking about you, and my life will be full and satisfying. Then, when I least expect it, you show up again in my head and I realize I can't let go. So the way I figure, we'll make it through even this,” she said, struggling to make him understand her heart. “I only know one thing for sure. I'll always love you.”

“I—I love you too. With everything I am,” he choked out.

Then the phone buzzed and went dead.

55

O
n the morning before Christmas, Claire said goodbye to Garrett and Marcy and headed home to Dallas. The night before, she'd visited little Emmy Claire. “Oh, little sweet one. Grammy will be back to see you soon.” She caressed the bottoms of her granddaughter's feet, cementing the soft feel in her mind so she could carry the memory home.

Emmy Claire's prognosis was surprisingly bright. The cooling treatment had worked just as planned, and although the medical professionals would watch her closely in the years to come, Dr. Mathis claimed she had every reason to believe there would be no neurological deficit.

The news was a huge relief. Especially to Garrett and Marcy, who would enjoy Christmas while staying with Jack and Emily.

In Dallas, Jana Rae offered to host the holidays for both her brothers and Claire's family, including Claire's mother and her new boyfriend, a retired aeronautical engineer who had lost his wife ten years earlier.

“Where'd you find this one, Ellie?” Jana Rae asked when Claire's mom shared the news. She said she'd found his profile on Match.com and they'd instantly hit it off. Both Jana Rae and Claire suspected his generous pension was also a big hit.

Brian would spend Christmas Eve with his son. First he'd wanted to stop by for a few minutes. The doorbell rang right at the expected time.

Claire opened the door, dishcloth in hand. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Welcome home.”

She gave him a warm smile. “I admit, it was pretty hard leaving that little one, but it is good to be home.” She invited him in. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Nah, I only stopped by for a few. I'm picking up Trenton and we're heading to the airport for a quick ski trip to Aspen, my Christmas gift.” He glanced around. “Where's your mom?”

“Her
date
already picked her up.”

Brian slipped out of his jacket. “Her date?”

Claire explained about the online dating match. “And get this. They're talking about marrying this spring. She says she thinks a Vegas ceremony sounds like fun.” As soon as she mentioned marriage, she could've kicked herself. She turned abruptly and headed back into the kitchen. “What time does your flight leave?”

Brian moved to the counter and slid onto a barstool. “We're taking the red-eye. That way Trenton can have dinner with Carly and her mother tonight.”

Claire nodded, suddenly feeling very self-conscious around Brian. She was going to have to tell him, but not tonight. Not on Christmas Eve.

He reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out a tiny jewelry case wrapped in a silver bow, and slid it across to her. “Here, I wanted to give this to you.”

She frowned. “What? I thought we agreed no Christmas gifts.”

“It's not a Christmas gift, just something I wanted you to have.” He pushed the box closer. “Open it.”

Her hands tentatively reached for the small box.

Brian was a dear friend. She wanted—oh, she wasn't sure what she wanted. Except that she didn't want to hurt him.

With slightly trembling fingers, she untied the ribbon and lifted
the satin-covered lid. Inside, a small pendant featuring a tiny picture of Emmy Claire rested against white velvet. She looked up at him. “Oh, Brian. It's beautiful.”

“I had Garrett sneak in and take a phone shot for me,” he said, watching her closely.

She couldn't help herself. Her eyes started to well. She hurriedly blinked several times, clearing away her uncontrolled emotion.

Clearly she'd made a horrible mistake in not telling him earlier. Over the phone hadn't seemed appropriate, under the circumstances. But he deserved honesty from her now. She took a deep breath. “Brian, there's something—”

He lifted his finger and put it to her mouth. “Shh . . . I know.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“And I understand.” Brian stood and gently pulled the pendant from her hand. “Turn around,” he said, then placed the delicate chain around her neck and closed the clasp. “Here, let me see how it looks.”

She turned, not expecting to feel this much sorrow. She'd made the right decision, she knew. But Brian held part of her heart as well. “Thank you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “For everything.”

He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. “You're welcome, Claire. For everything.”

Claire pulled into Jana Rae's driveway and parked behind a shiny black Lincoln probably belonging to her mother's new beau. Jana Rae stood at the open doorway, waving wildly. “Get in here. You're missing all the fun.”

Inside, the party had definitely started without her. Clark gave her a quick hug and pushed a cup of eggnog into her hand. “Merry Christmas, Claire.”

She hugged him back. “Merry Christmas.”

Two little boys dressed in suits and ties raced past, yelling at the
top of their lungs. “Hey, you two. Pipe down,” Jana Rae called out as she pulled Claire into the living room where the crowd waited.

Claire looked over her shoulder and mouthed to Clark, “Who . . . ?”

He pointed to a young guy sitting next to Mike, looking a bit uncomfortable in what appeared to be a new dinner jacket.

Ah . . . Jay. Jana Rae's
other
brother.

Past the sofa, a beautifully decorated tree filled the corner of the room. The only thing bigger than the fresh spruce was the mountain of packages beneath.

Jana Rae slipped beside Claire and handed her a soda. “Afraid I'm just a gambler in front of a slot machine during the holidays—once I start, I can't seem to stop. Besides, Christmas only comes once a year.” She grinned and nodded at Jay's kids, still running through the house, then winked and stepped back. “Hey, y'all. Time for dinner. Let's head to the dining room.” She leaned toward Claire and whispered, “The Urologist cooked the turkey, so if the meat's on the dry side, you know who to blame.”

When they'd all gathered, Clark bowed his head and blessed the meal.

Claire looked around the table. Her mother positioned a linen napkin into her new friend's collar. When he patted her hand in appreciation, she beamed. She looked up then and caught Claire watching. Claire smiled ever so slightly. Her mother lifted her chin in response.

Across the table, Lainie chattered with Mike's little girls. For the first time since Tuck's arrest, her daughter looked genuinely happy.

Jay adjusted his tie. He told his boys to sit up straight and quit fidgeting or they wouldn't get to open presents later.

Max helped Clark bring in a platter carrying a turkey the size of a small suitcase, and Jana Rae followed with another platter filled with sliced ham.

Claire took a mental snapshot, stashing the images in her mind. Max carried himself differently now, with an air of maturity of the
man he'd become. She'd remember the contented look on Lainie's face, how her daughter seemed to have finally let go of striving for something always out of reach. She'd take the laughter and the good friends who stuck by her side no matter what—she'd wrap this and more and hide it all in the corner of her heart to share with Tuck. She'd carry these memories with her.

Margarita was right. God was indeed good.

Years from now, their family would sit at a holiday table similar to this, perhaps at Garrett and Marcy's house. Emmy Claire would have learned about all that had transpired this year. What would Claire tell her about it all when she asked?

She caught Max's attention and they smiled.

She supposed she'd tell Emmy Claire that the Masseys were a family who knew how one day could shift your course and catapult you into a series of events never intended to be lived. She'd explain that they'd all stumbled and lost their footing, but in the end they found their way—together.

Yes, they'd been rich. But at what cost?

And she'd make sure her granddaughter knew one more thing.

Claire Massey was still a woman of great fortune.