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Authors: Pamela Grandstaff

Daisy Lane (25 page)

BOOK: Daisy Lane
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“Grandpa?” Grace said, incredulously.

“Yes,” Mamie said. “He came to me when he turned 21 and his adopted father told him the truth. I didn’t believe him at first, because I was shocked and angry, you see, at being tricked so close to home. He disavowed the Rodefeffer family and I accepted it.”

“His father was Nino?” Grace said. “That man was my great-grandfather?”

“They paid him to go away, you know; after my father died, I hired a detective who found him living in Venice with his family, working in a glass factory there. He married a woman and they had many children. He’s dead now,” she said, and dabbed at some tears that gathered in her eyes. “Everyone is dead now. Everyone but me.”

“Nino,” Grace said. “You’re talking about the man who came to our house and died.”

“Yes,” Mamie said. “Haven’t you been listening?”

“Nino came for you?” Grace said. “He spoke Italian so I couldn’t understand him, but he was asking for Mary. Is your real name Mary?”

“Mary Margaret,” Mamie said. “My father liked to call me Mamie, after his mother.”

“Have you told Scott?” Grace said. “Scott’s been trying to reach his family to let them know he died.”

“This is no one’s business but my own,” Mamie said.

“He must have really loved you,” Grace said. “He came back for you.”

“Probably looking for money,” Mamie said.

The look she gave Grace was filled with contempt.

“He brought you the glass swan,” Grace said. “I’ll give it to you; it’s yours.”

“It might be worth something,” Mamie said. “You shouldn’t be so generous; other people will take advantage.”

“But it’s yours,” Grace said. “He loved you and he brought it to you.”

“He never loved me,” Mamie said.

“He must have,” Grace said. “He was so sad. His heart was broken; I could tell.”

“What could you know about it?” Mamie said sharply. “If he loved me, he wouldn’t have waited so long. If he loved me, he would have come back for me, for us. No, mark my word, he was down on his luck and hoping I’d be some sentimental old fool. Or he was after the boy’s trust fund.”

“There’s no trust fund,” Grace said. “I would have known about it.”

“Oh there’s a trust, alright,” Mamie said. “Your grandfather was notified of its existence when he turned 21. He may have refused it, but it exists. It’s yours now.”

Grace felt dizzy with this new information.

“Grace’s attorney will have to verify all of this,” Judge Feinman said. “Is there a birth certificate?”

“There are two,” Mamie said. “The real one and the one my father paid to have made when the Branduffs adopted him.”

“Why didn’t you do something?” Grace said. “You knew how poor we were; why didn’t you help us?”

“My son made it very clear that he didn’t want to have anything to do with me or my family’s money,” Mamie said. “He used very rude, offensive language.”

“I don’t believe it,” Grace said to the judge. “If there had been money, Grandma would still be alive. If Grandpa had money, he would not have let her die.”

“My son was a stubborn, angry, horrid little brat,” Mamie said. “It must have been Nino’s bloodline at fault; no Rodefeffer ever acted like that.”

The judge made a little choking noise but seemed to quickly recover.

“You can call the bank in Pittsburgh,” Mamie said. “As soon as they get the death certificate, they’ll transfer it all to you. Should be several million by now, I reckon. My lawyers can help you get it all sorted.”

“Grace has an attorney,” the judge said. “He’ll look into this for her.”

“There would have been statements mailed,” Mamie said. “That’s how I get them.”

“I found a letter,” Grace said. “It was with the will.”

“There would have been statements that were sent every quarter,” Judge Feinman said. “He may have destroyed them.”

“Why should this hold up what we’re doing today?” Grace asked the judge. “This is just about money.”

“You’re my heir,” Mamie said. “You’re my great-granddaughter.”

“But you don’t want me,” Grace said. “You don’t even like me.”

“You’re mine,” Mamie said. “I shall decide where you live and with whom you associate.”

“Is that true?” Grace asked Judge Feinman.

He sighed.

“Pending verification of the claim, we will have to consider any rights Mrs. Rodefeffer might have in regard to you.”

“No!” said Grace, jumping out of her chair. “It’s all decided. She can’t just come in here and change everything.”

Mamie stood up, shakily, to her full height, which was considerable. She looked down her nose at Grace through her thick lenses and said, “I can, and I have.”

 

 

Back at Kay’s house, Claire Fitzpatrick descended with baked goods and hugs. Grace couldn’t bear to stay in the room with so much sympathy, so she retreated to her bedroom and listened instead.

“Mamie’s a crazy old lady,” Claire said. “She probably just made the whole thing up.”

“She’s not fit to raise a child,” Kay said. “Anyone in that room would have been a better choice.”

“I know it’s your decision to make but I have to say, you two seem to fit,” Claire said. “She seems comfortable with you. She trusts you, I can tell.”

“I told her I wouldn’t lie to her or sugarcoat anything and I won’t,” Kay said. “I don’t want to give her a dark world view, it’s just that there’s so much bullshit to watch out for.”

“Look at it this way,” Claire said. “You’re preparing her to be independent and to use her common sense. If you just convince her she’s so special that everything must go her way and nothing bad can ever happen, you won’t be doing her any favors.”

“I just don’t know,” Kay said. “Maybe she would be happier with younger people, like Maggie and Scott. Maybe she needs a father and a mother. I’m worried I’ll cheat her out of something. This campaign is taking all my energy, and if Stuart and Peg decide to play dirty, it won’t be pretty.”

“Bottom line,” Claire said. “Do you want to be Grace’s mom?”

Kay paused and Grace realized she was holding her breath.

“Oh, I do,” Kay said. “I really do. Whether that’s rational or reasonable I don’t know. My grandmother always said what’s yours won’t pass you by, and I feel like Grace is mine somehow, that she’s here with me for a reason.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Claire said.

“Except now we’ve got Mamie to contend with,” Kay said. “She may have money but I don’t mind telling you I’ve got connections. I’m owed a lot of favors in this county and I plan to call in all of them. Everyone who knows that crazy old bat knows she’s too mean to raise a young girl, and there’s no jury in this county who would decide in her favor.”

“If you need any money,” Claire said, “for attorneys or anything, please let me know. I want to help and I can afford to.”

“Thanks,” Kay said. “We’re not going to let that mean old lady get our Grace.”

Grace could barely keep her eyes open and besides, she had heard all she needed to hear. With a contented smile she tiptoed back down the hall and slid into bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out. It was the most relaxing sleep she had had in days.

 

 

Scott sat in the front room of Maggie’s apartment, a beer in his hand, staring out the window. He was watching a cloud of starlings dipping and swirling in the sky above the Bijou Theater.

“Do you want some lunch?” she asked.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Maggie said. “I don’t have to go out to Hannah’s.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You don’t seem fine,” she said, and sat on the arm of his chair.

He pulled her down onto his lap and snuggled her neck, his arms wrapped around her.

“I can’t believe Mamie’s her great-grandmother,” Scott said. “I knew Mamie had something to do with Nino, that he was connected to her family in some way, but I never would have guessed Jacob Branduff was her son.”

“Well, he was mean and cold-hearted,” Maggie said. “And if you think about it, there was a resemblance. They had the same nose.”

“She will ruin Grace’s life if we let her.” Scott said. “She deserves so much better.”

“What did Judge Feinman say?”

“He said he couldn’t talk to me about it if he was going to stay involved.”

“Are you going to talk to Mamie?”

“It probably won’t do any good,” Scott said. “I thought I might get Doc to go with me. Maybe the two of us could talk some sense into her. She can’t really want to raise a teenager.”

“She just wants the money,” Maggie said. “Mamie’s broke.”

“That’s just hearsay,” Scott said. “We don’t know for sure.”

“She’s let go all her servants except her driver and housekeeper,” Maggie said. “Her checks are bouncing all over town and my mother recommended I start making her pay cash. That’s pretty good evidence.”

“I’d like to try reasoning with her first,” Scott said. “Even if it’s pointless.”

“I’m glad you’re taking Doc,” Maggie said. “At least you’ll have a witness.”

The phone rang and Maggie ran down the hall to answer it.

“I can’t talk long,” Hannah said when she answered. “Sam’s got Sammy in the tub and I’m on deck to read three books, and then rock him in the blue rocking chair while singing three songs. Consecutively, that is. Not all at the same time.”

“How’d you bribe him into the bath and a nap?”

“Well, he likes going to day care now that Aunt Delia is the teacher’s aide. I told him that his teacher is going to smell him every morning as he comes in, and if he’s stinky he will have to go to my mother’s house, which is a fate worse than bath time.”

“This is quite the change from him escaping from day care every day.”

“He loves his Aunt Delia,” Hannah said. “Plus this new teacher is awesome. She’s young and sparky. No kids of her own, which I think is key. Kids have a way of wearing you down and then out.”

Maggie got Hannah caught up on the Grace Branduff situation.

“So you think Scott’s obsessed with rescuing her because his mom just died?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s distracting him from his grieving, so maybe it’s a good thing.”

“Is it still bad?”

“He doesn’t know that I know this, but he gets up in the middle of the night, goes into the bathroom and cries.”

“Bless his little heart,” Hannah said. “I wanna rock him in the blue rocker and sing him three songs, maybe four.”

“I know,” Maggie said. “It breaks my heart.”

“How long will this go on, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “I don’t know how long it takes to grieve losing a parent; a long time, probably.”

“Maybe he could talk to Father Stephen.”

“I’m afraid he’ll get even more religious than he already is,” Maggie said. “I don’t think I could tolerate it.”

“Is he still quoting scripture?”

“Like a Baptist deacon,” Maggie said.

“Maybe it will pass,” Hannah said. “Like Chicken Pox.”

“Oh my gosh,” Maggie said. “I can hear Sammy howling. What’s going on?”

“Getting his hair washed,” Hannah said. “I better go. Hey, bring some chips and pretzels with you when you come. Oh, and I ordered four large pizzas; you need to pick those up on the way.”

“Anything else?” Maggie asked. “A sheet cake or three?”

“I’ll let you know.”

As soon as Maggie hung up the phone rang again. It was Kay.

When she hung up and came back down the hallway she was flushed with anger.

“That was Kay,” she said. “Mamie served papers on Kay demanding that Grace be transferred into her custody tonight. She had the state police and her attorneys there. Judge Feinman says there is nothing he can do about it tonight.”

As Scott stood up, she could sense the anger build in his body so that he had to clench and unclench his fists in order to contain it.

“She doesn’t care anything about that girl,” Scott said. “I’m going up there.”

“Talk to Doc first,” Maggie said. “I know I’m a poor one to suggest this but calm down before you go up there. Have a plan.”

“You’re right,” Scott said. “I’ll go over to Doc’s.”

“Call me at Hannah’s when you get done,” Maggie said.

“We can’t let her get away with this,” Scott said.

“I know,” Maggie said. “I’ll put Hannah on it; she’s just devious enough to come up with something.”

 

 

“Sammy’s asleep,” Hannah said. “After four books and three songs he had the nerve to say he likes the way Claire sings better. Then he rolled over and fell asleep.”

“The truth is sometimes hard to hear,” Maggie said.

“I can’t help it if I have such an amazing natural talent,” Claire said.

Hannah flicked condensation off her bottle of beer toward Maggie and Claire, who laughed and ducked. The three were seated on Hannah’s front porch, with pizza boxes and snack bags all around them.

BOOK: Daisy Lane
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