Fool Me Once (18 page)

“She's buried in the back under an oak tree. She used to sit out there sometimes in the summer and read. Brutus would sit with her. Sometimes she'd read aloud to him. The dog liked her. She didn't want a tombstone. She thought gravestones were macabre. I carved a small cross at the base of the tree. Moss grows there now. Brutus won't even go near the tree. He will stand on the periphery and stare. He does that a lot in the winter. I don't know why. She had a hard time trying to decide if she should be cremated or buried. She finally decided on burial. She knew no one from the outside world would be coming to…visit or pay their respects. Brutus and I stop by every day.”

Well, she'd asked the question. It didn't mean she had to like the answer.

Olivia was relieved when they reached the cleared parking area by the garage. As she got out of the car, the cold biting at her cheeks made her anxious to get indoors.

“She was afraid, you know. There at the end. The whole year, really.”

Olivia snorted, an ugly sound. “Don't try to con me, Mr. Somers. The woman didn't have a bone of fear in her body. Trust me when I tell you she wasn't who you thought she was. She wasn't really Adrian Ames, either, but then I suspect you already know that.”

“You're wrong, miss. She was scared out of her wits. I saw her cry when she thought no one was watching. I took care of her.”

“Well, Mr. Somers, you have your opinion of her, and I have my opinion. I'm sure we're never going to see eye to eye on Adrian Ames.”

“God forgives all his children. If He can do it, why can't you?” the old man growled. “Do you want to go through the rest of your life feeling bitterness and hatred? It's such a wasted emotion.”

Olivia shed her coat and walked over to the coffeepot. She reached for two cups and proceeded to pour. Brutus dropped to his haunches and stretched out by one of the heating vents. She sat down across the table from Cyrus Somers. “Tell me about Adrian Ames. Don't gild the lily, either. All I want is the truth as you know it.”

Cyrus cupped his hands around the mug of coffee in his hands. “At first I didn't like her. Not even a little bit. She was what my generation would call hoity-toity. None of the staff liked her, either. She was very demanding. There in the beginning I was taking the help back to town and bringing someone new on almost a daily basis. One woman, a cook who came highly recommended, really told her off when Miz Ames fired her. The cook got the others heated up, and they quit, too. My ears burned with the name-calling. For almost a year we had no help. I was doing everything. Your mother didn't know how to deal with people. She thought if she paid them well, she could treat them like dirt. I had to explain that to her by threatening to quit myself. Finally, she managed to get some domestic help from Jamaica. They were here till the end. She was very generous in her bequests to all of them. All four of them cried when I buried her.”

Olivia stared at the old man over the rim of her coffee cup.

Cyrus drained his own cup and said, “She came to depend on me, and we formed a friendship. She allowed me to speak my mind on just about anything. Once she was comfortable with that trust, she started to ask my opinions about her business, what products to buy at various trade shows. She used to test dog products on Brutus. If he took to it, she'd order it. If not, she scratched it, whatever it was.

“One time, years and years ago, she casually mentioned that she had a daughter. She said she'd never seen you. At that time I didn't ask any questions. Later, the year you turned sixteen, she started showing me reports some detective agency sent her on you and your father. She asked me what I thought of your pictures. I told her I thought you were a pretty young lady. She agreed, and said she was glad you didn't look like her. That's when she told me she gave you up to your father because he would give you a good life. She said she wasn't mother material. She looked me right in the eye, and said, ‘Cyrus, I'm not a nice, loving person. Dennis is a nice, loving person, and a child needs a nice, loving person to raise her. It was probably the best thing I ever did in my life, but Olivia will never view it that way. I'm sure Dennis hates me. But, Cyrus, look, just look at the superb job he's done with Olivia. I know Dennis must be proud of her. I sent money and gifts over the years, through my lawyer, but Dennis always sent them back. I could never understand that. He wouldn't accept a dime. For some reason, that pleased me,' she said. ‘That's when I knew I did the right thing for all of us.'”

Olivia shrugged, not liking what she was hearing. Her features showed her disgust.

“She always sent the money and gifts twice a year, your birthday and Christmas. She attended your high school graduation and your college graduation. I know this for a fact because I was with her. She stayed out of the way. She just wanted to see you. When you walked across the stage to accept your diploma, she squeezed my hand so hard, I thought she broke my fingers.”

Olivia hated hearing such nice things about Adrian Ames. She wanted to hear mean, ugly things, so her hatred would be justified.

Cyrus got up to replenish their coffee cups. “I only ever heard your mother laugh aloud once in all the years I knew her. I don't think she ever smiled, either. But she did laugh once when I fetched her your first calendar, the one with the dogs. She never hung the calendar but kept it in her desk. I saw her looking at it many times. She said you had a good eye.”

Olivia licked her dry lips. “Did Adrian ever tell you where she got the money to start up her mail-order business?”

Cyrus leaned across the table. “She told me she robbed a bank. At first I thought she was joking. She told me shortly after she got her final medical diagnosis. I can't tell you how relieved she looked after she told me. She knew she could trust me.”

Olivia was stunned at the old man's reply. “Did she tell you about her cohorts in crime? Jill and Gwen?”

“She told me everything. She also said she was making provisions in her will for the money to be paid back to the bank. She said she had lost touch with both women. She said that was probably a good thing. The bank robbery and her two friends weren't important to your mother during the last year of her life. She concentrated on getting through the days, one at a time. She did say that if she had one wish, that wish would have been to talk to you at least once.”

“Thirty-four years too late,” Olivia snapped.

“During the last six months, I paid the household bills for your mother, and that included the phone bill. There were numerous calls to your home phone number in Winchester, Virginia. I suspect, but I never asked outright, that she did call and that when she heard your voice, she hung up. If you think back, I'm sure you'll recall a series of wrong numbers or hangups.”

Olivia fiddled with the handle of the cup clutched in her hands. She did remember a series of calls with someone listening but not speaking on the other end of the line. “Guilt does strange things to people. I'd appreciate if you'd stop referring to Adrian Ames as my mother. She was not a mother in any way. A person has to earn that title. Giving birth simply doesn't cut it.”

“You have to let your bitterness go. She tried to make things right in the end. That has to count for something. Did your father ever tell you anything about your…about Miz Ames' past?”

“No. He said she died. Period. There was nothing to talk about. I don't think he knew about her past. When he visited me a week ago, we talked, and he didn't say anything.”

“She didn't have a good life. Shiftless parents, father was a drinker, mother was…a…a lady of the evening. They lived in a trailer with no heat in the winter. She had to scrounge for food. She told me one of the neighbors, a kindly old lady, always gave her a bath on Saturday night. Her clothes came from the Salvation Army. She left the trailer when she was fourteen and made her own way by working as a waitress. She had…she had several benefactors along the way, and I don't think I have to spell out to you what that meant. With all that going on in her life, she somehow kept up with her studies. Her dream was to go to college and make something of herself. She had a good work ethic during those years. She told me she graduated summa cum laude.”

“And the bank robbery was her reward for studying hard during those four years,” Olivia snarled.

“Something like that. She did say the owner of the bank was involved in some sort of shenanigans with a few of his banking friends. She was worried about the insurance company, though, during the early years because Mr. Augustus and his friends had insured those bonds. That's one of the reasons she changed her name and turned reclusive. That's all I can tell you, unless you have any questions.”

Did she have questions? “Did she ever say anything specific about my father?”

“Only that he was a good person. She never said a bad word about him. He was beyond excited about your birth. He wanted a lot of children, she said. She did tell me she married your father to get out of the area, away from the bank and the insurance company. A new name, that kind of thing. Then she changed her name again when she divorced your father. She professed amazement that the three of them got away with it so cleanly. Yet she was always looking over her shoulder, waiting for someone to tap her on the back and cart her off to jail. Miz Ames wasn't a happy person. This is just my opinion, but I don't think she knew how to be happy. All that money, all that success, all her possessions didn't help in that department one bit.”

Olivia had heard enough. “I'm going to go through the house, Mr. Somers. I'm going to remove all the dust covers. I don't know why, but I want to get a feel for the house she lived in. I'm not sure yet, but I might spend the night.”

“Do you want me to stay and help you?”

“No, Mr. Somers, this is something I need to do myself.”

“Well, if you need me, just call me on my cell phone. I'll keep it on.”

“Do you by any chance know the name of the insurance company that insured the bonds?”

“Great Rock of Mississippi.”

“Thanks.”

T
here was a frenzy to Olivia's movements as she raced through Adrian Ames's house, ripping at the sheets covering the windows and furniture. She tossed them onto a pile in the middle of the floor. She was breathless by the time she unveiled the entire downstairs. She lowered her head to take deep, gulping breaths as she looked around at the chaos she'd created.

Did Adrian decorate this house, or did some professional designer do it? Everything looked costly, elegant. Olivia was reminded of a movie set, where everything was positioned perfectly, and everything shouted dollar amounts. Silk, satin, brocade, gilt. She assumed the area carpets were Persian.

Looking around for something personal, she found nothing—no photographs, no mementos of travel to a place one wanted to remember. She walked over to the fireplace. It looked like it had been scrubbed clean with a brush. No cozy fires had been laid there. She tested a sofa. It was so firm, so stiff, she knew no one had ever sat on its gold brocade.

Olivia stood, hands on hips, looking around, hoping she would gain some kind of insight into what she was seeing. The best she could come up with was that this was about as far as you could come from living in a rusty trailer with no heat and less than caring parents.

Her feet lagging, Olivia retraced her steps to the kitchen and the room-sized pantry she'd seen earlier. She knew before she checked the pantry that she would find a virtual grocery store. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling shelves were packed with canned goods and boxed products. The freezer was filled to capacity. She'd bet her life it held a side of beef, packaged and labeled. She was proved right when she opened the lid. Adrian Ames had no intention of starving. Someone who'd had to scrounge for food in her teenage years would make sure that never happened again.

Olivia made a mental note to have Cyrus check the expiration dates on the packages. If they hadn't expired, she would have him take them to a local food kitchen to feed the homeless. She closed the door on the way out. She didn't want to look at this room. She didn't want to stand in it, either.

In the middle of the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks to pull out her cell phone. She called Cyrus's cell. “I have another question, Mr. Somers. When Ms. Ames's lawyer turned over a letter she had written to me, my baby bracelet was in the envelope. Do you happen to know where she got it? It was my understanding she never wanted to see me when I was born. If that's true, where did she get the bracelet?”

The old man's voice sounded even more gruff on the phone. “She told me she asked the nurse to get it for her the day you were to be taken home. What she said was she wanted a memento of the horrible experience of giving birth. She told me she had no desire to see you. Does that answer your question, miss?”

“Yes, it does, Mr. Somers. Thank you.”

Eyes dry, jaw tight, Olivia made her way through the house to the beautiful carved, circular staircase. She hated walking on the taped-down brown paper. The sounds her shoes made were just as bad as fingernails scratching a blackboard.

Olivia stomped her way down the hall, ripping at the cotton and plastic sheets covering the hallway furniture. She backtracked to the end of the hall to tackle the guest rooms. She assumed they were guest rooms, since Adrian Ames had lived alone. Where did the Jamaican servants live? She whipped out her cell phone a second time and asked Cyrus Somers.

The voice that sounded like it was mixed with gravel and molasses said, “Miz Ames converted the original garage to make it into a four-bedroom carriage house. The building has a kitchen, two full baths, a large living room with a big-screen TV. The four women were cousins and wanted to be together. You can see the building from Miz Ames's sitting-room window. It's just beyond my cottage. Is there anything else, miss?”

“No. Thank you.”

Olivia shrugged as she yanked at the sheets and plastic covering the furniture, paintings, and drapes in the four guest bedrooms. All four rooms were bright and cheerful, with vibrant colors. Feminine and frilly. Beautifully decorated. The color scheme of each guest room was carried out in the adjoining bathrooms. There were no hanging towels, but there were thick, thirsty towels that matched the bedcoverings in the linen closets. Olivia shrugged again. It was all for show. She couldn't grasp the point of it all.

She was in her mother's suite of rooms. The painter's plastic she and Jeff had removed on their first visit was still lying in crumpled heaps on the floor. She removed the rest of it and looked around.

These rooms were lived in. Adrian Ames's lair. The furniture in the sitting room was neutral in tone, deep and comfortable. The wheat-colored draperies were thick and lined and went all the way to the floor. An ottoman sat at the foot of an oversize chair. Adrian must have liked to put her feet up when she watched television. Olivia looked around for a stereo system but didn't see one. Maybe Adrian didn't like music.

The moment Olivia settled herself behind Adrian's desk, her cell phone chirped to life. She broke into a smile when she heard Jeff's voice. She thought his voice sounded shy but warm. She hoped her own voice matched his in warmth. “How are you?” she asked.

“Tired. I really wanted to get out to Winchester last night but couldn't make it. When I got back to the office I was dead on my feet. I meant to call when I got home, but I sat down, closed my eyes, and didn't wake up till this morning. What's going on? Anything new?”

Olivia brought him up to date. “I'm sitting here in her office. I'm going to copy her files onto a CD-ROM and take them home with me. I was prepared to spend the night, but that idea is waning. I think I just might take the whole computer with me and do it all at home.” Her voice turned shy when she said, “I'd rather spend the night with you. If you're serious about coming out to the house, pick up dinner. I'll pack up everything from here and head on home. How's the weather?”

“It's raining now, but it's melting a lot of that ugly black ice. Okay, I'll see you this evening. Is Cecil okay?”

“Cecil is fine. I'll see you this evening.”

The cell phone still in her hand, Olivia called Cyrus Somers one more time. “I'm going to be taking some things with me. Can you find me some boxes so I can pack up what I want to take?”

An hour later, the cargo hold of Olivia's Bronco was full of cartons as well as Adrian's computer. She'd cleaned everything out of the safe and the desk drawers. What she'd hoped to find was a mystery to her.

Olivia shook hands with the caretaker and scratched Brutus behind the ears as she prepared to climb into the Bronco. “Mr. Somers, you don't have to retire or leave here if you don't want to. I'd like you to stay on if you're up to it. The estate will continue to pay your salary. You don't have to give me your answer right now. Think about it and get back to me when you can. You have my home phone number.” Olivia wasn't sure, but she thought she saw relief in the old man's eyes. He nodded as she slipped the Bronco into gear and drove away.

It was four o'clock when Olivia realized she was starved. She cruised into the parking lot behind Kosco's, parked the Bronco in front of the Sleep Inn, and headed for the Daily Grind Coffee Shop, where she ordered a large coffee and a sandwich. She could have eaten more, but Jeff would be bringing dinner so there was no point in stuffing herself now. She liked eating with Jeff and talking about everything and nothing.

Olivia was home forty minutes later. She debated carrying in the boxes, but it was raining. Maybe Jeff could do it later. He needed to earn that dollar she'd paid him. She grinned at the idea. She really liked the guy. No, no, that was wrong—she was falling in love with Jeff Bannerman.

Inside the house, she paid the dog-sitter and played with the dogs for a while. They refused to go outside in the rain, so she put down pee pads by the door.

Olivia popped open a soft drink to carry into the great room, where she searched for the portable phone that was, as usual, between the cushions on the cocoa-colored sofa. She called her father, her foot tapping on the floor as she waited for him to click on his cell phone. The moment she heard his voice, she laced into him, her voice angry. “Why didn't you ever tell me your ex-wife, the woman who gave birth to me, sent presents to me? Why did you send them back? How did you even know they were from
her?
Dammit, Dad, why did you lie to me?”

He didn't hedge. He didn't try to wiggle out of the question. “What would have been the point, Ollie? You thought your mother was dead. They were sent from a law firm. Who else could they have been from?”

Olivia's foot was tapping so furiously, the dogs stopped what they were doing to watch this strange behavior. “Why didn't you tell me when this all came to light? Why did you continue to keep me in the dark? I had a right to know, Dad. I don't know if I can forgive you for that.”

“Ollie…I know you want me to say I'm sorry, but I can't do that, even for you, Ollie. Look at what you're going through right now. This is what I never wanted to happen. As cruel as it is, she didn't want you, Ollie. She said so, to me, to the nurses, to the lawyers she had there waiting for me, hours after you were born. For God's sake, the woman robbed a damn bank to get what she wanted. Those gifts she sent were guilt gifts. She knew where you and I lived, otherwise how could she have had her lawyers send those gifts? If she wanted to see you, she could have stopped by at any time. If she had done that, Ollie, I wouldn't have turned her away. It was her choice.” After a pause, he added, “When are you going to be done with this mess?” Frost dripped from his voice.

“I don't know,” Olivia snapped.

“I don't much care for your attitude, young lady. If you have more to say, say it now. I have no desire to go through this every few days. I can't change the past. In fact, even if I could, I wouldn't. I gave you a good life, Ollie, a damn good life, and you know it.”

“Well, guess what, Dad, I don't much care for the way you lied to me all these years. I think I have a good reason to have a bad attitude, as you call it. I think we should hang up now before one of us says something we'll regret.” Olivia knew her father was angry when the connection was ended without a good-bye. She burst into tears.

Pacing around the great room, stopping only to wipe at her drippy eyes and nose, she thought,
It isn't fair
.
I didn't ask for this
. And there was no way she could make it all go away. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I want my life back! I want to stew and worry about my calendars. I want to budget my money and know when I can or cannot buy something. I want to live here with my dogs, my work, and, most of all, I want to have a relationship with Jeff. Can You hear me?” When there was no response from the ceiling, Olivia threw herself on the sofa and bawled her eyes out, all the while telling herself she was going to have red, puffy eyes when Jeff arrived.

Later, when Jeff got there, he took one look at the miserable woman standing in front of him and took her in his arms. He crooned words of sympathy as the dogs crowded around his legs.

“You're a lawyer, Jeff. I paid you a retainer. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to handle this. That…that woman has, in death, done more damage than she did in life. My dad is angry with me. In a way, I don't blame him. He thinks he's right. Then, there's
her,
reaching beyond the grave to turn what we had to ruins. Am I wrong to feel like this? It's never going to be the same again, is it? Maybe that's what I can't accept,” Olivia said, sobbing.

“We'll talk later,” Jeff said soothingly. “By the fire, with a nice glass of wine. Right now, though, I'm really hungry. I brought Italian. Spaghetti and meatballs in a garlic lemon sauce from Mama and Papa's. The best Italian restaurant in the District of Columbia. Wait a minute! I did bring it—where is it?” he said, looking around.

“Did you set it down?” Olivia asked.

“Yes. Oh no!” Together, they raced into the great room. Four defiant furry little faces gazed up at Olivia and Jeff as much as to say, “It was past supper time, what did you expect?” Then they started to lick each other's whiskers. Plastic containers littered the great room. “Guess they don't like spaghetti. They just ate the meatballs.” In spite of himself, Jeff was laughing. Olivia joined in the laughter as she helped Jeff clean up the mess the dogs had created.

The dogs raced off to hide under the bed when Olivia started to wag her finger in front of them.

“Shame on all of you.”

“I like scrambled eggs.” Jeff guffawed. “Do dogs do stuff like this a lot?”

“Yeah. They're like little kids. Did you see how defiant and guilty they looked?” Both of them burst out laughing again. Suddenly, Olivia felt a hundred percent better.

The following morning, as Olivia was struggling to hook up Adrian Ames's computer, Dennis Lowell was waiting in the marina office for his FedEx delivery. He alternated between pacing and talking to a wizened old man with skin baked to a rich mahogany color. It also looked dryer than shoe leather. He had no idea what the old man was talking about, and he responded with absentminded grunts. He sighed with relief when he saw the red, white, and blue FedEx truck drive into the parking lot. He had to fight with himself not to run out to the truck.