Letting Go (9 page)

“And I’m here to help you get ready.”

“For what?”

“For your stay here, of course,” she responded as she wrote something else down.

“I don’t understand.”

Julia snapped her notebook closed and went to the closet. She threw it open and scanned the contents. “Uh hum, just as I thought.”

Irritated beyond reason, Casey gave her a tight frown. Julia didn’t seem to notice and said, “Okay, say you’re going to the opera and then a late night dinner. What are you going to wear?”

Casey couldn’t believe it. The obnoxious woman was actually quizzing her on proper fashion etiquette? She didn’t give a rat’s ass about the opera. Hoping the woman would leave if she humored her, Casey went to the closet and pulled out a pair of khaki slacks and a knit sweater. The woman had the audacity to shake her head disapprovingly.

“That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t show up in public looking like that.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Miss Wilkes… Casey, Mr. Prescott is a powerful man and has an image that needs to be maintained. You are going to be a part of that image so we need to make a few changes.”

“Julia, I don’t think you understand the situation…” She stopped when Julia flipped open her notebook and wrote something else. “Now what?”

“How do you feel about bonding?”

“Bonding?”

“Yeah, your teeth – having them bonded. You’ll need to do a lot of smiling.”

Casey stared at her in disbelief for a moment before she tossed the clothes on the bed and strode from the room.

***

The words on the laptop’s screen in front of him kept blending together no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes. Leaning back against the couch, Devlin closed his eyes. He remembered his earlier days when a couple hours of sleep each night had been a motivator, not a detriment. But things had been different back then. He’d been different. His only goal had been to get to the top. He was there now but to his surprise, there was no place else to go. Corporate takeovers had lost their luster and the endless profits no longer held the same triumph as they had before. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. He almost laughed out loud at the realization. He, Devlin Prescott, self-made multi-millionaire, founder and head of a Fortune 500 firm, and elbow rubber of New York’s most elite, was at a loss as to what to do next.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the dog lying at his feet. Sampson had followed Mrs. Potter into the room when she had delivered her signature tea and biscuits. Since he wasn’t a big tea drinker, he had never understood the ritual but assumed it had something to do with Mrs. Potter’s English background. Rather than question her, he usually just took a sip or two of the weak black tea and occasionally forced a biscuit down. Devlin studied the dog for a moment and then reached for a biscuit. Sampson sat up at the motion and watched him with open curiosity. Devlin glanced over his shoulder at the door to make sure it was closed and then placed a biscuit on the dog’s head. “Wait,” he ordered as he removed his hand. He reached for the dog’s ear and gave it a tug. A deep laugh rippled through him as the dog flipped the biscuit in the air and caught it in his huge jaws. As he was giving the dog an affectionate pat, the door to his study burst open. He dropped his hand and turned to see Casey closing the door right in Julia’s face.

“Call her off,” she said as she leaned against the door.

“What?”

Julia forced open the door and pushed her way through. “I’m sorry Mr. Prescott. We were just going over a few things.”

“Call her off now!” interrupted Casey.

“Julia, why don’t you wait in the living room?” he suggested.

“Of course.”

When she was gone, Casey whirled on him and exclaimed, “She was talking about having my teeth bonded.”

Devlin stifled a chuckle at her outraged expression and reached for his jacket. “Julia’s sort of an overachiever.”

“She’s a freaking psycho!”

“She’s just doing her job,” he remarked as he went to his desk.

“Do you have any more surprises for me?”

“Julia’s just going to help you pick out a few new clothes.”

“I’m comfortable in my own clothes,” she replied stubbornly.

“Jeans and a sweatshirt aren’t going to cut it in court or at the children’s hospital dinner.”

Case was silent for a moment before saying, “fine but on one condition.”

***

The combination of weekend shoppers and people trying to escape the snow made the department store a beehive of activity. Outside one of the dressing rooms, Julia Matthews fidgeted nervously. Inside the room, Casey was pulling on a dress that she didn’t even want to know the price of. She glanced over the top of the door at Julia and smiled. Her one condition was proving to be more entertaining than she had hoped.

“Would you stop that?” she said to Julia who kept tapping the fingers of one empty hand against the palm of the other empty hand.

“Stop what?” Julia asked.

“It’s paper held together by a little glob of glue. One day without it won’t kill you.”

“Being organized is not a sin.”

Casey opened the door and showed her the dress. Pale green with too many ruffles, it did nothing for her. Julia shook her head as she studied the dress and then went to a nearby rack where an overzealous sales woman had placed an assortment of dresses in Casey’s size.

“What is it that Devlin does?” asked Casey.

“He’s a Venture Capitalist.”

“And that means what exactly?”

Julia thought about it for a moment and then said, “Basically he spends money to make himself and a lot of other people more money.”

“That’s it?”

Surprised that the young woman wasn’t impressed, Julia said, “Yeah, that’s it.” She pulled a black dress from the rack and handed it to Casey. “Try this one.”

Casey stared at the dress longingly for a moment and then shook her head. “No, I can’t. Nothing backless.”

“Why not?”

Casey turned and went back into the dressing room. “Please Julia, just find something else.”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded as she returned the dress to the rack and continued her search.

***

The next two hours went by in a blur and by the time it was over, Casey had several shopping and garment bags to show for the effort. Much of the trip had been spent arguing over the amount of expensive clothes Julia wanted to purchase for her as well as the three hundred dollar haircut which Casey actually only allowed to be a hair trim. To spite the overeager woman who had lasted only twenty minutes without her precious notebook, Casey, upon leaving the beauty parlor, had immediately pinned her long hair up into a pile on her head with a cheap plastic clip. By the time Julia’s car came to a stop in the driveway, both women were worn out. Before Casey could even contemplate the long walk up the stairs with all her heavy bags, the two maids that had served the meal the night before appeared and quickly dispensed of the job.

It wasn’t even four o’clock yet and she was exhausted from the day’s events.  When she entered the room and saw all the shopping bags, she let out a sigh of dread. In no mood to unpack everything, she turned to leave the room but stopped when she saw a book on the edge of the bed. Turning it over, she saw that it was the book she’d been reading in Devlin’s study.

After Julia had provided him with a status report on her shopping trip with Casey, Devlin had gone to her room to see how she was faring but had been surprised to find it empty. She hadn’t even bothered to unpack any of the clothes. Any other woman would have been fawning over her new clothes, especially considering the amount of money he had apparently spent on them. Not Casey. In fact, as he was leaving the room he heard her voice coming from outside. He went to the window. She and Ryan were in the midst of a snowball fight with Sampson doing duty as Ryan’s shield. A feeling of warmth shot through him as he watched them play. The smile on Ryan’s face and the laughter that bubbled up from his throat were foreign to Devlin.

Ryan’s mother had never held much interest in her only child and Devlin had been too busy pursuing his dream of making it to pay either of them any attention. Not surprisingly, Ryan had grown into a quiet little boy who had trouble making friends at school and often spent his days tucked away in his room by himself. It had been Amanda who had changed him. The warmth and love she had for her daughter had spilled over to his son. He had opened like a flower under care. But witnessing her brutal murder had left a mark on him that he would probably never be free of. Plagued with nightmares, Ryan was afraid to leave the house and getting him to ride in a car was impossible. Unable to send his son back to school in his volatile condition, Devlin had been forced to hire a tutor. Not knowing what else to do for his son, Devlin had consented to the fact that Ryan might never be like other children – he’d simply witnessed too much already in his short life. But he felt a burst of hope spread through him as he watched Casey at play with the little boy. Maybe the effect she was having on him would last after she left.

Devlin watched them for another moment before he left the room and made his way down the stairs. The doorbell rang as he neared the front door. He pulled it open to reveal a screaming Isabel in Janine Thompson’s arms. The flustered court officer shoved the child at him.

“What the hell happened?” he asked as he closed his arms around the little girl’s trembling body.

“She slipped on some ice as we were leaving the zoo. She hasn’t stopped crying since.”

Casey appeared in the hallway, her snow covered jacket in her hands. Ryan and Mrs. Potter were behind her.

“What happened?” Casey asked as she hurried to Devlin’s side. Devlin handed Isabel over to her and then disappeared outside, closing the door behind him. He turned on the woman, fury blazing in his eyes.

“What do you mean, she slipped?”

“She was running ahead of us as we were leaving and she slipped and fell.”

Devlin looked up to see Elliot and Caroline sitting in their car which was parked at the end of the walkway. The car was running. His eyes moved to the car right behind theirs. It too was running. He shot Janine a sharp look. “Whose car is that?”

Janine looked over her shoulder at the car he was pointing to. “It’s mine.”

“Yours? You mean you took separate cars?”

“We thought it would be easier…”

“Who did Isabel ride with?” he asked her, his loud voice carrying across the yard.

“Dr. and Mrs. Dane of course.” At her words, Devlin pushed past her and strode towards Elliot and Caroline’s car.

“What the hell did you do to her?” he shouted. Caroline smiled victoriously before turning her eyes forward. The car took off before Devlin could reach it. “Son of a bitch!”

Janine hurried to her car but Devlin wasn’t about to let her off that easy. “Is that what you call supervised?”

“It’s a twenty minute drive Mr. Prescott.”

Comprehension hit him hard. “You don’t watch them the whole time, do you?”

“Mr. Prescott…”

“Jesus, you don’t watch them.” He paced back and forth a couple of times while the reality of the situation sank in. “Did you see her fall?” he asked quietly although his tone was lethal.

“What?”

He whirled on her. “Did. You. See. Her. Fall?” he bit out.

Flustered, Janine looked around her as if seeking help. “Mr. Prescott, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.”

Forcing his fisted hands to remain at his sides, Devlin closed the distance between them. “Ms. Thompson, did you see Isabel fall?”

She swallowed nervously as she muttered, “Well no, actually. I had a phone call…”

Devlin let out a string of curses as he turned away from her and went back to the house.

“They’re her grandparents for God’s sake.” Her remark was met with the slamming of the front door.

***

As Devlin entered the house, his eyes immediately began searching for Isabel. Mrs. Potter was standing near the stairs, her arms resting protectively on Ryan’s shoulders. His eyes were wet with tears of fear and confusion. “Upstairs,” said Mrs. Potter quietly. Devlin dropped a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder as he hurried past, taking the stairs two at a time.

He found them in Isabel’s room. Casey was sitting in the rocking chair in the corner with Isabel still clinging to her. The child had quieted but her cheeks were still wet and she was sucking on her thumb; a habit he had never seen her do before. Casey was gently rocking the chair back and forth and her hand was stroking Isabel’s hair. Sampson was sitting next to the chair, his tall frame putting his head in contact with the fingers of Isabel’s free hand.

Devlin entered the room slowly as if he was afraid he would startle the child but Isabel didn’t even seem to notice. Her gaze was empty. Kneeling in front of Casey, he saw that she too had been crying and a tortured look like he had never seen was written into every line of her face. When his eyes connected with hers, she used the hand stroking Isabel’s hair to pull the blonde curls away from the side of the child’s head. A small trail of partially dried blood was hidden just behind the ear. At the top of the thin line of blood was a small gash.

Devlin dropped his eyes and forced his raging emotions under control. He would only frighten Isabel more if he gave in to his instincts to put his fist through the wall. Adjusting himself so Isabel could see him, he said, “Izzy, honey, we’re gonna go visit Dr. Bob, okay?” She didn’t seem to hear him so he touched her lightly on the arm. Her eyes focused on him.

“Can Miss Wilkes come?” she asked.

Relief surged through him at the sound of her fragile voice. “Yeah, she’s gonna come.”

“Sampson too?”

“Sampson too.”

“Okay,” she said.

***

Casey clung tightly to Isabel’s coat from her position in the corner of the examining room. The little girl was sitting on top of the paper covered exam bed, her attention focused on the skinny man in front of her. In his early thirties, Dr. Bob acted more like a circus clown instead of a pediatrician. He’d been examining the little girl for several minutes and had stopped several times to make her an animal balloon and perform magic tricks. As a result, Isabel was smiling from ear to ear. Casey’s eyes slid to Devlin who was standing next to the child, his stiff form the only evidence of his continued rage.

“Okay Izzy, how many fingers am I holding up?” asked Dr. Bob.

“Four.”

Dr. Bob looked at his fingers and gave her a quizzical look. “Are you sure?” At her nod, he tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Are you really, really sure?”

“Yes,” laughed Isabel.

“Well, let’s just find out, shall we?” Dr. Bob counted out loud slowly. When he reached three, he looked at Isabel for help.

“Four,” she announced.

“Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding…Nurse Bea, show her what she’s won please,” he declared in a game show announcer voice. The nurse handed Isabel a sucker as Dr. Bob motioned to Devlin and Casey.

“Isabel, we’ll be back in just a couple of minutes, okay?” Devlin said. At her nod, he left the room.

Dr. Bob led the quiet pair into his office and motioned for them to sit. The clown was gone and in his place was a serious, professional physician.

“I’m going to take some x-rays to be sure, but there doesn’t appear to be any internal bleeding or swelling. You’ll need to make sure she stays in bed for the next twenty-four hours but don’t let her sleep right away when you get home.  I don’t think it’s a concussion but go ahead and wake her every few hours tonight just to be on the safe side.” Casey and Devlin were both visibly relieved.

“They said she fell on some ice,” Devlin said.

“She has some abrasions on her hands to indicate that she did try and break her fall but the positioning and size of the wound aren’t consistent with hitting her head. What did Isabel say about it?”

“She doesn’t know how it happened,” responded Casey.

Dr. Bob nodded his head. “I’ll take some pictures and put my findings in writing for you but I wouldn’t count on it too much. They’ll bring in twenty other doctors to dispute me. And with no witnesses…” It wasn’t necessary for him to finish the thought. “I’ll do the x-rays and use some skin glue to close the wound. There will probably be a small scar but her hair will hide it. You can take her home in about twenty minutes or so.”

Once he left the room, Devlin stood and paced back and forth several times. “I’ll kill him.”

“It wasn’t him.” Devlin looked at her but she was staring straight ahead. “It was her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I can’t use my hair to hide the scar she gave me.” When his gaze shifted to the scar on her cheek, she continued. “Leave it to my mother to choose a multi-functional piece of jewelry.” As she turned to leave the room, Devlin remembered Caroline’s oversized diamond ring. For the first time since learning he would have to fight Caroline and Elliot Dane for custody, Devlin was afraid.

***

By the time they had arrived back at the townhouse, Isabel was talking excitedly about all the loot she had left Dr. Bob’s office with including two balloon animals, three suckers, a deck of magic cards and a stuffed teddy bear wearing a doctor’s coat and stethoscope. When they entered the house, Marilyn Prescott, Devlin’s mother, was there to greet them.

“Is that my little Isabel?” she said to the little girl who was in Devlin’s arms.

“Grammy!” Isabel shouted and reached her arms out. Surprised by his mother’s presence, Devlin handed the excited child over to her.

“Mom.”

“Hello darling,” she said to him as he planted a kiss on her cheek. Her voice held a hint of an Irish accent.

“What are you doing here? Is dad-” A tremor of worry was in his voice.

“Your father’s fine. He’s out back with Ryan. We just came by for a little visit.”

Devlin remembered Casey’s presence. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Casey Wilkes.” Casey stepped forward and shook the older woman’s hand. Considerably shorter than her son, Marilyn Prescott was a pleasingly plump woman with soft, wavy gray hair that she had pinned neatly into a bun. A spot of flour on her floral print blouse suggested she’d recently been at work in the kitchen. It was the warmth in her eyes, however, that left Casey momentarily speechless. The open love she had for Devlin as well as the child in her arms that shared none of her blood but still called her Grammy was clearly written into every word, every gesture. She looked like the mother and grandmother that Casey had always read about in her books.

“It’s nice to meet you dear,” she said to Casey. The older woman studied her closely for a long moment and then turned her attention to Isabel. Her fingers went to the bandage behind Isabel’s ear. “What happened to my special girl?”

“Mom, I’ll tell you about it later. Can you take her upstairs? She needs to stay in bed for the rest of the day,” Devlin said.

“It’s not bedtime,” protested Isabel.

“Not bedtime but Dr. Bob says you need to rest. Maybe Grammy will read a story for you?” He looked at his mother and softly said, “No sleep for three hours.” Instead of questioning him, she nodded and then turned her attention to Isabel.

“Well, that sounds fine now, doesn’t it Izzy?” As she made her way up the stairs, she gave the large dog that was following her a curious look. “Now who do we have here?”

“That’s Sampson. He’s my friend,” declared the little girl.

“Is he now? Well Sampson, I suppose you’ll be wanting to hear a story too?”

As the trio made their way up the stairs, Devlin led Casey down the hallway and out of the house into the backyard. The yard was a decent size considering the location and an elaborate, wooden play system was set up in the middle of it. A small greenhouse and work shed sat in the far corner along the fence line.

Devlin and Casey stepped outside to find his father and Ryan busily shoveling the snow on the walkway from the house to the shed. In his early seventies, Sean Prescott was still a handsome man who prided himself on a hard day’s work. A slight limp was the only evidence of his advanced years.

“Hey Dad,” said Devlin as he went to his father and shook his hand.

“Dev, my boy. I was just showing Ryan here how to handle old man winter.” The old man’s brogue was more pronounced than his wife’s but years spent in the States had whittled it down to the point where it no longer deterred from the clarity of his English.