by E B Corbin
CONTENTS
Too Many Secrets
Dedication
Prologue
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Epilogue
Untitled
Too Many Secrets
EB Corbin
(Edana Corbin)
© 2018, Edana Corbin
All rights reserved
To Bob for his patience and help
Prologue
Oilville, PA - November 2016
The bullet hit as Roxy O'Hara picked her way along the path through the woods separating her cabin from Chester Callahan’s farm. A light snow had fallen overnight and still clung to the branches of the oaks, maples, and pines. But Roxy barely noticed her surroundings, trying to decide how much to tell Chester. Near the clearing, she heard a sharp crack and felt an overwhelming pain in her back. She fell to the ground, cushioned by the dry leaves, her body in shock.
Chester stood by the gate watching his friend approach. He sucked in a horrified breath when he heard the gunshot and saw Roxy fall. Without concern for himself, he shuffled over the thin blanket of snow as fast as his ancient body allowed.
A dark, red stain grew across the back of her bright-orange parka. He tried to stem the flow of blood as best he could. “Roxy! Roxy, can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open for a heartbeat. “Wha…?” she managed before darkness overtook her, then nothing.
CHAPTER ONE
Pittsburgh, PA - Two weeks later
A brittle sun shone through the windows reflecting off the pale-yellow walls and glistening in the wintry morning light. Late November weather in Pittsburgh could be misleading. The coffee pot in her mother’s kitchen stood nearly full, exhaling a welcoming aroma, but Roxanne didn’t notice these things as she read the official-looking letter in her hand.
“Who the hell is Roxy O'Hara?” She tossed the paper aside, glancing at her mother across the kitchen table. She never expected this news when she arrived for their monthly breakfast at her parents’ home in Mt. Lebanon. “And why am I named in the damn will?”
“Your language!” Her mother scolded but didn’t look up. She could avoid Roxanne’s gaze, though she couldn’t avoid Roxanne’s questions.
“Well? Who is she?” Roxanne repeated, pointing to the discarded letter with her left hand while picking up her coffee cup with her right. She sipped the lukewarm, dark liquid—waiting.
“She is or, uh, was my sister,” her mother muttered.
“What? You have a sister?”
Her mother shrugged. If Roxanne merely let the subject drop, they might be able to continue with a routine Saturday morning visit, catching up on the day-to-day in their lives.
“This attorney…” Roxanne glanced at the letter again. “This Ralph Patterson guy claims Roxy named me as her executor and sole beneficiary. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know.” Her mother raised her eyes to Roxanne. “Maybe she felt guilty for not taking the time to meet you.”
Roxanne frowned. As a skilled lawyer, everything regarding this situation struck her as suspicious. “Even though I’m obviously named after her, she’s a perfect stranger to me. Why?”
“Because, well, because…” Her mother sighed. “There was a good reason.”
“What? Was she a serial killer? A porn star? Did she rob a bank, and I’m inheriting a bunch of stolen cash?”
“Don’t be silly. It was just a, um, little misunderstanding between two sisters.”
“A little misunderstanding sure lasted for a long time.” Roxanne stared into her mother’s gray eyes, while the older woman fidgeted and shifted. “So why leave it to me? Didn’t she have any kids or friends… or somebody who at least knew she existed?”
Her mother studied the red-checked pattern on the tablecloth. “Roxy never married to my knowledge, and I’m not aware of any of her friends.”
“So why didn’t she leave everything to you? You are her closest relative, aren’t you? Or is there another sister I don’t know?”
“No.” Fumbling with a spoon, her mother muttered, “Roxy and I were the only two. She was barely eleven months older than me, and we fought over everything the way kids do… then we had that misunderstanding, and I guess she never forgot it.”
“It says in this letter I need to meet with him to get started with the transfer of her things to my name. I don’t have time. You’ll have to do it for me.” For the past five years, Roxanne had busted her butt to make partner at her law firm, a goal too important to let herself be sidetracked.
“I can’t do it for you. You’ll need to sign documents and things.”
“I’ll give you my power of attorney. I can’t take the time right now to deal with a piddling inheritance from a relative I’ve never met.” Roxanne paused long enough to take another sip of her coffee, scowling when she realized it had gone cold. “For God’s sake, what kind of place is that? Oilville? Some little Pennsylvania town where nothing’s happened since an oil boom in the 1800s?”
As Roxanne stood to refill her coffee cup, she wondered why her mother made every molehill into a mountain. How much could this so-called inheritance possibly be worth? She refused to consider taking time off with the annual partner’s meeting coming up. Rumor had it they were going to add a new partner this year, so she couldn’t risk any distractions.
“I won’t do it,” her mother said to Roxanne’s back. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Because of a shitty little misunderstanding?”
“Roxanne! Enough of your atrocious language! I am your mother, and you will not talk to me in that manner. You were raised better.”
Roxanne turned around and saw tears pooling in her mother’s eyes. In her whole life, she had never seen her mother cry—the woman prized her ability to remain calm, cool, and collected.
And controlling. To escape her mother’s decrees, she chose Tulane University in New Orleans, even though she’d been accepted at the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie-Mellon. Both were good schools, eliminated by their proximity to her childhood home. She ruled out Columbia University as prohibitively expensive, and equally important, her mother would still dominate her life if she attended college as nearby as New York.
Of course, she shouldn’t overlook the fact her mother lost her only sister. It had to be hard, no matter how far apart they’d grown.
She filled her cup and sighed. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to meet with this attorney. Maybe after the first of the year. Can you at least tell him that?”
“No.”
Roxanne barely heard the whispered answer. She took a deep breath to keep from giving a smart answer, then burned the roof of her mouth as she gulped the hot coffee. “Fine, then this needs to wait.” She plunked the coffee cup on the counter. “I have to
go. I have work to do.”
“But it’s Saturday.”
“Afraid it’s not optional.” Roxanne bent to give her mother a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
“Your father isn’t back from the gym, yet,” her mother protested. “He’s right down the road at some new place, and he’s cutting his workout short to see you. Now he won’t get to see you until the next time you grace us with your presence.”
This pulled another sigh from Roxanne. “I saw him two days ago, on Thanksgiving. I’m sure he won’t mind. Tell him I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run.”
Roxanne couldn’t bear to sit in the kitchen for another hour or more waiting for her father to return. She suspected the conversation would disintegrate until her mother began with the standard questions about Richard and marriage.
After stuffing the letter from Ralph Patterson in her ever-present messenger bag, she grabbed her coat and keys, gave her mother a hug, and rushed out the door. She instantly wished she had thought to bring the knit hat she usually wore with her navy peacoat, but the sun had been deceptive this morning when she left her condo. The day had started bright and sparkling with none of the cold, biting wind which blew through her as she stepped into the morning air. Roxanne shivered as she jumped into the shelter of her car, sorry for her choice of jeans with a short coat, nevertheless happy to get away.
When she looked in the rearview mirror to brush her long, dark hair away from her face, she saw her mother looking back. Well, her mother didn’t have bright turquoise eyes or light freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. Her mother’s dark hair only now showed gray at the temples, while Roxanne had a tinge of red in hers. They shared well-defined cheekbones and the same full lips.
Her mother told her she had beautiful Black Irish looks although Roxanne disagreed. She always wanted to look like Jennifer Aniston.
◆◆◆
The leaden sky threatened snow as she made the twenty-minute drive from Mt. Lebanon to her condo. On a Saturday, Banksville Road traffic cruised along, sparser than usual. This would be a sensible time to pull into a carwash to spray the grime off her Lexus, however other thoughts pushed the idea from her mind.
She tried to come to terms with the shock of learning she had an aunt she never knew existed. The contents of the will probably wouldn’t make any major difference in her life, so she had no regrets putting the letter on the back burner. She didn’t understand why her mother insisted Roxanne take care of this business herself.
Roxanne learned a long time ago one sure way to get her mother’s attention was to do something her mother frowned on. She figured her Aunt Roxy did that by dying without permission.
Lost in thought, she almost missed the last exit before entering the Fort Pitt Tunnel, but the nimble car handled the quick turn. With her mind on autopilot, she maneuvered the roads until a final left turn revealed her condo on Grandview Avenue in Duquesne Heights, a neighborhood adjacent to Mt. Washington, a popular tourist destination in the city.
She expected to cinch her partnership at the upcoming meeting. Partner meant extra work, though at least she wouldn’t have to come up with cash for a buy-in since only the equity partners needed that. Equity could wait, she focused on extra income and recognition of worth at present. She wanted this partnership more than anything.
Tiny snowflakes floated onto the windshield as she pulled into the underground parking garage. The condos were not state of the art, but the view from her tenth-floor balcony made up for the turtle-like speed of the elevator and the plaid carpeting in the hallway. Her small balcony overlooked the city barely past the point where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers merged into the Ohio River. She could see at least a dozen of the many bridges which united the north and south sides of the city.
Someone once told her over four hundred bridges crossed the three rivers in the greater Pittsburgh area. She didn’t quite believe it yet never took the time to count them. Fifteen minutes away, the sixty-four story US Steel Tower dominated the skyline and served as the home base for Roxanne’s law firm.
She stopped at her door in the drab hallway and clawed through her messenger bag for keys. As she fiddled to insert the right key for the lock, the fob to her Lexus bounced against the door. She made a mental note to call the locksmith this week and have the lock changed to a touchpad. If… no, when she became a partner in the firm, she’d be able to upgrade many things in the unit without pestering Richard into paying his half of the cost. He didn’t seem to mind most of the inconveniences, but she sure did.
The door opened halfway then rammed into a box blocking the entrance. It didn’t belong there, and Roxanne blinked at Richard’s name written with a magic marker on the top of the carton.
The man belonging to the name knelt in front of the coffee table, applying duct tape to a second box. He pushed thick, ebony hair out of his face as he looked up with large brown eyes. The warmth those eyes once held had attracted her in the beginning. Now, they showed regret.
Years of practice in a courtroom allowed him to mask his surprise when Roxanne pushed her way around the obstruction at the entrance.
Trained in reading people too, she caught the momentary panic on his face.
He gave her a tentative smile. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah, kind of a shitty visit.” She waved her hands around the room at the assorted boxes and piles of books crowding every available surface. “What’s going on?”
“Um, well, um, I’m, uh…” Richard wore an expression Roxanne had never seen on him—as if he were caught with his hand in the cookie jar—except they didn’t have a cookie jar.
She nodded to the stack of books waiting to be packed. “Aren’t those your law books?”
He glanced around at the disarray in their usually spotless living area. “Yeah, I’m taking them with me.”
“Going somewhere?”
Richard stood and walked around a half-filled box. He held his arms out to her then let them fall to his side. “I should have told you sooner.”
“Told me?” She didn’t bother to give him an encouraging smile because she feared she knew what came next. Why was everyone trying to deflect her questions today?
“I, uh, I’ve been offered a position with Burns and Whitethorpe starting Monday. I’m driving to Philadelphia today to get settled before I start.” He avoided looking at her, fiddling with the duct tape instead.
She forced herself to listen while her mind did pirouettes.
Unable to see her brain banging around inside her head, Richard continued, “You know how small the litigation department is at the firm. I’m so tired of defending the spoiled brats and spouses of our corporate clients. I need something I can believe in, something significant, more than getting little Joey out of a drunk driving ticket. I told you how I felt. I thought you understood.”
After a stupefied moment, Roxanne forced words out. “I, uh, I guess I assumed you were venting.” In reality she paid little attention to Richard’s tales of woe. She had her own career to think about. “I didn’t realize how unhappy you were.”
“I didn’t either until this job opening came up.” He lowered his head. “I planned to tell you the day I made the decision, but you were working late, and I didn’t want to bother you. I’m truly sorry. I care about you a lot, Roxanne, only this isn’t working out. I think you realize that as well as I do.” He reached for her hand. “Look at me and tell me I’m wrong.”
She stared into his eyes, lined with the thick lashes she’d once found so sexy. No words came out when she opened her mouth. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not with her goal within reach. How could she face her coworkers when they learned Richard had bailed?
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Why think about her coworkers as her love life fell to pieces? He was right. At some point, they’d lost whatever had first brought them together.
He gently squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t expect
this. I never meant to hurt you.”
She resisted his plea for understanding. She understood well enough, but she’d never let him know how much her heart ached. “So you’re leaving? Today?” The words stuck in her throat.
Richard hesitated. “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me before you were going out the door?” she blurted. “It’s pretty shitty to sneak out this way.” She gestured around the room and let her anger take over. “You son of a bitch!”
“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. You’ve been so wrapped up in getting more and more billable hours, I didn’t want to distract you. I understand how important this partnership is to you.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Frankly, I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Frankly? FRANKLY? Well, frankly, my dear, you’re right. I don’t give a damn!” Even as she uttered the words, she recalled having a similar conversation with her ex-husband.
Was she destined to have this same conversation over and over like some Gone with The Wind screening that would never end? Was this her fault?
No way had her divorce felt like her fault. Her ex-in-laws, the Boudreaux clan from one of the old-line families of New Orleans, had considered her a Yankee carpetbagger unable to understand the nuances of high society in the Crescent City. She overlooked their many slights and hoped her dual MBA and law degree from Tulane would impress them.
It didn’t. But she ignored that.
When she caught her ex-husband, Adrian, in a compromising position with an old friend of his family, in their marriage bed no less, her red-hot anger coupled with the pain of betrayal, could not be ignored. Adrian rambled on about how Camille had time for him, how she made him feel special, and how his family liked her. He complained Roxanne never spent time with him— her work took precedence. Like Richard, he didn’t think Roxanne would care much. He even suggested they could have an open marriage, the way his friends did.
