The Saint

by Molly O'Keefe

  “You say that now,” Tyler said, bristling with anger. “But clearly, you’ve been lying to us for years.”

  I couldn’t muster up much anger, or frankly, much surprise. Maybe I was just too tired. Or maybe I wasn’t surprised by my family anymore. I wrapped my arms around Zoe, wondering how much worse this was going to get.

  “I won’t apologize,” Margot said, her cheeks red and her eyes flashing.

  “My father spent seven years in jail,” Matt said. “You owe someone some apologies.”

  The fire banked in Margot’s eyes, and a lifetime of regrets, anger, desperation, all poured out of my grandmother.

  “After I heard about Vanessa approaching you in that breaking and entering case,” Margot said, looking at me, “I realized that no amount of money was going to keep her away. So I waited for the perfect chance to get rid of her. Three years later I heard that Richard had been approached about the casino job. It didn’t take much to leak some information to Vanessa, who I knew wouldn’t be able to resist being at the drop-off site, hoping to get in on the action. The plan was to have both of them arrested and out of our hair for a long time.”

  “Instead, Dad vanished, Mom vanished, and Matt’s dad was arrested,” Savannah cried.

  “That wasn’t my fault,” Margot said. “All I did was give Vanessa the information she needed to be there, and I knew she would take care of the rest. Once Richard saw Vanessa, I left—”

  “Were you there?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Margot said, and Tyler laughed.

  “Of course she was—an eighty-year-old grandmother in a biker bar in Henderson. Makes perfect sense,” Tyler breathed.

  “I had to be sure it worked, because I knew I wouldn’t get a chance like that again.”

  “Unbelievable,” Tyler muttered. “Un-freaking-believable.”

  “Richard left the jewel case with Joel, Matt’s father, but Joel wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t even a crook. He was just a guy who knew casinos, so Vanessa made an easy mark of him. She managed to get the emerald out of the case, but once she heard the sirens, she slipped it into Joel’s pocket and left out the back. In the chaos, I grabbed the case and tried to get the emerald out of Joel’s pocket so he wouldn’t get in trouble, but there was no time.”

  “Did you call the cops?” Savannah asked, and Margot nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Matt. I am. I didn’t mean for your father to get arrested,” Margot said.

  “I’m so sorry, Matt,” Savannah whispered, her hand tugging on the edge of his T-shirt.

  Matt stroked his wife’s hair, his smile so tender it made me glad my sister had found such a man. “Dad knew the risk when he got involved,” Matt said.

  “Mom broke into the greenhouse,” Tyler said. “And I searched this place top to bottom and only found the diamond. What were you doing? Moving the gems around?”

  Margot shook her head. “I don’t know how Vanessa missed the ruby. When I cleaned up the next morning after the first break-in, I found the bag in the corner, under some broken glass. It was a fluke. Seven years ago, I put the diamond in the attic and the ruby in the greenhouse and I waited. I knew Vanessa would show up eventually, looking for those gems.”

  “This was a long shot at best,” Tyler said. “Your odds—”

  “I know,” Margot said, and suddenly she looked every one of her years. The sparkle and sizzle of my grandmother was gone, and now she sat at her kitchen table, an old woman, surrounded by an angry and disbelieving family and piles of regrets. “But she was bleeding me. Paying her every year was going to bankrupt me at some point.”

  “Why didn’t you just give her the gems?” Matt asked.

  “She wouldn’t have stayed away,” I answered. “Margot could have given her the gems, but Vanessa would have been back for another ten grand in a few years. She’s a bottomless hole.”

  “And I wanted her to get caught,” Margot snapped. “I wanted her far away from us.”

  “This is nuts, Margot!” Tyler snapped.

  “You lied!” Savannah cried. “I asked you if the gems were here and you said no. We could have helped you. We could have figured something out.”

  “I understand what you did,” I said, and everyone turned to face me. “The risks you took to keep your family safe.”

  Margot nodded. “It wasn’t an easy decision, but when you gave her that alibi and I knew it was a lie—that she had blackmailed you into it. And I knew she would just keep coming at us. It was only a matter of time before she destroyed our lives. I’m sorry, Carter,” she breathed, her broken heart in her eyes. “I was too late to help you.”

  I nodded and leaned my head against Zoe’s. “She’s gone,” I said, thinking of that lonely hotel room and those broken fingers. “She can’t come back—people far more scary than us are looking for her.”

  The room was silent, everyone trying to make sense of the eighty-year-old criminal mastermind who was also our grandmother.

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I need some coffee,” Juliette said.

  “And some eggs,” Savannah said, standing up to go to the stove, her pregnancy leading the way. “Zoe? You want some? You should eat.”

  Zoe agreed, and suddenly, everyone was just going on about their day.

  Coffee. Eggs.

  A giant stolen ruby in the middle of the table.

  Laughter, slightly hysterical but totally unstoppable, burped out of me. I laughed so hard I had to sit down and then, never one to be left out of a good time, Tyler joined in, his hands on my shoulders.

  Then Savannah, who had to brace herself against the stove.

  This was my family. Love it, hate it; I couldn’t change it and didn’t want to. I’d take them, all of them, my gem-stealing grandmother, my sparkling devil of a brother, my too-good-for-the-world sister.

  I had them now and I was never going to let them go.

  Zoe plunked herself down on my lap, smiling into my eyes. “Let me in on the joke,” she whispered.

  “I think you have to be a Notorious O’Neill to get it,” I whispered, and leaned forward to kiss her. “You’re pretty notorious, but we need to work on the O’Neill part,” I said, rubbing her belly. The baby kicked and I took that as a yes vote.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?” Zoe asked, and I nodded.

  “A Christmas wedding,” I said. “A spring baby. What could be better?”

  Zoe sighed and curled up against me, my sunshine on all the dark unknown days ahead. “Nothing,” she sighed. “Nothing at all.”

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  * * *

  CARTER

  “We maybe should have talked to each other before everyone decided to have babies,” Tyler said, trying to jam a deck of cards into one of the kids’ stockings. “We could have scheduled this better.”

  “Is that the last of it?” I asked, checking the floor for any little pony or forgotten doll.

  “I think so.”

  Tyler stepped back next to me and we looked at the stockings strung up against the mantel in The Manor’s library. The Christmas tree glittered behind us, practically levitating on piles of presents. “It’s a lot of pink,” I said.

  “Poor Jake is the odd man out,” Tyler said, talking about his son, born five months after Savannah’s Faith, who had been born early, six weeks after our Amelia. “We need more boys.”

  “I need more sleep,” I muttered.

  “Amen to that,” Tyler said with a smile. The glimmer was turned down on Ty these days—no sleep and dirty diapers could do that to a man. But there was a steadfastness in him that hadn’t been there before.

  A steadfastness I never thought I’d see in my devilish little brother.

  “I’m proud of you, Tyler,” I said, and Tyler blinked. “I don’t say that enough. But I mean it. You are a good man.”

  “Thank you,” Tyler said, his voice rough. “That means a lot.”

  “I should have said it more when we were gro
wing up. I should have done more—”

  “Stop, man. We’re together now. The three of us. Our kids. That’s all that matters.”

  “Hi, guys,” Savannah said, stepping into the room and right into the space between us. “Wow. It looks like Christmas exploded in here.”

  “What are you doing up?” I asked, wrapping an arm around my sister. Savannah liked hugs, and I was making up for lost time.

  “Checking on Margot.”

  “How is she?” Tyler asked.

  “Sleeping comfortably.”

  We were silent, staring into the glitter and gleam of a holiday at The Manor. Maybe Margot’s last one. None of us said it, but the thought was there, as much a part of the holiday as the food and gifts. We’d returned the ruby to the casino anonymously last year, and three months later Margot had had a stroke.

  And then another.

  Zoe and I tried to come back to The Manor as often as we could. It was difficult with the baby and Zoe’s academy taking off like it was, but everyone was well aware that Margot didn’t have much longer to live.

  Luckily, the foundation work I did for Lafayette Corp. I could do from anywhere.

  “She’s had a good life,” Tyler said. “She’s eighty-five—”

  “No, she’s not!” I said. “She’s like seventy.”

  Savannah laughed. “You’re both wrong. Matt and I were looking for her will and we found her birth certificate. Margot’s ninety-two.”

  “Shut. Up,” Tyler whispered, and shook his head. “What a woman.”

  “What a mom,” Savannah said. “Good and bad. We couldn’t have had a better one.”

  “No,” I agreed. “And I couldn’t have a better brother or sister.”

  Savannah held my hand, and Tyler’s arm around my shoulder felt like the best kind of anchor, keeping me here, present and rooted in my life.

  “We’re starting a new legacy,” I said. “For our kids.”

  Savannah nodded. “Something they can be proud of. Part of Margot, but parts of us.”

  “And hopefully a good portion of the people we married,” Tyler said, and we all nodded. “But I’m still teaching all our kids how to play hold-em.”

  Savannah groaned.

  “I’m not kidding,” Tyler said.

  “I know,” she said. “That’s what scares me.”

  My heart was huge in my chest, love like a balloon. But I suddenly needed Zoe and Amelia.

  This love was like that. I’d be in the middle of a meeting and I would need them. Need Amelia’s sweet babble, or the touch of Zoe’s hand on mine. The weight of my girls in my arms.

  “Good night, guys,” I said. “You should get some sleep—it’s going to be a short night.”

  Tyler groaned, and we all went upstairs to our beds.

  I opened the door to my old room. The light from the night-light in the hallway fell over Zoe’s sleeping face, the baby nestled against her in the middle of the bed.

  It was no way to sleep—with a tornado baby in bed with you—but sometimes it was the best thing in the world.

  I slid under the covers as quietly as I could, and Amelia sighed in her sleep, rolled over and flung out a hand, connecting with my face.

  Zoe’s silent laugh shook the covers. “You okay?” she whispered, her green eyes aglow.

  Okay? I thought, suddenly overwhelmed. The woman of my dreams was in my bed, the baby of my heart beside me. My family was asleep in the house around me. Every dream I had ever had for my life had been reborn and made better, because of this woman.

  “Sweetie,” Zoe sighed, reaching forward and catching the tears that fell from my eyes.

  I caught her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

  Never in my wild imagination had I thought that being a Notorious O’Neill would make me so damn happy.

  I hope you enjoyed The Notorious O’Neill’s! I love to hear from readers - please drop me a line at Molly@molly-okeefe.com.

  * * *

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  * * *

  Interested in more Family Drama? Meet the Kane’s. And just in time for Christmas!

  HOW MY BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND STOLE CHRISTMAS

  * * *

  I have one Christmas wish: to get Sam Porter, my brother’s best friend and the man I’ve loved from a distance for most of my life – to notice me. To really notice me. So, I’m doing that super cheesy thing where I get all dressed up at the Kane Co. Holiday party in the hopes he’ll see what he’s been missing.

  * * *

  And for the span of a blackout every one of my sex dreams about Sam come true. But then the lights come back on and he pushes me away with both hands.

  * * *

  So now I’m done with him. Done with his handsome face, and his not-so-hidden pain and all our inside jokes. And my love for him – I’m really done with that.

  * * *

  But Sam has been discharged from the Marines, and my brother has hired him on at Kane Co. In the shipping department. Where I’m the boss. And he’s…irresistible.

  * * *

  But Sam has his own Christmas wish and it’s me he’s wanted all along.

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  You know what’s bullshit? Those scenes in movies when a girl gets all dressed up. And she’s got on high heels, and make up and a tight dress that shows off the ass and boobs she’s been pretending she doesn’t have because she doesn’t know what to do with them. Then with the ass and boobs on full display she walks into a big fancy party and the guy she’s been secretly pining for most of her life, sees her and instantly falls in love.

  Like fake eyelashes and a pushup bra were what he needed to finally see her for the total fox she’d always been.

  Total bullshit, right?

  Well, guess who was putting on a push up bra and a blue sequin dress and a pair of high heels that were going to probably break my ankle.

  Yeah. Me.

  This was what fifteen years of Sam Foster in my life had reduced me to: a Christmas Eve makeover.

  My phone on the edge of the desk buzzed, but I ignored it. I could really only do one thing at a time right now. And all my energy was on this: the makeover and my mental breakdown.

  “Okay,” my friend Joy said, all zen and easy because Joy was all zen and easy. And she was glamorous in a low-key way that made me believe she knew what to do with eyeliner and curling iron. Come to find out she was about as clueless as I was and she just got lucky with all that low-key glamour which probably came with the gig of being an artist. Joy was the head glass artist at Kane Co.

  You know what kind of glamor comes with the gig of warehouse supervisor? None. Unless you considered steel-toed boots glamorous. Which, if they were my new oxblood Docs? Yep. Otherwise – not so much glamor in the shipping department of Kane Co. Hard work and good people. No glamour.

  So, makeover.

  Joy was a dream with the hair and makeup but as clueless as me when it came to the the dress and the shoes, so we went shopping a week ago and got professional help. Shopping was not at all my thing, but Joy fed me or got me a bubble tea every time I wanted to bolt from the mall. It was an expensive, fattening day. But we got the job done and I bought a dress of sequins that made me feel like a beautiful disco ball. Joy got a dress too, she had a whole embarrassed thing with her boobs, which were amazing, but tonight the two of us were ignoring our mother’s voices in our heads and years of not knowing what to do with ourselves and we were going all out.

  Joy was wearing a strapless black cocktail dress that made her look like a Bond Girl.

  “Shoes,” she said, pushing a pair of strappy glittery high heels in front of me.

  In for a penny and all that shit. I put the shoes on and because I couldn’t bend over in this dress without popping the seam over my ass, I let Joy buckle the shoes.

  She stood
up and put her hands on my shoulders. She was trying hard not to smile.

  “Are you laughing at me?” I gasped, shocked she would do that, but she wasn’t the first and totally wouldn’t be the last.

  “No, no honey. Never. I’m smiling because you look…”

  “Ridiculous?” I put a hand to my hair which was like an explosion of corkscrew curls over my shoulder, held in place with glittery barrettes. This was why I wore ponytails and ball caps because my hair was the worst and Joy spent like an hour on it.

  “No. Honey. Look…”

  She stepped to the side and turned me around to face the mirror we had in the employee break room in the shipping department of the Kane Co building. And the person looking back at me was…

  “Holy shit,” I breathed stepping forward to look closer in the mirror. “That’s me.”

  I’d worn the dress at the mall. The shoes. But the whole package was something…else.

  Those were my eyes. My terrible hair made into something…fun. I wore a tight blue sequined dress that only had a strap on one shoulder and my arms, strong and toned from my work in the company looked pretty damn good. Freckles and all. My non-existent boobs had been given an existence and my ass… I mean my ass. “Look at my ass!”

  “Total knock out,” she said. “But let’s….” She stepped in behind me and then reached up

  and pushed my lips up into a smile. “There. Now. You are a total fucking knock out.”

  If I was the kind of twenty-five-year-old who giggled, I would giggle. That’s how good I looked. How good I felt. Which I had not expected to come from this make over.

  “We’re pretty hot, Joy,” I said. Pulling us together side by side to look at ourselves in the mirror. The Bond Girl and the Disco Ball.

  “I wasn’t sure about this, but I have to agree. We are pretty hot,” she said.