by SUE FINEMAN
“You’re leaving here with your pockets empty. You can go to rehab, or you can go out there and tell this guy you couldn’t get the money you owe him. Your choice.” Steffen knew he’d choose rehab. What else could he do?
Jerry came out of the kitchen. “They’ll take Phillip today.”
Phillip started to cry, a pitiful sight. “They’ll kill me if I don’t pay them.”
“If you don’t get clean now, you’ll die anyway. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“What kind of work did you do before you got strung out?”
“I was a truck driver, but I had an accident and hurt my shoulder and couldn’t work. I got disability, and Joseph helped me a couple times, but the pain was so bad I got hooked on pain pills. Then the doctor wouldn’t give me any more, so I tried street drugs.”
Steffen understood Phillip’s desperation and the pain that led him to this point in his life. Joseph might not want to help this man, but he would. Once. “I’m giving you a chance to straighten out your life. What you do with it is up to you. I won’t pay what you owe your supplier, and I won’t give you money when you get out of rehab. You’ll have to take care of yourself. Understand?”
He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Yes.”
“You have to stay there until you’re clean, and after you get out, you’d better stay clean, because I won’t pay for rehab a second time. If you mess up this chance, you’re a dead man.”
Closing his eyes, Steffen brought forth a vision of two men standing just outside the front door, waiting for Phillip to bring them money. They were both heavily armed and had enough drugs on them to earn some prison time. If they didn’t get what they came for, they intended to kill Phillip right here, in front of the building. There was another guy in the back, but the real danger was out front.
“Jerry, call the police and report two armed men trying to extort money from the Marchand estate, then inform the doorman what’s going on.”
“Oh, God,” said Phillip. “He’ll kill us all.”
The police arrived a few minutes later. Steffen stood on the balcony and watched them put handcuffs on the two men and pull guns, knives, and drugs from them. He walked back inside. “They’re now in police custody.”
Phillip’s hands shook and his eyes were filled with fear. “There’s another man in back.”
Steffen nodded. “I know.”
After talking with a police officer, Steffen and Jerry took Phillip downstairs and out the back door. Steffen had to hold Phillip’s arm to keep him steady. The man who’d been standing outside the back door was gone, as Steffen knew he would be.
They piled in the car and Jerry pulled out of the parking garage. Phillip huddled in the backseat, shaking and crying. He needed a doctor, and he needed one now.
Jerry drove them to the sleazy motel Phillip had been staying in, so they could collect his belongings, then they took Phillip to the rehab facility and checked him in.
By the time the staff took Phillip to his room, the man was shaking so hard he could barely walk. The pitiful sight tore at Steffen, reminding him of the day he’d taken his father to the sanitarium. Dad didn’t want to be there then any more than Phillip wanted to be here now.
On their way out to the car, Steffen asked Jerry, “How did you get him in so quickly?”
“Joseph sent R. J. here when he was a teenager, and when R. J. came home clean, Joseph sent them a big donation. He also left them some money in his will.”
Good for Joseph. “How long has Phillip been like this?”
Jerry unlocked the car. “I don’t know. Joseph refused to see him after Carolyn died, and she’s been gone fifteen years. Phillip was down on his luck before – he’s always been down on his luck – but not drug addicted.”
Steffen knew Phillip Marchand hadn’t shot him, so who had?
And why couldn’t he focus on the shooter’s face?
<>
On the way back to the condo, Jerry pulled into the parking lot of an exclusive men’s store, a place Steffen could never afford to shop before. “You need a new coat, and this is where Joseph bought most of his clothes,” said Jerry. “Maury Chadwick owns the store. For years, Joseph played poker with him every month.”
For the first time in his life, Steffen didn’t look at the prices. If something fit well and looked good, he bought it. The suit would have to be tailored, but he didn’t need it right away. The cashmere coat was the nicest coat he’d ever owned. He wore it out of the store.
In the car, Steffen said, “I spent a lot of money today.” He’d nearly emptied his checking account at the rehab center and he’d hit the limit on his only credit card. “I can’t believe I spent so much on clothes.”
“The items you chose are good quality and should last a long time. The coat Joseph bought twenty years ago still hangs in his closet.”
“You didn’t give away his clothes?”
“I didn’t give away anything. All his things belong to you now, although I’m not sure if any of his clothes would fit you. Joseph was tall, like you, but he was quite thin these last few years.”
Steffen wondered if Joseph’s clothes would fit Phillip. Phillip’s clothes looked like Salvation Army rejects. If he stuck it out through rehab, he’d need a job and decent clothes.
Steffen shook off thoughts of Phillip. He’d done what he could for the man. Now it was up to him.
“Jerry, I have a friend coming in a couple days. Virginia Kane. I want to take her to Florida next week. Would you make the necessary arrangements? We’d like to leave on Monday.”
“Of course. Someone should check out the house. It’s probably looking a little shabby by now.”
“Does it have a pool?”
“Yes, and the house sits right on the beach. It’s a nice place to take a winter break.”
A vacation on the beach would be one way to repay Ginny for taking him in when he had nowhere else to go. She didn’t have to do that, and she didn’t have to take such good care of him while he recuperated from the shooting.
“Jerry, I need to stop at the post office before we go home.” Time to change his mailing address. And he needed to go by the house and pick up his mail.
But that could wait a day or two.
Chapter Twelve
Roland wore his best gray suit for Jill Goldberg’s funeral, the same suit he’d worn for his mother’s funeral last year. Phoebe looked pale and fragile in a black dress. She carried a white hanky trimmed in lace. He had three handkerchiefs in his pockets, just in case. She’d been crying off and on since the day her mother died. Knowing how she felt, he stayed close, offering a hand to hold, an arm to cling to, and a shoulder to lean on.
The service was unfamiliar, as he knew it would be. Donovan Kane gave the eulogy. He spoke about Phoebe’s mother as he would a treasured friend, someone he and others loved and would miss. Phoebe’s friend, Ginny Kane, read the words Phoebe had written, then she sat beside Phoebe and squeezed her hand.
“She’s at peace now,” Ginny said.
The day was bitterly cold, but clear, and standing in the cemetery felt intensely uncomfortable. Phoebe’s body shook, and Roland didn’t know if it was because of the cold or because she was burying her mother today. Jill Goldberg would rest beside her husband, Myron Goldberg, in the Jewish section of the River Valley Memorial Cemetery. Until today, Roland hadn’t realized there were different sections of the cemetery for different religions. It didn’t seem odd; it was just something he’d never thought about. His mother was buried beside her parents, who’d died many years ago. He wasn’t sure if his father was dead or alive, not that it mattered. He’d left so many years ago, Roland couldn’t remember what he looked like.
The rabbi said the final prayer and Phoebe put her hand on the coffin. Tears ran down her face and dripped on the polished oak coffin. Roland put his arm around her and gently pulled her back. He shoved a handkerchief into her hand and held her while she sobbed.
; “She’s with your father now,” he murmured. “And you’re going to be all right. I’m here for you, Phoebe. I’ll always be here for you, darling.”
Several women walked up, people he’d seen in the library many months ago. Women who laughed at him when he tried to ask Phoebe out on a date. One of them said, “I didn’t realize you were together.”
Phoebe didn’t look up. She was immersed in grief. Roland wished this day would end, for Phoebe’s sake, but Donovan and his wife had arranged a reception at Jill’s home. All these well-meaning people would undoubtedly expect to be fed and offer their condolences to the only family Jill had left in this world – her distraught daughter, Phoebe.
Donovan leaned in close. “Take your time. We’ll be at the house.”
Roland nodded. Someone had to handle the mourners, and Phoebe couldn’t handle anything right now. The black wreath hung on the front door, and one of the neighbors had offered to put the food out. Jill Goldberg would be remembered fondly by her friends and neighbors, and when grief released its hold on Phoebe, she’d remember her mother with love.
The next few hours could be awkward. Phoebe’s memory hadn’t completely returned, and she didn’t remember many of the people who’d come to the funeral.
But they all knew her.
<>
Steffen stood in the window of the study, gazing out at the waves lapping at the lake shore. When he first came here, he thought he could sell the condo, but the more time he spent here, the better he liked it. If he stayed for the long term, he’d want to redecorate and replace the fancy furniture with pieces that were comfortable and inviting. Maybe Ginny could help him with that. He liked her sense of style.
He could ask her to move in with him, but he knew she wouldn’t want to hang around here. Her job and family – and cat – were in River Valley, Ohio.
What made him think he could have a relationship with a woman who lived in a different state? Her life was there, and his was here, in Chicago. He’d spent half his life traveling the country, but he always came home to Chicago.
Tapping the letter from Joseph on the window pane, Steffen watched dark clouds roll in over the lake. The wind picked up, making the water ripple and beat on the shore in angry waves.
Joseph’s ghost made his presence known, and Steffen felt the loneliness he must have felt after his beloved Carolyn passed away. Fifteen years was a long time to live without your life’s companion. Funny how he didn’t feel her presence in the condo. Only Joseph’s. But she had her son and grandsons with her. She didn’t know she had a third grandson, the psychic freak R. J. had ignored as if he didn’t exist.
Read the letter, Joseph said.
Steffen sighed deeply, sat behind the desk, and opened the envelope. The two hand-written pages were barely legible, and he knew Joseph had written the letter himself with a shaky hand.
Steffen,
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but my biggest regret was in not telling the world about you. You were a part of me, of my family, yet I didn’t acknowledge you. I wanted to tell you I was proud to have a grandson like you. Instead, I watched you grow from afar and kept you hidden from your grandmother. I know she would have loved you.
Steffen threw the letter down. “I can’t read this, Joseph.”
Read the letter, the ghost said.
Steffen picked it up and read on.
I tried several times to see you but couldn’t get past your guard dog without paying the bribe, which I refused to do. I wish now that I’d paid the fee, so I could talk with you and get to know you.
I know the money I’m leaving you doesn’t make up for my neglect, but you’re an intelligent man, a man of compassion and talent. You will undoubtedly find more ways to share your unique gifts with others.
I can’t make up for my mistakes, but I can give you some fatherly advice. Find a good woman to love, and don’t keep secrets from her. No matter how difficult it is, talk to her and tell her the truth. She may be angry at first, but if she truly loves you, she’ll understand.
Never doubt that I love you and will be watching over you from the other side.
Joseph
Steffen threw the letter on the desk, took a deep breath, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Aside from a couple women, no one had ever told him they loved him, not even his father. Joseph loved him, but he loved his son more or Steffen’s life would have been very different. If Steffen had grown up in a rich family, maybe he would have ended up spoiled and self-centered like R. J. And maybe he would have become a doctor.
He had the money to go to college now, but the desire was gone.
Maybe he’d go ahead with the book. Joseph had kept all the newspaper clippings and pictures he needed, and he had his journals. His father’s photo album could provide more pictures. Could he write a book himself, or would he need a ghostwriter? He wasn’t an educated man, but he was fairly intelligent, and he had the time and money to devote to the project.
But first, he had to figure out who had shot him, and why.
<>
Watching Phoebe with Roland, Ginny’s heart felt heavy. Although she’d been through an upsetting experience, Phoebe had found a man to love. Roland Bickley looked at Phoebe as if she was the only woman in the world who mattered.
As people spoke to Phoebe, she was polite, but distant. From the blank look on her face, Ginny assumed she didn’t remember these people. But she remembered her mother, and Roland had gotten her here in time to say goodbye. Maybe that was enough for now.
As people left, Ginny’s parents stood at the door and thanked them for coming. Phoebe hung back, clinging to Roland as if he were the only person in the world she could rely on. The only person who loved her.
Ginny carried leftover food into the kitchen. Roland followed with more platters. He said, “Phoebe wants to go back to my house.”
“Then take some of this food with you. No sense letting it go to waste.”
“Do you want some?”
Shaking her head, Ginny said, “I’m going to Chicago to visit a friend.” She paused for a few seconds, then asked, “Roland, how did you find Phoebe?”
“She was sitting at the bar in a singles hangout, looking lost and scared. She said she didn’t know who she was or where she belonged, so I said her name was Jane, and she belonged with me. I know it was the wrong thing to do, but she seemed so scared.” He swallowed hard. “I took advantage of her, of her vulnerability. It was a selfish thing to do.”
“Why was it selfish?”
“Because I knew who she was, but I didn’t know her mother was ill.”
Ginny sighed. No wonder he felt guilty.
“I knew I had to tell her, but I wanted to wait until her memory returned, and then her mother died, and I couldn’t upset her even more. She needs me.”
“Of course she does.” He stood there looking like a whipped puppy, and Ginny knew he loved Phoebe. “I’m glad she has you in her life, Roland.”
“Thank you,” he said as Phoebe came through the door with more food.
Ginny hugged her friend and whispered, “I like Roland.”
Phoebe smiled a little. “I like him, too.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No, I’ll be all right with Roland.”
Yes, she would, until he told her he’d known her before. Until she realized he’d lied to her. Until she understood he’d taken advantage of the situation.
Ginny said goodbye and left. She picked up her mail from the post office and drove home, her heart heavy. Phoebe had been her best friend from the day they met, and Phoebe’s parents had treated her like a second daughter. Saying goodbye to Jill wasn’t easy, but Jill was no longer suffering. She’d endured the pain and held on to life to see her daughter once more before she died. Before she left the pain behind.
“I hope she’s at peace now,” Ginny said to herself.
She pulled up in front of her house and sighed. What she wouldn’t give to find St
effen here, making her a pot of tea or doing her laundry. She’d see him soon, but it wouldn’t be the same as coming home to him. After their vacation, she’d go back to working long hours and coming home to her cat. Alone.
Ginny had everything she wanted – a strong family, a job she loved, and a purring kitty.
A man would only complicate her life.
<>
Steffen didn’t bother calling Carson before going to the house to pick up his things. He wanted the stack of journals from his bedroom, and there were some personal items he didn’t want to leave for Carson, including the family photo album his father had kept.
He rang the bell, but no one answered, so he let himself in with his key. Minutes later, he had the journals, a few clothes, and the photo album loaded in the trunk of his car. He went back inside and dug through the stack of mail on the desk in the living room. Most of it was for him. Steffen stuffed his mail in a paper grocery bag, locked the door, and drove back to the condo.
The old car drove like a dream. Carson had never let him drive the van, so although his drivers license was current, his car insurance was not. He hadn’t owned a car since his father’s old Pontiac died.
Another item to add to his list of things to do. Shop for car insurance.
“How did she drive?” Jerry asked when Steffen came in carrying the bag of mail.
“Great.”
Jerry helped him carry in the stack of journals, the photo album, and the suitcase of clothes. “I sold my old car two years ago, when Joseph couldn’t see well enough to drive. I was driving the town car all the time anyway. I thought I’d buy myself one of those hybrids, something that gets better gas mileage.”
They discussed cars for several minutes before the phone rang. Jerry answered and handed the phone to Steffen.
A woman said, “Steffen, why didn’t you call me?”
“Sheryl?”
“I’ve missed you, baby.”
