On Temporary Terms

by Janice Maynard

  Alarmed by his pallor and his demeanor, she went to him immediately. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. “I found a note. From my grandfather. To my grandmother. One she apparently never saw. It’s dated ten days before he died.”

  “Oh, Duncan. How sad. I’m sorry. But they’re together now, so if you think about it, the note isn’t really that important, is it?” She was trying to cheer him up, but it wasn’t working.

  “It’s bad, Abby.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Bad how?” Geoffrey hadn’t committed suicide. She knew that. Such a thing would have been impossible to hide in a small town. From what she remembered, the old man died of a stroke.

  Duncan hadn’t moved from his position in the doorway. His eyes were pools of misery and shock. “Read it,” he said gruffly. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Now she was frightened. What could possibly be so terrible? Duncan’s grandfather had been married to his grandmother forever. This couldn’t be one of those scenarios where he had a secret family. No other possibility came to mind. Unless he had been unfaithful and wanted to clear his conscience. Surely it wasn’t that.

  With trembling fingers, she took the envelope and extracted the single sheet of eight-and-a-half-by-eleven onionskin paper. Geoffrey Stewart had typed his note, presumably on the old Royal manual machine Abby had seen in the office. She took a breath and started reading...

  My dearest Isobel—

  If you are reading this, I’m guessing that I have passed on and you are left to unravel the mess I have made of things. My only excuse is that I believe I have been experiencing the onset of dementia. Much of what I am about to tell you refers to events of which I have no real memory. I suppose that sounds like the worst of excuses, but it is true.

  Some weeks ago, a gentleman came to me with an investment proposal. He was very persuasive, and apparently I agreed to let him make a purchase on my behalf. I do not even recall the nature of the business proposition, but I took five million dollars out of our account and gave it to him.

  All the money is gone, Isobel. All of it. I am an old fool, and I should have handed over the reins of the company long ago. The auditors were here only last week, so it will be a year at least before anyone finds out what I have done. I did not mortgage our business, thank the good Lord, but I have made such terrible inroads into our liquid assets that it will be difficult to recover.

  My hope is that I will be able to somehow replace the money. If that is the case, you will never have to know, and I will destroy this note. I am frightened and distraught. You put your faith in me, and I have betrayed you terribly.

  I find that my grasp on things is tenuous some days. I want to tell you the truth. I want you to know that my mind wanders. I am so ashamed, and I find it difficult to speak of these things. A man is supposed to care for the ones he loves. How can I do that when I don’t always remember how to find our home at the end of a long day?

  In case there is the slightest chance that our funds might somehow be recovered, I am enclosing the business card I found in my suit pocket. The man’s name is Howard Lander...

  Abby gasped and dropped the letter, her hands numb. No. Please, God, no.

  Duncan misread her shock. “I told you it was bad. Five million dollars, Abby. I won’t even be able to sell the company now. With the assets decimated, people may lose their jobs. This was going to come to light soon enough. I don’t know how to tell Brody. And what about the employees? How do I explain that my grandfather was senile?”

  He shouted the last question. His face was stark white.

  Abby could barely speak. “We’ll figure something out, Duncan. You could sell a few of the cabins. Restructure. My boss will help you, I’m sure.”

  Duncan’s lips thinned and his scowl sent ice down Abby’s spine. “Or I could hunt down this Howard Lander fellow and make him wish he had never been born.”

  Already Abby was wishing the very same thing. She swallowed hard. “Give yourself a moment to breathe. It may not be as bad as you think.”

  “I appreciate your attempt to comfort me, Abby, but all the positive thinking in the world isn’t going to make five million dollars magically appear.”

  His cynical response crushed her. First his grandmother’s unexpected death, and now this. She had to tell him the truth, but the words stuck in her throat. She knew exactly who Howard Lander was and where to find him. If she told Duncan that Howard was her father, Duncan would eye her with contempt and distrust. He would never believe she’d had nothing to do with the scheme to defraud his grandparents. He would think she had kept this horrific secret. But she hadn’t. It wasn’t true. She was as shocked as he was.

  Nausea flooded her stomach. “Would you mind taking me home, Duncan? I think I’ve done all I can for one day. I’m really tired, and I just remembered an appointment I shouldn’t miss.”

  A frown appeared between his brows. “You’re not staying?”

  “I’ll come back in the morning.”

  He reached for her hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. Please don’t go, Abby.”

  His sweet, weary smile tore the heart out of her chest. Her terrible secret choked her. She wanted to console and comfort him, and yet she was the last person who should be with him at this moment. Now it was far too late to wish she had told him all about her father and his failings. Her silence on the subject would condemn her when the truth came out. Before that happened, she had to at least try to find a solution.

  She allowed herself the luxury of leaning into him for one blissful second and then another. At last, she forced herself to step away. “It’s not you. It’s me. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not at all. But I do need to go home for a bit. Please. Or let me take your grandmother’s old car.”

  He shuddered. “Not that. It’s a piece of junk. I’ll take you down the mountain if that’s what you want.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted. But she had no choice.

  Twenty minutes later, they were back in the car. Abby had her suitcase and her shattered dreams. Once the truth came to light, Duncan would look at her with disgust and scorn.

  More important than her own sorrow was Duncan’s terrible situation. Abby had to do something—anything—to undo the damage that had been done. To right the wrongs.

  She and Duncan didn’t speak during the drive down the mountain. Eventually, an icy calm replaced her near hysteria. She had faced difficult situations before. This was no different.

  Liar. Her conscience screamed condemnation. It didn’t matter how very hard she tried not to be her father’s daughter. His blood ran in her veins, and his transgressions were written in indelible ink on her ledger sheet. How would she ever make it up to Duncan?

  At her house, he kept the engine running. “Thank you, Abby,” he said.

  His gratitude was a slap in the face under the circumstances. She managed a small smile. “Are you thanking me for sex?”

  “It’s a blanket thank-you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “I couldn’t have survived all this without you.”

  The protective ice around her heart began to melt, allowing the gargantuan pain to return. “I wanted to be with you, Duncan. I still do.”

  “I’ll text you in the morning. Does that work?”

  She searched his face, looking for some sign that the intimacies they had shared were more than commonplace for him. “Will you be okay tonight?” Alone...

  He nodded slowly. “I’ll have an early night.”

  “Don’t brood about the money.”

  “That’s like telling the sun not to come up. Don’t worry about that, Abby. It’s not your problem.”

  She fled the car and escaped into her house, barely closing the door behind her before she collapsed onto her bed. For half an hour, she sobbed. Already she missed D
uncan with a dreadful ache that was like a black hole sucking her into oblivion...

  When she was too empty for tears anymore, she lay there and tried to breathe. Her chest hurt. Her head hurt. Her stomach hurt. But she didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in her grief.

  Feeling light-headed and sick, she got to her feet and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she grabbed her car keys and walked out of the house.

  Her father lived on the fringes of Candlewick in a trailer park that had seen better days. The police regularly made meth busts in the area. Surprisingly, her father had never dabbled in drugs. He seemed quite happy with his whisky and his cigarettes.

  She parked in front of his rusted mobile home and got out. This was the first time in more than six years that she had actually sought him out and not the other way around. When she pressed the peeling, discolored buzzer, she had to battle the urge to run.

  Howard Lander flung open his door and stared at her, his mouth slack with shock. “My baby. Abby. I’m so glad to see you.”

  When he went to hug her, she held him at bay with a hand to his chest. “Save it, old man. This is business.” She pushed past him into the tiny living room and began to have doubts. Her father lived in near poverty. His furniture was made up of mismatched thrift store finds.

  Could the note Duncan found have been no more than the ramblings of a very sick man? Please, God, let it be so.

  She couldn’t bring herself to sit down, so she stood. Her father sprawled in his recliner and hit the mute button on the TV. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, grimacing.

  “What did you do with Geoffrey Stewart’s money?”

  Even then, she hoped her father would look blank.

  Unfortunately, his response left no room for misinterpretation. His puffy face turned red. Fear filled his eyes. His expression was equal parts haunted and terrified. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from shattering into pieces. “I know about the five million dollars. I want it back.”

  Howard switched from guilty fear to bluster. “Do I look like a man who has five million?”

  “Maybe you’re hiding it so no one will be onto you. But I know. Duncan knows, too. Geoffrey Stewart left a note. And he admitted everything. Your business card was in the envelope. How could you, Daddy?”

  Her voice broke on the last word. How many times could a man disappoint his child before the relationship was irrevocably destroyed?

  Howard switched to attack mode. It was a familiar pattern whenever life backed him into a corner. “The old coot had more money than he could ever spend in a lifetime. I didn’t do nothin’ wrong. He gave it to me of his own free will.”

  “The man had dementia,” Abby yelled. “You took advantage of him.”

  “It’s not like he was gonna miss the money.” Howard sulked.

  “I want it back. Where is it?”

  “It’s gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “I had a run of bad luck at the craps tables in Biloxi. I thought I could double the cash. Make five mil for myself and pay the old boy back. But it didn’t go my way.”

  Abby thought for a moment she was going to be physically ill. “We have to make this right,” she said desperately.

  Howard shook his head. “Are you out of your mind? We could sell this trailer and your house, and that wouldn’t even be a drop in the bucket. The cash is gone. End of story. Those Stewarts are richer than God. This is a blip on their radar. You worry too much about nothing, girl.”

  Anger seared through her veins. “And what if Duncan Stewart sends you to prison? What then?”

  Her father gaped at her. “You wouldn’t let that happen. I know you, Abby. You’re my kid. I’m the only thing you’ve got.”

  She backed away from him, sick and heartbroken. Her naïveté was astounding. She had worried that being in a relationship with Duncan was dangerous. That the temporary affair might mean losing her job, her reputation. Even worse, her heart.

  But all along, her blood, her family sins, were the real ticking bomb. Like Duncan, she had been blindsided by a secret. And like Duncan, she felt stupid and betrayed.

  And all because she wanted so badly to have a parent, any parent, to love her.

  “You’re not anything to me,” she said dully. “Don’t ever come near me again. As of Monday, I’ll have a restraining order in place. You no longer have the right to call yourself my father. How does it feel to know you gambled that away, too?”

  She jerked open the door and stumbled outside. Curious neighbors watched her climb into her car. Abby ignored them. With trembling hands, she sent Lara a text. Can you meet me at my house? It’s an emergency. The bank had closed fifteen minutes ago. She was counting on the fact that her friend would be free.

  When Abby pulled into her own driveway, Lara was already sitting on her porch. Abby walked up the steps and into Lara’s arms. This time, the tears were far beyond her control. She lost it completely.

  Lara hustled her inside and into the kitchen. Abby sank into a chair and buried her face in her arms. Her friend didn’t say a word. Instead, she put the kettle on to boil and found Abby’s favorite tea bags.

  “Here,” Lara said some time later. “Drink this.”

  “I don’t think I can.” Abby choked out the words. Her stomach heaved, but after a few cautious sips, the scent and the taste of the familiar drink helped calm her. In the silence of the kitchen, she could hear a clock ticking. Her life was in ruins, but the world went on.

  Lara wet a paper towel and handed it across the table. “Wipe your face and take a breath. Then tell me everything.”

  The whole sordid tale came tumbling out. Abby glossed over the trip to Asheville after the funeral, but Lara read between the lines. When Abby arrived at the part about the note and the money and her father’s involvement, Lara got quiet and her frown deepened.

  Abby clenched her hands on the table. “So that’s it. Do you think I could get a loan at the bank? It might take me a lifetime to pay the money back, but I have to do something.”

  Lara grimaced. “Here’s the thing, kid. You have excellent credit. But no one in his or her right mind is going to loan you five million dollars. Speaking as a banking professional, I’m telling you that’s not going to happen. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” Abby absorbed the blow. “How much could I borrow?”

  The other woman reached across the table and took Abby’s hands in hers. “Look at me, love. It’s your father’s debt. Not yours.”

  “You don’t understand,” Abby muttered.

  “I understand more than you think. That asshole has been a millstone around your neck for most of your life. But he’s not you, Abby. Everyone in this town knows who you are. They see your honor. Your integrity. As much as this hurts, you’re going to have to find a way to let it go. A terrible wrong was perpetrated on the Stewart family. But they’re not destitute. They’ll recover.”

  “I have to tell Duncan the truth.”

  “Of course you do. And sooner rather than later. But if the Scotsman is half the man you think he is, he’ll accept the fact that you aren’t responsible for your father’s way of life.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Lara came around the table and put her arms around Abby. “I would be, too, if I were in your shoes. But the truth is always best. Call your Duncan and tell him everything.”

  Abby wiped her face with her hands, unable to entirely stem the tears that came and went. Her throat closed up. Regrets strangled her. “I know we didn’t have much of a chance. Everything was temporary from day one. He was going to leave. But I didn’t want it to end like this.”

  “No matter what happens, I’m here for you, Abby. You’re my best friend in the whole world. You don’t ha
ve to do this alone.”

  The other woman’s affection threatened Abby’s hard-won composure. She stood up and hugged her friend. “I’m okay now. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Lara cocked her head and stared. “You sure?”

  Abby nodded, her lips numb and her heart aching. “I’ll have an early night. Things always look better in the morning. Isn’t that what they say?”

  “The good news is they couldn’t look much worse.”

  “Go home,” Abby said, actually managing a genuine smile. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?”

  When Lara was gone, Abby took out her phone and sent a text. What time do you want to start in the morning?

  Duncan’s reply was immediate. Let’s wait until Wednesday. I have several things to deal with in the morning.

  Her heart sank. Was he putting her off, or was he really busy? She tapped out another message. Would you like to come to my house for an early dinner tomorrow night? We need to talk about a few things.

  This time his response soothed her nerves. I’d like that. What time?

  Five thirty?

  I’ll be there.

  She hesitated but took the risk. I miss you...

  I miss you, too, lass.

  Fifteen

  Duncan spent a largely sleepless night searching for answers. He hadn’t called Brody yet. It seemed pointless to upset the rest of the family until Duncan had some answers and a plan for a way forward.

  In between worrying about his grandparents’ business and legacy, he thought about Abby. His bed had never seemed emptier than it did right now. Twenty-four hours ago, he and his curvy playmate had been burning up the sheets. One reason he had waved her off for tomorrow was that he wanted to get a handle on his feelings.

  When he was with her, everything seemed right. Without asking, she had inserted herself into his tragedy and cared for him at a time when he was most vulnerable and alone. The past few days would have been virtually unbearable had he not had Abby at his side.