Taking a determined breath, she sauntered up to the door where Ashley had lived. No one responded to her ring. Too late she noticed the For Sale sign in the yard. She went next door, where a thin, blonde woman about her own age answered. Her eyes ran over Cory’s disheveled hair, white cotton T-shirt, green shorts, and sturdy Brazilian leather sandals. Cory knew she was a mess, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had to get to EmJay.
“My sister used to live next door,” she began.
The woman nodded. “You look like her. I was thinking you might be related. I’m sorry about what happened.”
Cory breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been afraid AshDee might have moved again and that no one would know where EmJay was now.
“I’m Tamra.” The woman’s soft drawl was not as noticeable as the taxi driver’s but still present nonetheless. Cory wondered if her sister had picked up the accent.
“I’m Cory. Cory Steele.”
“Would you like to sit down?” Tamra asked. “You’re a little pale.”
“I haven’t eaten,” Cory admitted. “I just flew in from Brazil. They served something on the plane. I don’t remember what.” Or if I even ate, she added silently. She followed the woman to a room where a TV was blaring.
“We weren’t sure how to reach any family,” Tamra said, flicking off the TV with the remote. “She must have kept her address book in her purse because it wasn’t in the house. Her purse was never recovered.”
Cory fought to keep the tears from falling. “I’ve come for EmJay. Do you know where she is?”
Tamra looked surprised. “You mean Emily Jane? She’s gone. The lady across the street used to baby-sit her while Ashley went to class down at the college. When it . . . uh, happened, Emily was here playing with my daughter, but Jodi came and got her because she knew I had to work evenings. She stayed there for four, maybe five days, and then Jodi went with Ashley and Lane’s lawyer to take her someplace—Utah, I think. Apparently Ashley and Lane had arranged for someone there to take care of Emily Jane if something happened to them.”
Shocked disappointment filled Cory’s heart. The idea that everything would be settled without so much as a nod in her direction had never crossed her mind. “This attorney should be in her office on a Thursday, shouldn’t she? Do you have her name and address?”
“I bet Jodi does. I’ll give her a call. She’ll be baby-sitting, though, and won’t be able to come over.”
Cory felt dizzy, and she put her head between her knees. The next thing she knew Tamra was pushing a plate of banana bread and sliced apples into her hands. “Here’s some juice. Hope you like orange—it’s all I have.”
“Thank you.” Cory drank gratefully and felt the dizziness pass.
“Jodi gave me the address. She said not to worry, though, that the man they gave Emily Jane to must have been a good friend because when the lawyer told him about the accident, he sat down on his porch and cried.”
“They gave my niece to a man?” Surely they didn’t have all the facts.
“Yeah, Jodi wondered about that, too, but the lawyer told her he was the same religion they were and that was part of why they chose him.”
Cory nearly choked on a piece of banana bread. “He’s not even family?” She had thought perhaps the man was related to Lane.
Tamra gave her a consoling look. “Jodi says he has sisters with children and parents who live nearby. I’m sure Emily Jane is fine.”
“He probably has a wife,” Cory said.
Tamra shrugged. “If there is a wife, Jodi didn’t see her.”
Cory gulped down the rest of her food, barely chewing. “I should get going. I have a taxi waiting.” Or she hoped she still did.
She thanked Tamra for her helpfulness and left the house clutching the attorney’s address, vowing to find out firsthand exactly where they had taken her niece.
On Friday morning, Mitch was feeding Emily Jane oatmeal in the high chair when the phone rang. Or he was trying to feed her. She was having too much fun tipping her sippy cup upside down and shaking it to pay him much heed.
Mitch answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi. Dolores Clark, here.”
“Oh, hi. What’s up?”
“I called to let you know that an offer was made on the house. A bit less than I’d hoped for, but we can wait for another offer if you’d like.”
“No. I say take it. We might not have another chance.”
“That’s my feeling. The market isn’t strong right now. At least this way we won’t have to use any additional funds to make house payments.”
“Let’s sell, then.”
“There is one other thing.” Dolores paused, as if unsure how to continue. “A man named Cory Steele was here yesterday demanding to see me about Ashley. I was in an important meeting and couldn’t see him, but the receptionist noted that he stayed all afternoon. Said he’d be back this morning. Now, I don’t know who this person is, but given the name, it could be a relative.”
Mitch’s stomach twisted in knots. For weeks he’d wished that Emily Jane had relatives who could help him care for her, but now he’d accepted his role as sole guardian. What’s more, he had developed a deep attachment to Emily Jane. He loved her.
Stifling his worry, Mitch asked, “What do you think he wants?”
“Money, probably. You’d be surprised at how many people believe they’re entitled to receive something when a relative dies.”
Mitch snorted. Cory Steele, he thought. Cory Steele. What kind of a name is that? It sounded hard and stiff. Probably belonging to a little weasel of a guy, some remote relative out to steal what he could—even if it was Mormon money. Ashley’s family had disowned her, but now it seemed they would appear out of the woodwork. Well, Mitch didn’t care about the money—the lawyers could deal with that—he only cared about Emily Jane and fulfilling his friends’ last wishes.
“However,” Dolores continued, “there’s always a slight chance that he’s not here for money.”
“You mean he might want Emily Jane?” Mitch’s stomach turned at the thought. The baby was staring at him now from the high chair, her sippy cup on the floor. He gathered his wits enough to give her a bit of cereal, and she rewarded him with a grin.
“It’s an unlikely possibility.”
“But if he does?”
“Lane and Ashley gave you custody. The papers will stand up in any court. I mean, there’s always a chance of finding a loophole, but their first lawyer was thorough. When they moved here, I rechecked all the paperwork.”
Mitch blew out a sigh. “Good.”
“So how’re the plans for tomorrow’s service coming along?”
“Everything’s set. I’ve had fifteen responses from the e-mails you gave me and a lot of calls from a story in the newspaper. Should be a good-sized crowd.”
“A few people have contacted me about it. I’m not sure how they heard or how they found my address. Something related to the Graysons’ church, I believe. I’ve passed on the service information.”
“I appreciate that. Let me know what happens with this guy, okay?”
“I will. I have a meeting this morning, but I’ve left a small window before lunch if he shows up again. Meanwhile, don’t worry about it, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate.”
Mitch thanked Dolores and hung up the phone, feeling a little unnerved but determined not to worry. He fed Emily Jane another bite of cereal, marveling at the miracle of the little mouth opening and chewing. Her blue eyes sparkled. For the moment, at least, she was content. And so was he.
Cory was furious. She’d been kept waiting far too long in the attorney’s office—first yesterday and now today. What right did this lawyer have to keep her waiting? Her sister was dead, and someone had to tell her what happened to EmJay.
Sometime during the night, Cory had realized that she would have to step forward and take full custody of her niece. She had several reasons for reaching this conclusion. Th
e first was that AshDee couldn’t seriously want someone who wasn’t family rasing her child. Blood was blood. Period.
Yes, she and AshDee had been at odds, but she had always known that someday, somewhere, they would put their differences aside. Cory had dreamed about it happening several times: AshDee divorcing her husband and turning to Cory for forgiveness; AshDee coming to Cory’s wedding, though Cory hadn’t gone to hers; AshDee in the audience when Cory was receiving a Pulitzer. She’d always liked this last scenario the best, but now all their chances were over.
Not so with EmJay. Cory would accept the responsibility. She would raise EmJay as her own, fulfilling her duty as she had with her father. Only this time it would be different. She had only to look at the little face in the photograph and know that she would love EmJay in a way no one else in the world could. In return, EmJay would love Cory more than AshDee ever had. For Cory it would almost be like turning back the clock to the time before their estrangement.
There was another, powerful reason for her decision. In accepting custody of EmJay, she would be true to her father’s memory. He wouldn’t have been at all pleased to have his granddaughter raised as a Mormon.
When at last Cory was allowed to see Dolores Clark, she strode into the office, keeping her body rigid and her face stern. “Thank you for seeing me,” she said between clenched teeth.
Dolores stood, one hand pushing her long black hair over her shoulder, her eyes puzzled. “And you are?”
“Cory Steele. Didn’t your receptionist tell you? I’ve been waiting for two days!”
“She gave me a memo.” Dolores passed Cory a yellow square of paper, and Cory’s eyes riveted on the words: Cory Steele waiting urgently to see you. Will return tomorrow if you don’t make it out of your meeting by closing time.
“I had the impression you were a man,” explained Dolores, seating herself once more. “Sorry about the wait. It couldn’t be helped. Please, have a seat.”
Cory perched on the edge of a leather chair in front of the desk. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue before saying, “I’ve come about my sister.”
“Your sister?” The attorney shook her head. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. With your last name, I thought you might be here because of Ashley Steele Grayson, but perhaps you—”
“Ashley was my sister.” Cory gripped the armrests of her chair. “I’ve come about my niece. They told me you gave her to a man in Utah?”
“He was named in the will. We followed the Graysons’ instructions.”
Cory listened as the attorney outlined the details. “I didn’t realize Ashley even had a sister,” Dolores concluded. “I remember a mention of her family in the custody documents but no specific mention of a sister. I can only assume you weren’t close?”
Cory’s mouth tightened, but she refused to give Dolores the satisfaction of an answer. “I understand that my sister’s husband had no family. As AshDee’s only relative, I should be responsible for their daughter.”
“It doesn’t quite work that way.” There was no emotion on the attorney’s face, and Cory wondered if she practiced the facade in the mirror.
“I’m her only relative! There’s no one else.” Tension built in Cory’s head.
“I’m sorry, but you were not named as guardian.”
“Where is she?” Cory hated that her voice sounded shrill, out of control.
Dolores shook her head. “I’m going to have to talk to her guardian.”
Cory leapt to her feet, seething with the frustration of her two-day wait. “I want to know where she is now!” Her purse banged against the edge of the desk, scattering a few papers. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll get a court order. And if that doesn’t work, I swear, I’ll take this place apart!”
Dolores stood. “Ms. Steele, I think we can handle this without becoming violent. Sit down or I’ll call someone to escort you out.”
Taking a deep breath, Cory sat. “Sorry,” she said, trying to remain calm but not feeling a bit repentant. “I just want to make sure she’s okay. And I need to talk with her present guardian. I believe I’ll be able to work things out to everyone’s satisfaction. Will you tell me where she is?”
Dolores studied her in silence awhile before pressing a button on her intercom. “June, can you bring me the Grayson file I asked you to pull this morning? Thank you.”
Cory felt a little thrill of victory. She was going to get the address in Utah.
A young woman came into the room carrying a thin green folder. My sister’s life reduced to this folder, Cory thought, and almost wept.
“Ms. Steele, this is my assistant, June Clancy. June, this is Ashley Grayson’s sister, Cory Steele.”
“Steele?” June looked puzzled as she studied Cory. “But she didn’t have . . . wait a moment.” She opened the file. “I think I remember seeing . . . here it is, in the middle of these names.”
Dolores glanced at the line in question. Cory wished she dared jump to her feet and push them aside to see what was so compelling.
“Are you Corrine?” Dolores asked after a few interminable seconds.
“Yes, but AshDee never called me that.”
Dolores’s mouth turned upward in a slight smile. “People have a tendency to use given names in legal documents. Apparently there is a mention of you in the will. A small bequest of a photograph. I believe it’s of your mother.”
Cory instantly remembered the photograph. She’d taken it herself with her first camera all those years ago. She couldn’t have been more than eleven years old. After their mother’s death a year later, she’d asked a neighbor to have it enlarged for AshDee’s birthday. Before wrapping the picture, Cory had placed it in a pewter frame that had belonged to their grandmother.
“Do you have it?” Cory asked quickly.
“Yes. We were about to send it along to her daughter, with several other unclaimed items. But June will get it for you on your way out.”
June started for the door, motioning for Cory to follow her.
“What about the address? I need to be able to contact my niece.”
Dolores sighed and jotted something on a pad of paper before ripping off the sheet and handing it to Cory. “As I said before, I can’t give you that information until I talk to her guardian, but this is the address of a memorial service they’re holding in Utah tomorrow morning. Both your niece and her guardian will be in attendance. If you hurry, you can make the service. I’ll try to call to let them know you’re coming.”
Cory took the paper, knowing she wouldn’t get anything further from the woman. “Thank you,” she forced herself to say. Dolores inclined her head gracefully.
“Come with me,” said the assistant, “and I’ll get your picture.”
Cory followed her out the door. Yes, she would collect her picture, catch a taxi to the airport, and then, so help her, she was flying to Utah to take EmJay away from that interloping cultist or die trying.
Chapter Seven
Mitch took his time dressing Emily Jane on Saturday morning, exactly three weeks after she’d been put in his arms. Today was special—and not only because it marked the first three difficult, life-changing weeks they had spent together. Today they would attend the memorial service for Emily Jane’s parents.
The baby grinned at him as he finished buttoning her red blouse and started on her hair. When he was finished, she promptly pulled out the bow. Sighing, he gave her some paper to play with until he had the hair ready again. Then he rescued the paper before it became her second breakfast. Her shoes and socks were a breeze. Shoes meant going “bye-bye,” and Emily Jane loved leaving the house with him. “All ready,” he said at last.
Mitch picked up Emily Jane and swung her onto his shoulders. Giggling, she thrust her hands into his hair and hung on tight. She was almost sleeping through the night now. When she did wake, he only had to reach down into her bed and hold her little hand or pat her stomach until she went back to sleep. It wasn’t a perfect system, but
it was working. His research, however, still suffered. Emily Jane didn’t like to share his attention during the day, and the truth was, he had a hard time pulling himself away from her. She had rapidly become more important than wolves to him.
At the church near his parents’ house in Alpine, people were already arriving. As he walked in the foyer, he immediately spied a guy he knew from his mission to Brazil.
“Elder Lundgren!” he said, shifting Emily Jane to his left hip.
“Elder Huntington!” They shook hands firmly.
“Only it’s Mitch now. And you’re . . . Roger?”
“Yep, that’s me. I grew a little.” Roger patted his stomach. “Now my wife’s complaining that I’m starting to lose my hair. But you’ve gained weight, too, Mitch. Not enough, but it looks good on you.”
Mitch grinned. “I ate eggs every day for three months to gain weight.”
“Did you? That reminds me of the time Lane snuck into that old hen house and stole those eggs. Remember?”
Mitch hadn’t until now. He laughed. “Can you believe he tried to juggle them?”
Roger let out a loud guffaw. “Ha! I’ll never get over the sight of him wiping raw egg out of his eyes.”
It was just these memories that Mitch craved. Biting back tears, he bounced the baby in his arms. “This is Emily Jane.”
“She looks like Lane’s wife, doesn’t she? I saw the picture you have set up here. Beautiful child.”
Mitch nodded his agreement. “It’s good to see you, Roger. Glad you came.”
There were many more guests—some he knew from Brazil, others from Lane’s old ward, and even five college friends of Ashley’s. Some had come alone, while others had brought their families. In all, they filled up nearly half the chapel.
Lane and Ashley’s former bishop spoke first, and afterward he invited any who wanted to speak to come up to the pulpit. As Mitch listened to stories of Lane and Ashley, he felt that his friends weren’t far away. He was glad he’d asked Tyler to videotape the event for Emily Jane.
Huntington Family Series Page 36
