“I don’t have a flower—”
Augustine held out a long-stemmed red rose to her. She hadn’t seen him holding it. Maybe he’d pulled it from the spray on the buggy when they came in. She took it and went inside.
The urn was set into a niche in the wall. There were other urns, and some caskets, too, but she forced her mind to blank them out and concentrate on the only one that mattered. She set her flower beside Lally’s carnation. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really wish things had been different between us. I do love you. And I will… try to be more like the person—the fae—you wanted me to be. Someday.” Her mother would understand what she meant.
She stepped back outside. A sharply dressed man approached the crypt. Augustine put Lally behind him and moved to stand in the man’s path. “Can I help you?”
The man stopped, his gaze coming to rest on Harlow for a moment before he answered. “I’d like to speak to Harlow.”
The small hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention for no reason she could name other than the way Augustine was acting. If he thought the man was dangerous, she was happy to go along with that. He stayed where he was, blocking the man’s path. “Who are you and what’s your business with her?”
The man had a high, sloped forehead and when he smiled, his eyes crinkled in a way that shouldn’t have seemed threatening, but gave her a strange vibe. “That’s between Harlow and me.”
She came down the steps but kept some distance between her and the man. “What’s your name?” Was he a creditor? A CCU agent? Could they have tracked her here? Of course they could have. Damn it. Her fine wasn’t due for at least three more weeks.
“My name is Joseph Branzino.” He held the smile while he looked at Harlow. “I’m your father.”
“I don’t like this.” Augustine paced the kitchen while Lally cleaned up the few remaining things the caterers had left behind. The way that man had laid claim to Harlow didn’t sit right. “I don’t like him, I don’t like how readily she agreed to talk to him, I don’t like how he just showed up.”
Lally sighed heavily, shaking her head. “I don’t like it, either. And I know Miss Olivia didn’t like him, but that’s Harlow’s father. Of course she’s going to talk to him. Child’s been trying to find out who he was for years. Miss Olivia told her he was dead, for land’s sake.”
“How do we know that’s her father? Did Livie ever tell you the man’s name?”
“Never.” She sank a pot into hot water. “Miss Olivia never talked about him except to say he was bad, bad news. Poison, she called him. You think he’s making it up? That he ain’t really her father?”
“Maybe. Harlow’s set to inherit a lot of property.”
“Man looks like he has plenty of his own, but I see your point.” Lally set the kettle on for tea.
“I’m not okay with this.”
“I don’t feel that good about it myself.” She pulled cups from one of the cabinets. “But what can we do? If Harlow wants to talk to him, who are we to say she can’t?”
“She can talk to him. But I don’t have to like him. Especially not if Livie thought he was poison. In fact—” A knock at the back door kept Augustine from going on. He opened it. “Fenton. Come in.”
Leather doctor-style bag in hand, the Elektos walked into the kitchen. “What’s going on? You seem agitated.”
“A man showed up at the cemetery claiming to be Harlow’s biological father.” He looked at the bag. “Are those the ashes?”
Fenton nodded. “Yes. I replaced the liner bag with another filled with wood ash. It won’t hold up if it’s checked, but I can’t imagine that happening.”
Augustine shrugged. “And if they do? So what. Livie wanted her ashes spread on the fae plane and that’s all that matters to me. If they say we can’t keep her urn in the cemetery, we’ll bring it home.”
Fenton looked toward the interior of the house. “This man who claims to be Harlow’s father, you think he’s not?”
“I think it’s bloody convenient he showed up now. And apparently, Olivia never liked him, either.”
Lally worried a lace-edged handkerchief. “Even though I believe the child should talk to him if she wants to, I agree with Augustine. The man’s timing makes a person wonder.”
Augustine ran a hand through his hair. “Harlow’s vulnerable right now. The thought of getting a crack at a relationship with the one parent who’s been kept from her all these years might be more than she can resist.”
Fenton pulled out a chair and sat. “What do you know about him? Is he fae? Do you at least have a name?”
“Joseph Branzino. And yes, he’s fae, but I don’t know what kind. He’s hiding it somehow, but I can still tell.”
Fenton took out his LMD and started tapping on it. He expanded something, then turned the screen around so Augustine could see it. “This the man talking to Harlow?”
“That’s him.”
Fenton started reading from the copy beneath the picture. “Says here he’s a businessman from Chicago. Imports and exports.”
The kettle whistled. Lally removed it from the fire and added the hot water to the teapot. “I told you he had money.”
Fenton tapped the screen dark, tucked the LMD away and stood. “The info online is suspiciously tidy. Let me dig a little deeper with our resources and see what I can find out. Also, I couldn’t find anything unusual about Petrick Hayden, but I’ll continue to dig.”
“Good. I’ll come by in the morning and we can talk about this more.” Augustine nodded at the bag on the table. “And thanks for helping me with Olivia.”
“It’s what we do.” Fenton tipped his head at Lally. “Ms. Hughes.”
As he left, Lally brought the teapot to the table. “You going to take those ashes to the fae plane now?”
“Not yet.” Augustine stared toward the library. He wanted to barge in, see what was going on. Make sure everything was okay. “Not while there’s the slightest chance Harlow’s in danger.”
Her father was alive. Every nerve in Harlow’s body pinged with energy. She was nervous and scared and excited and incredulous all at the same time. Hell, she was that and more. Sitting still took a lot of effort. She wanted to stand, to pace, to expend some of what was coursing through her. But more than that, she wanted answers. Fortunately, the man across from her seemed interested in providing them. “Why did you wait so long to contact me?”
Joseph’s smile went sad. “Olivia made me promise. When I saw that she’d passed on—may she rest in peace—I no longer felt obliged to that promise.”
That made sense, didn’t it? “I see.” She had so many questions, but she also had doubt. “I don’t mean to sound… that is, how do I know…” She bit her lip. “It’s just that I have no way of knowing if you’re really my father.”
He nodded. “I understand that. If I were in your position, I’m sure I’d have doubts, too.” He touched his chest. “It’s my own fault we’re starting at zero. I should have pushed your mother more to let me be a part of your life, but…” He shrugged. “Your mother was a very stubborn woman.”
Harlow smiled. “She was that. She told me you were dead.”
He snorted softly. “That sounds like her.” He shook his head. “Look, I’d be happy to submit to a blood test, if that would make you more comfortable.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said. But it would never happen. Determining paternity would mean testing her blood, too, and that would reveal just how much fae she had in her, something she preferred not to know. “Why do you think my mother refused to tell me anything about you? She talked about you like you were… not a good person.” That was putting it mildly.
His head dropped. “After you were born, I lost my head a little. I tried to get custody of you. Sole custody. It turned into something very ugly. I’m not surprised your mother wouldn’t tell you about me. She was probably afraid she’d lose you to me.”
“Why didn’t you try to contact me?”
“Like I said, it got ugly. There were… documents restricting what I could do.” He waved his hands like he was trying to make the past go away. “I would do anything to make it possible for us to be family now. To make up for all the years I’ve missed out on.”
She liked the sound of that, even if she didn’t totally believe a man like this would let documents keep him from doing anything. Maybe it was something he wasn’t ready to talk about. She could understand that, but he had better be ready to talk about some things. “Can I ask you something personal?”
He slid forward on the couch, inching closer. “Sure, sweetheart. Ask me anything you like.”
She licked her lips. His answer could end this conversation very quickly. “You’re human, right?”
For a nanosecond, he looked shocked, but his expression smoothed out, going right back to the calm demeanor he’d had the whole time. He shrugged like it was nothing to be concerned with. “Of course, I’m human.” He laughed. “I have a little fae in me, but not enough to matter.” He tipped his head and sat back. “And not nearly as much as your mother, I might add, although she liked to hide it.”
She’d expected him to deny or embrace, but this casualness threw her. And destroyed the belief she’d always had that her biological father was completely human. How much fae did he have? Was there any way he could be behind the strength of her abilities? How much more fae was Olivia than she’d let on?
Nothing she’d wanted to believe had turned out to be true. Her spirits sank a little.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Disappointed, but it was better knowing.
His suit fabric had an expensive sheen to it and the lines looked like it had been cut for him. Which it probably had. He adjusted his jacket. “Can I ask you a question?”
She ran her thumbnail down the seam of her leggings. “Sure. Fair is fair.”
His laugh came out low and throaty. “Funny. I say that all the time.”
“You do?”
He held his hands out like he was holding dinner plates. “Fair is fair. That’s my thing.”
She sat back, realizing a second later she was smiling along with him. Maybe it was okay that her father had a little fae in him, especially when it didn’t seem like it was keeping him from being normal. Her father. The word got more comfortable by the minute. “What did you want to ask me?”
He spiraled a finger in the air, gesturing to the room around him. “This house. I’m guessing it’s yours now. You need any money for the upkeep? I know a place like this can’t be cheap and I’d be happy to help you out.”
“Are you serious?” A tiny spark of hope flared to life inside her like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
“That’s what a father does, you know?” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ve known about you all your life. No matter what you think of me, to me you’ll always be my little girl.”
An overwhelming rush of new emotion swept through her. She did her best to tamp down her excitement and focus on getting to know this man before she became indebted to him. “Do I have brothers and sisters?”
“Three brothers, but one is deceased—may he rest in peace.” Joseph crossed himself. “I’d be happy for you to meet them when you’re ready. As for daughters, you’re my one and only.”
She sat quietly, trying to process everything. His only daughter. Surely he’d want to keep her from prison, wouldn’t he? She shook her head. That was a crass thought, born out of her own desperation. She would not ask him for money.
“Something wrong, sweetheart?”
She forced a little smile. “This is a lot for me to take in.”
He picked up his hat from the cushion next to him. “I should go, give you time to think and all that.” He stood. “Maybe I could come see you tomorrow? Or I could take you out to dinner? Whatever you like.”
“Sure.” She had so many more questions. So much more to discuss. With her father. The word made her giddy.
He pulled a card from his pocket. “Here’s my number. You can call or text me with whatever you’d like to do. Even if… you don’t want me to come around anymore.”
She stood and took the card. It was thick white stock with engraved black lettering. A pretty fancy card considering most people exchanged info electronically these days. His business must really be successful. How could Olivia have thought he was such a bad guy? Because he wanted custody of his daughter? Because he’d wanted to be a father? “About the house…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t own it. Not all of it. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be keeping it. I’d sell it in a heartbeat.” Well, maybe not a heartbeat, but for some unnamed reason she didn’t want him to think she cared about this place too much.
“What do you mean not all of it?”
“Olivia’s will left me exactly half. The other half went to Augustine, the fae who was with me at the cemetery. Supposedly, the estate can pretty much run itself with my mother’s investments. But your offer was very generous and kind, considering you hardly know me.”
“Half the freaking house?” His face took on a cruel twist. “What was your mother playing at?”
Harlow held the card with both hands. Olivia loved her games. “I have a feeling, but it’s fine, really. Things have a way of working themselves out.”
“Can you buy the other half off this chump, Augustine?”
Her father’s assessment of Augustine rankled more than expected. “Mr. Branzino, Augustine isn’t a chump. He’s been very nice to me—”
Branzino snorted. “Sweetheart, you’re a beautiful woman who stands between him and the other half of this place. I can’t imagine he’d be anything but nice to you.”
“I…” The idea that Augustine might think her beautiful had thrown her more than Branzino’s idea that Augustine was playing her. Imagine if Branzino knew they’d already kissed. And that she’d liked it, despite not wanting to. “I don’t think—”
“What’s he want for his half? How much does he want for you to buy him out?”
“We haven’t discussed it. Well, not exactly.”
“But he gave you a price, am I right?”
She felt a little ill as she nodded. Maybe her father’s assessment wasn’t that far off. “He did. Five million.”
Branzino whistled. “The boy’s got a pair, I’ll give him that.” He buttoned his overcoat. “Tell him you’ll give him two. He says no, you go as high as four. When he says yes, you call me and I’ll take care of it.”
“Take care of it?” She stared at him, knowing what he was saying but not really comprehending. “You mean give me the money?”
He winked at her. “For my baby girl? You betcha.”
Chapter Twenty-one
As soon as Augustine heard the front door close, he raced to the foyer. Harlow stood there, her back against the door, looking a little dazed. He tried to judge her mood. “You okay?”
She nodded, eyes still not focused on him. “Yeah, I’m good, but I have a lot to think about.”
“Like whether or not he’s really your father?”
Finally, she made eye contact. “I’m pretty sure he’s my father.”
Augustine snorted derisively. “On what grounds? How conveniently he timed his appearance?”
She raised her hand. “Enough, okay? I have a lot in my head right now and I don’t need your opinion mucking it all up.”
He stepped back. “Excuse me for caring. You run hot and cold, you know that? Makes it really hard to be friends with you when I don’t know—”
“I’m not my mother. I don’t need you to be friends with me. And I don’t need you to protect me.”
His expression softened. “I know what it’s like to wonder about your father.”
“Do you? Then you know what that hole inside of your heart feels like, that hole that can’t be filled because the piece that fits there is missing. I’ve lived with that all my life and that’s long enough.”
“I guess I und
erstand that. I never knew my father—still don’t—but I can’t say it’s had that much effect on me. Maybe because he didn’t care enough about me to make the effort, either, so—”
“Olivia kept my father away from me with a court order because he wanted custody of me. He wanted to be my father and she wouldn’t let him.” She pushed off the door and strode past him, clomping up the steps like she was on a mission. The slam of her bedroom door followed.
“Damn it,” he muttered. Branzino must have done something to upset her. That was the only explanation he could come up with for Harlow’s reaction.
“What’s the racket?” Lally came out from the kitchen, a tea towel slung over her shoulder.
With a final glance upstairs, he shook his head. “I’m not sure things went so well with Harlow and her”—he made air quotes—“father.”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “I do not like that man and I do not like all this chaos in this house. It ain’t healthy.” She pointed upstairs. “And that child got enough on her plate with her mother being dead. If her daddy’s going to come out of nowhere and cause trouble, I might have to have a talk with him myself.”
Augustine bit back a smile. “Hold on, there, Lally. I know you mean well, but until we know exactly who this Branzino character is, I don’t think either one of us should confront him.”
“Maybe you’re right.” She frowned as she spoke.
“I know. It’s hard to wrap your head around me being the reasonable one, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She laughed. “Miss Olivia would never believe it.”
“Speaking of which… now that our visitor is gone, I’ll go take care of her final wish.”
Lally’s smile evened out. “I’ll fetch the bag for you.”
“I’ll go grab my return mirror and change.”
“Don’t change.” Lally’s gaze traveled the length of him. “You look so nice in your suit. Seems fitting you wear it for this one last thing, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.”
“Good. I’ll bring you the ashes and the same mirror you borrowed last time.” She went back to the kitchen, returning shortly. “Here you go.” Her hand stayed on the purple satin bag holding Olivia’s ashes a second longer than necessary. “If you see her… you tell her I took care of everything just like she wanted, okay?”
House of the Rising Sun Page 24
