by Terri Reed
“But this night isn’t just about us,” Charles said. “Douglas and Merry have something they’d like to share.”
Ryan snickered. “I bet I can guess.”
Curiosity piqued, she slanted him a glance. “Oh?”
He mouthed the word baby just as Douglas spoke.
“Merry and I are expecting.”
More cheers and clapping engulfed the party. A new child would be welcomed and loved by all of these people. Georgina would be welcomed and loved, as well. Maybe one day Meghan and Georgina could be a part of this family.
“How did you know?” she asked Ryan.
“Lucky guess.”
“What a blessing for them,” she said, her eyes on the happy couple as they accepted congratulatory hugs and kisses from the family. Yearning spread through Meghan, making her heart ache to hold Georgina.
Ryan pulled her close to his side. “Soon Georgina will be with us.”
Us? “Did you talk to your dad?” The real possibility that the Fitzgeralds might want custody stirred her anxiety.
He shook his head. “Not yet. Tomorrow after church or Monday I’ll sit him down and find out what he’s thinking.”
He didn’t look too eager to do that. She could only imagine Ryan was still upset with his dad. She prayed he’d find a way to forgive his father so they could move on.
“Hey, I wanted to ask if you’d like to join the family for dinner tomorrow night,” Ryan said.
Pleased by the invitation, she nodded. Maybe she had found more than just Georgina here in Fitzgerald Bay. Finally, she was finding a place to belong. Once they had Georgina with them, her world would be complete. “Yes. I’d love it.”
* * *
Monday morning Meghan dressed in a tailored pantsuit and low heels for her meeting with the law firm of Schwartzmiller and Dean. She drove to Boston early, giving herself a buffer of time in case she ran into traffic. She hadn’t expected the reply to her email query to result in such a quick meeting.
When she’d returned home yesterday from the church services, the reply had been waiting for her. Who knew law offices worked on the weekend? An unusual occurrence as far as she knew, but she wasn’t complaining. She wanted the custody issued ASAP.
The email had listed information she needed to gather for her 9:00 a.m. meeting. That forced her to bow out of having dinner with Ryan and his family Sunday evening.
He’d understood, and to her excitement, asked her to have dinner with him Monday night. Just the two of them.
Life was looking up after the stress and trauma of the week before.
She parked in the law firm’s parking garage. Clutching her file folder of requested information, she walked through the parking structure toward the elevator.
The squeal of tires echoed off the concrete walls.
“Watch out!” A woman stepping from the elevator shouted a warning.
Meghan turned to face a dark sedan barreling toward her. She barely jumped out of the way before the car streaked past.
“You okay?” the woman asked with concern.
Heart pumping and fear tightening her muscles, Meghan nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.” If completely freaked out counted. Was she being paranoid to think the driver of the car had deliberately tried to run her down?
“That guy was a total jerk,” the woman muttered as she walked away to her own car.
On shaky legs, Meghan made her way upstairs. Once there she gave her name to the men at the front desk, then she was escorted through a metal detector and put on another elevator to the tenth floor.
Meghan was greeted by a fortysomething woman with red hair and stylish glasses perched on her nose. She held out her hand. “I’m Carol Marsden.”
The name of the sender on the email that set the appointment. “Nice to meet you. I’m so glad you could meet with me today.”
Carol laughed. “Not me, honey. One of the partners. Come along.”
Meghan was surprised by that news. And curious. Why was a partner in one of Boston’s biggest law firms interested in her custody case?
Carol led her to a conference room. “Mr. Dean will be right in.” A pitcher of water and glasses sat on top of the oval mahogany table.
“Please help yourself to a glass of water.” She gestured toward a sideboard with a pot of coffee steamed on a warmer next to a stack of ceramic mugs. “Or a cup of coffee.”
Meghan sat in one of the leather captain’s chairs, laid down her file folder and poured herself some water. Her hand shook. She took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Ryan was sure Roman wouldn’t come after her, especially in such a public way. There was no reason to think the incident in the parking garage was related to Christina, Georgina or Roman Wykoski. She remembered how she’d kept having the strange feeling she was being watched all weekend. Paranoid.
Still, she’d tell Ryan when she returned to Fitzgerald Bay.
A distinguished-looking man entered the room. He had to be in his sixties. His navy pin-striped suit and red tie screamed power. And money. Meghan swallowed, thankful this meeting was a free consultation.
“I’m Frank Dean,” he said, holding out a manicured hand.
She rose to shake his hand. “Meghan Henry.”
“Is this the information I requested?” He picked up the file folder.
“Yes.”
He moved to a chair across from her and silently read through the contents of the folder. When he was done, he snapped it shut and stared at her.
Nerves had Meghan’s foot tapping beneath the table.
“The letter is compelling,” Dean finally said.
“My cousin’s wish was that I raise her child.”
“I understand Christina Hennessy has been arrested and is in jail.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I knew Burke,” he admitted.
Ah. So that was why he was seeing her. “His death was a tragedy.”
He nodded. “You do realize that seeking custody of Georgina Hennessy will be a challenge.”
THIRTEEN
Meghan swallowed back the trepidation clogging her throat. “I’m up for it. I want her. I love her.”
“Good. I know Burke loved her, too. It horrifies me that Christina killed him.”
“She hasn’t been convicted of the crime,” Meghan said.
“True.” He steepled his hands. “And not our concern here today. Gaining custody of Georgina is. There are some things that need to be set in place before we bring a custody motion before a judge.”
“Like?”
“The most basic hurdle is you have no viable income. Freelance journalism hasn’t netted you very much financial stability.”
She winced. “I still have money from my parents’ life insurance.” Eventually those funds would run out, though. Something she’d known, but since she lived a frugal life as her parents had taught her, she hadn’t ever been too worried about her finances, figuring when the time came, she’d step up her income.
“Which isn’t enough to sustain you and Georgina for very long. Especially after you get my bill.”
Her stomach sank.
“We need to have something more substantial to bring before the judge to prove you can provide for the child in question.”
Blood pounded in her ears. “Like what?”
“The recent sale of a story that generates a decent wage and the possibility for future earnings. Or a job offer that will provide a steady income and benefits. Or you get married to a man with stable employment. Once that problem is solved, then we can move on to the others, which frankly aren’t many.”
She swallowed hard. Her mind raced. Good-paying jobs for more than an hourly rate were scarce in Fitzgerald
Bay. She doubted waitressing at the Sugar Plum or scooping ice cream at the local parlor was what Mr. Dean had in mind. She’d have to return to Boston and pray she found something that would start right away and pay well. Her heart squeezed tight. She didn’t want to leave Fitzgerald Bay. She liked the path her life was taking there.
But the alternative was unthinkable. She had to get custody of Georgina.
She could write the piece she’d already sketched out. The article could send her career on an income-generating path if CNN picked it up, like the editor at Boston City News hoped.
Or the last option was to get married.
There was only one man she’d consider for the job of husband. Ryan.
She’d fallen in love with him. She was ready to trust her heart and life to him. He was honorable and brave. A man of integrity. Gruff at times, but with a tender heart that made her feel safe and special.
But did he love her?
Cared for her, yes.
Found her attractive, she hoped so. The way he kissed her said he did.
But love?
They hardly knew each other. At least romantically. Chasing a madwoman across state lines and one social date didn’t count as much of a courtship.
A marriage took time and commitment. A wedding couldn’t just happen overnight, either.
Unless they eloped.
An elopement would solve everything. Well, if she had a willing groom. Doubts assailed her. What if Ryan didn’t love her?
Then where would she be?
Back to the only real viable option. Writing the piece she’d promised to deliver to the editor at Boston City News.
She had to write the article. For Georgina. For herself. She couldn’t risk not writing the piece.
She only hoped and prayed she wouldn’t have to sell it.
Tonight, she would find out where she stood with Ryan. Then she’d know what she had to do.
* * *
Ryan arrived at Meghan’s house a little before six with dinner from the Sugar Plum Café in a to-go bag. He’d decided he wanted to spend the evening alone with Meghan instead of in public view. Already people were linking them as a couple. And strangely he didn’t mind.
He was falling for her, hook, line and sinker.
But he’d take it slow. She’d been hurt badly in the past. Something he never intended to do.
She opened the door to him with a beaming smile that took his breath away. He drew her close with his free hand. She laid her cheek against his chest. “I’m so happy to see you.”
As welcomes went, this rated right up at the top. “I’m happy to see you, too.”
She drew back. “Did you make your field trip to see Christina today?”
He shook his head. “No. They bumped her move until tomorrow morning. I’ll speak with her then. I have a feeling she’ll stick to her story that Burke killed Olivia. She’ll likely say he attacked both of them at the cliffs—and that’s how her DNA ended up on the rock. We probably won’t ever know for sure unless she confesses.”
The news didn’t sit well. She wanted justice for her cousin. If Burke did kill Olivia then his penance would be paid in the afterlife. But Meghan wanted to make Christina pay for her part in Olivia’s death. “She could be let go?”
“No. The D.A. has enough evidence to convict on Burke’s death. So either way, she’s going to stay in prison for a long time.”
“What about Mr. Sharp?”
He’d given them the lead that eventually made rescuing Georgina possible. It was only by the grace of God that Meghan and the children hadn’t been hurt. She and Ryan had saved the children. There was no question in his mind that God had been with them. “Sharp’s in general lockup at Rikers. He’ll be staying.”
“Good. Justice prevailed on that account.” She hugged him again. He breathed in the clean scent of her shampoo. He was right where he wanted to be.
“Yum, that smells delicious.” She stepped out of his arms. He wanted to pull her close again.
“I love that you brought dinner here,” she said, taking the bag from him and heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll put this on plates. The table’s already set.”
He glanced around, taking stock of her cottage. He’d admired the cottage from afar for along time. His own place just down the beach was a real money pit. A fixer-upper that he didn’t have time to fix up. He could see the potential in the A-frame house but some days he couldn’t get past the peeling paint, leaking pipes and ancient kitchen. But he much preferred Meghan’s cozy house.
Everything had a lived-in look from the floral couch, the Queen Anne chair to the round oak dining table near the window. Vases full of fresh flowers added an extra cheeriness to the antique furnishings.
He heard the bang of cupboards and the clank of dishes. “Can I help?” he called out.
“No. Just have a seat,” she called back.
He moved toward the dining table near the side picture window. In the light of day there would be a nice view of the ocean. Tonight, however, only darkness lay beyond the glass pane.
A laptop sitting open precariously close to the edge of a couch cushion, as if hastily set aside, drew his attention. Meghan must have been working. He nudged it to place it in a more secure position and the screen lit up.
The headline and byline snagged his attention.
Baby Smuggling and the Fitzgerald Bay Connection
By Meghan Henry.
Hardly daring to breathe, let alone believe what he was seeing, Ryan read the article. Horror grew with each word. When he’d finished reading, he sank down onto the couch, feeling boneless.
The story painted a sad picture of a young girl reaching out in desperation to the father she never knew. And that man, her father—Ryan’s father—Aiden Fitzgerald, the man running for mayor of Fitzgerald Bay—refused to help his illegitimate daughter, thus sending the girl on a doomed path. The story continued on, chronicling the events leading to the arrest of socialite Christina Hennessy and the rescue of three innocent lives from human traffickers.
The words blurred on the screen. His eyes burned. The double-edged sword of betrayal sliced through his heart. The hurt was raw and jagged. The anger he’d felt for his father rose with a vengeance.
Along with a new anger.
Meghan, his Meghan, had written an exposé that could destroy his family.
In his eyes, that was unforgivable.
* * *
Meghan returned to the living room carrying a tray laden with steaming plates of chicken Parmesan, sides of broccoli and rice and a basket of sourdough rolls. Ryan sat on the couch. In his hands was her laptop. The ice frosting his gaze sent a chill down her spine. She stopped abruptly. A piece of broccoli bounced off a plate and disappeared beneath the couch.
“You can’t do this,” he said, his voice hard and cold.
Fighting back the sudden fear that griped her, she stepped forward. Ryan was not like her ex-husband. He would not take out his anger on her.
Slowly, she set down the tray on the coffee table. “Let me explain.”
He jumped to his feet. “You mean explain how you shoved a knife into my back.”
Heart pounding, she held her ground and contemplated how best to diffuse the situation. “I saw a lawyer today. He suggested—”
“That you destroy my family?”
“No.” She reached out for him. He jerked back. Hurt, she let her hand drop to her side. “He said I need to show an income from my writing if I have any hope of gaining custody of Georgina.” She planned to tell him this over their dinner. This and that she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. “The editor at Boston City News will pay handsomely for this article.”
“There has to
be another way than this…this garbage.”
His words ripped into her. Her defenses rose. She didn’t think bringing up the other option of marriage would go over well now. “The public deserves to know the whole story before they elect Aiden to the mayor’s seat.”
“The way you spin this, you make him out to be a monster.”
“I only wrote what I know to be true.”
“The truth is more complicated than this.” He snapped the laptop closed and tossed it onto the couch. “What about us, Meghan?”
The tortured expression on his face hammered at her resolve.
“I love you,” she admitted, hating how hollow the words sounded. Nothing like the way she’d pictured declaring her love for him.
He scoffed. “And this is how you show it?”
“This isn’t about you. I need a way to support Georgina. I’m a journalist, Ryan. I write what needs to be told.” She had to make him understand that she had to do this. “I have to submit this, Ryan. My editor has promised me the front page. If CNN picks it up—”
“CNN?” he groaned and fell back a step.
“It could make the difference in the custody hearing. I’m a single woman. I need to show that I can financially provide for Georgina.”
“And you think the way to do that is by destroying my family. Her family.”
Meghan sucked in a sharp breath. “Your father turned his back on her. On Olivia.”
“Please, don’t do this.” In two long strides he closed the distance between them. “I’m begging you, please don’t do this.”
Her heart lurched at the idea that this big, proud man would beg for anything. Maybe there was a chance they could salvage their relationship. If he could only see this from her point of view. “Ryan—”
He took her hand and held on tight. “You’ll drag us all through the mud. Georgina included. Think about her. Think about how this will affect her growing up if all the world knows the horrible details of her birth and her mother.”
He didn’t play fair.
“I’ll protect her.”
He dropped his hand. The chill in his gaze returned, freezing in its intensity. “You won’t be able to protect her from the gossip and rumors. She’ll always live under a cloud if you print this story.”
