Faith arrived at her mother’s small house and found Lanie still wearing her nightgown, in bed crying hysterically.
“Mom?”
“How could he?” Lanie pointed to the magazine on her lap with a shaking hand.
Faith’s legs felt wooden as she crossed the bedroom floor. “What is it?”
“An interview.”
Faith picked up the copy of the News Journal magazine and stared at her father’s familiar face. His hair was grayer and a few more lines creased his skin, but his expression hadn’t changed. What a younger, more naive Faith hadn’t noticed was the arrogance in his eyes and posture. Prison hadn’t diminished either of those traits.
With dread, Faith flipped to the beginning of the article.
“You might want to sit down. It’s long,” her mother suggested.
Faith turned and faced the parent who’d never acted like one. “Did you know about this before it hit the stands?”
Lanie glanced down at her hands. “The reporter called and asked if he could interview me.”
“Of course you agreed.” Her mother would grasp at any chance at fame or publicity, never bothering to think about the repercussions. “What did you tell them?”
“The truth as I saw it. Among other things, that your father was either misunderstood or misguided but not an evil man at heart. Unfortunately, they printed selectively.”
Faith swallowed hard. “What quotes did they use?”
“Ones about my old life. What things I miss most now.” Lanie didn’t glance up or meet Faith’s gaze.
“In other words, you came off sounding like an unrepentant spoiled brat?”
Now her mother glanced up, startled. “Don’t speak to me that way!”
Faith sighed and lowered herself into a Queen Anne–style chair in the corner, magazine still in her hand. “Don’t you think the time for cushioning our words and pretending are over?”
Lanie waved her hand at Faith. “Just read it.”
Faith settled in to pore over her father’s words. At the headline on the cover, “Anatomy of a Scam,” any hope that her mother was overreacting died a quick death. Faith read the article, her stomach in knots and cramping, her head pounding. Because for once in her life, Lanie Harrington hadn’t exaggerated.
Martin Harrington had bared his soul and, in doing so, revealed he had none. Her once beloved father didn’t deny any of his wrongdoing. He’d known from the beginning that what he was doing was both illegal and immoral, but when the money started pouring in he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he and his family had lived a lifestyle of opulence and luxury.
Did he feel guilt? he was asked. For the people whose life savings he’d lost? No, he did not. Those same people who complained now hadn’t batted an eyelash when he’d made them profits beyond their wildest dreams. If they’d enjoyed the fruits of his labors then, who were they to find fault now? To Martin Harrington, it hardly seemed fair that he was in jail, estranged from his wife and only child.
At the mention of her name, nausea rose in Faith’s throat. Because her father didn’t stop there. He went on to elaborate on how Faith’s marriage to Carter Moreland had united two powerhouses—Martin in business, Carter in the legal arena—bringing more clients to Harrington Investment Securities—and more money to the associates whom Carter Moreland had introduced to Martin Harrington. He’d incriminated Carter by implication and dirtied Faith by extension.
Faith had believed that by distancing herself from her father, she had nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, she’d thought of herself as another one of Martin Harrington’s victims. No way in hell would she or anyone else ever see her that way again. She’d lived off her father’s money, then Carter’s. And if the article implied his guilt, Faith had both known and had benefited from her ex-husband’s guilt to gain what she believed to be a fair divorce settlement. But there was nothing fair about anything or anyone who’d been in Martin Harrington’s life. This article made her seem guilty by association. And she was.
Faith looked up at her mother through tear-filled eyes.
“I was so wrong about him,” Lanie admitted at last.
Faith licked her dry lips. “We both were.”
“But you accepted it long before me. How could he do this to us? How could he allow this magazine to show us in this light?” her mother asked, her voice cracking.
Faith rose and crossed the room, seating herself on the edge of the mattress. She didn’t recall ever cuddling with her mother on her bed. But the past didn’t matter. The present did.
“The magazine isn’t at fault, Mom. Dad is. He did these things. He admitted them. And he had no problem throwing us under the bus along with him.” It hurt Faith to verbalize the painful truth to her mother.
The woman beside her had been beaten down and broken. Whether or not the outside world thought Lanie Harrington deserved sympathy, Faith understood how important her status in life was to her mother. After her father’s guilty plea, Faith knew just how far her mother had fallen.
For the first time, Lanie Harrington knew it too. And Faith pitied her.
“What am I going to do?” Lanie asked, childlike as she sought advice from her daughter.
Faith forced a grim smile. “Exactly what I’m doing. Rebuild your life from the bottom up with a new awareness of who you are and who you want to be.”
The only problem was that Faith’s perspective on those things had just undergone a drastic one eighty.
“Do you think I can do that?” her mother asked.
Faith nodded. “Of course you can. I’m more than willing to help—but you have to be willing to meet me halfway.”
Faith laid out rules for her mother to follow. Lanie’s answer would tell Faith whether or not she had a chance at a real mother–daughter relationship.
“I’m not sure I know what you want from me,” her mother said honestly.
For Faith, that was a start. “It means calling me to talk, being honest about your feelings and what’s going on in your life. And most important, it means accepting that you aren’t the lady of the manor anymore. You aren’t any better than anyone else in Serendipity and you need to start acting more humble.”
Lanie wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth like a little girl. “You don’t ask for much,” her mother said, sarcastically but without bite.
“No, not much. I’m just asking you to be human,” Faith said wryly.
A genuine, somewhat pained smile touched her mother’s face. Without makeup, her age lines were more apparent, the real person more evident without the mask of wealth and haughtiness she normally wore.
Faith wondered if it would last. “I could use some help at the shop,” she said, venturing another step toward forging a relationship. “It would mean answering the phones, maybe making some cold calls, helping me drum up business. I couldn’t afford to pay you much, but over time I hope that would change.” She waited while her mother processed what Faith was asking.
“You want me to work for you?” Lanie sounded surprised.
Faith nodded. What she really wanted was to give her mother an excuse to leave the house and face people—before hiding out became permanent.
“Can I think about it?” Lanie asked.
“Just don’t take too long. After this article, I may have a ton of applicants banging down the door.” Faith winced at the bad joke.
For the first time in a long time, her mother laughed.
Ethan showered and rushed downstairs. He didn’t want to be late to pick up Tess and face his brother’s wrath. Better to be early and get his sister out of there without giving Nash added ammunition for an argument.
Grabbing his car keys from the kitchen counter, he was about to head to the garage when Rosalita cornered him.
“Oh, Mr. Ethan, bad news.” She muttered something unintelligible in Spanish.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Oh, that Mr. Harrington, he’s a very bad man.” She crossed herself as if to ward away evil spirits.
At the mention of Faith’s father, Ethan grew wary, but it was the last part of the dismayed woman’s statement that caught his attention. “Rosalita, I’m hurt. I thought I was the only very bad man in your life,” he said, unable to resist the opportunity to goad his housekeeper the way she goaded him.
“Oh, no.” Rosalita shook her head. “Compared to him you’re a saint!”
If Rosalita was complimenting Ethan, something was very wrong. “What is it?” he asked the other woman. “What’s going on?”
“Your mail came too late yesterday, so I get it from the box this morning. I put everything on your desk like always, except this. Look!” She shoved his subscription copy of the News Journal magazine into his hand.
The News Journal covered the latest in business and important world news. And from the cover, a smug Martin Harrington, Faith’s father, smiled up at him.
“ ‘Anatomy of a Scam,’ ” Ethan read aloud. “Son of a bitch.” Just what Faith didn’t need, Ethan thought.
Rosalita nodded and crossed herself once more.
No wonder Faith had gotten a panicked phone call from her mother. He had to go pick up Tess, but he was worried about Faith. So was Rosalita, and after promising Rosalita he’d take care of the woman she considered like a daughter, Ethan left for his brother’s place across town.
While driving, he called Faith on her cell phone more than once, but he kept getting her voice mail. He finally gave up and left her a message asking her to call him as soon as possible.
Nash lived in a new condo development on the outskirts of town. Ethan pulled into a parking spot and discovered Dare’s police car already there.
Already tense, Ethan rang his brother’s doorbell and the door opened immediately, Tess greeting him on the other side. “Thank God, you’re here to rescue me!”
Relieved by her greeting when he didn’t know what the dynamic duo had in store for him, he grinned. “Hey, kid. Miss me?”
She rolled her eyes, her way of letting him know he was a dork. At least she wasn’t cursing at him, he thought.
“Want breakfast? There’s extra bagels,” she said, pulling him inside.
In the kitchen, Nash, Dare, and Tess had already shared a cozy breakfast, which had clearly deliberately excluded him.
Ethan drew a deep breath, forced the hurt down into a place he’d created years ago, and stepped into the room. “Morning,” Ethan said.
“Want a bagel?” Tess asked.
“No thanks.” Ethan set his jaw. “You ready?” he asked her.
“I just have to get my things.” She bounced out of the room.
“Seems like she had a good time,” he said, hoping like hell the kid moved fast. He didn’t want to be stuck here too long.
“She did.” Dare rose to his feet and, to Ethan’s surprise, reached out a hand for Ethan to shake. “So I hear you want to put her in private school.”
Ethan didn’t know his youngest brother well enough to gauge his feelings on the matter. He’d already gotten Nash’s grudging okay and wondered if that automatically meant Dare would feel the same way.
“I want her to have access to one of the best art teachers in the country. After that, we can discuss where she wants to enroll in school permanently.” Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets.
Dare nodded. “I think it’s a good idea. She’s obviously got an interest since she drags that sketch pad everywhere.”
“Did she show you her work?” Ethan asked.
“No. She’s pretty protective of that pad.” Dare laughed.
“How about you?” Ethan asked Nash, who until now remained silent. No big surprise there, since he clearly held more of a grudge than Dare.
“Nope,” Nash said. “Haven’t seen it.”
A unbrotherly-like feeling of relief settled in Ethan’s chest. As much as he wanted Tess to have a relationship with her other siblings, the fact that she trusted Ethan with her artwork and not them gave him a feeling of satisfaction he wasn’t proud of but couldn’t control.
It was because of the way Nash treated him, like he wasn’t worth the dirt beneath his shoe, that got to Ethan. He wasn’t that same selfish, mixed-up eighteen-year-old who’d abandoned his brothers, and though it had taken him too many years to grow up, he finally had. Ethan was finished apologizing for a past he couldn’t change. He could only control the future and he knew who and what mattered to him now.
“Well, when you do see Tess’s work, you’ll understand why I want her to have this opportunity,” Ethan said.
“She hasn’t warmed up to me that way yet,” Nash admitted.
No big shock there, Ethan thought. Though his middle brother had ended up with the better foster care arrangement, his attitude toward people and life was obviously darker.
Tess was a great judge of character.
“I take it you’ve seen the interview with Martin Harrington?” Nash asked, leaning back in his seat, taking pleasure in the question Ethan knew he’d inevitably ask.
“I thought we agreed not to bring that up this morning.” Dare glared at Nash, annoyance in his tone and tight body language.
Nash shrugged. “What can I tell you? I just look at him and all my anger comes back.” He rocked his chair forward and planted his feet back on the ground.
“Well, back off,” Dare said. “Tess is in the other room and—”
“Thanks, but I don’t need you fighting my battles,” Ethan told his youngest brother. “I know how he feels about me and about Faith.” Ethan gestured to Nash. “As soon as Tess is ready I’ll leave and you two can get back to your family breakfast.” Ethan hadn’t meant to show them that excluding him hurt, but the truth slipped out anyway.
Of both men, only Dare looked uncomfortable, confirming Ethan’s notion that maybe he had a shot of making peace with his youngest sibling.
“I’m ready!” Tess said, bounding back into the room, full of energy and oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. “I have to stop home and change before we go to the beach. And so do you,” she said, looking Ethan up and down, taking in his black jeans and T-shirt.
“Before we get near the beach, I got a call on the way over here. You and I have an interview at Birchwood today at eleven. We need to go home and change for that. Did Faith buy you something suitable?” he asked hopefully.
He reminded himself to find out how much Faith had spent so he could pay her back for Tess’s new wardrobe. When he finally heard from her, he thought, realizing his phone hadn’t yet rung.
“I guess there’s one dress,” Tess said, sounding pained at the thought. “Can we go to the beach afterward?”
Ethan nodded. “If it doesn’t rain. The sky was cloudy this morning.”
She frowned but nodded in understanding. At least there was something Ethan couldn’t be blamed for today.
Tess dressed up nicely, Ethan thought, unsure of whether or not to tell her and risk embarrassing her before their interview.
What the hell. “You look good,” he said, watching her come down the stairs in a feminine dress, light lavender and white, with a pair of silver sandals.
She blushed and ducked her head. “I look like a dork.”
“Do not.”
“I do too. And so do you, in that suit.”
He shook his head and laughed, but Tess didn’t join him. “What’s wrong?”
She hesitated.
“Come on, spill.”
Tess blew out a long breath of air. “Fine. Faith was supposed to fix my hair this weekend, but now—” She fingered the purple streak, her uncertainty showing through.
“I thought you liked purple,” he responded, deliberately playing dumb. He understood she didn’t want to show up at a private school meeting with the rebellious hair.
“You know what I mean.”
She picked at her nails and he smacked her hand. “Yeah, I do. But you know what? You look cool.” He held up a hand before she could reply. “I know, I know, nobody says ‘cool’ anymore. But there’s nothing wrong with showing your individuality.” Minus the attitude, the hair wasn’t as objectionable, but if she wanted to let Faith soften it, Ethan was all for it.
Assuming he could get in touch with Faith. So far she still wasn’t answering her phone or calling him back.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yep. I’m gonna kick some butt,” she said, back to her old self.
He grinned. “Good. Just watch the mouth when we get there and you’re all set.”
A half hour later, one of the female administrators took Tess for a tour around the school while Ethan met with the head director in his office.
Once they were seated, Dr. Spellman, a balding, sixty-something-year-old man got right to the point. “You’d like to enroll your sister in our school, specifically our art department?”
Ethan nodded. “She’s new in town, so wherever she starts school will be a transition for her.”
“It’s a new world for us here at Birchwood. Normally I’d have to turn you down and put your sister on a waiting list, but things have changed. Thanks to the recent economic downturn and some unsuccessful investment choices, we find ourselves in need of an influx of funds,” the other man said bluntly.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, seeing the other man as a businessman rather than an academic. “In other words, it’s about how much I’m willing to invest in your school?”
“In a word, yes. In addition, we’d like you to sit on the board. Your business acumen would also be an asset for us going forward.”
Ethan understood the compliment was more about his success than who he was, but that was the way of the world. If it got Tess in, he’d suffer through being on the board. “It’s tough economic times all around,” Ethan said.
“For some more than others. You see, our school invested funds with Martin Harrington, as did many of our largest benefactors.”
“I see,” Ethan said, not happy with the turn this conversation had taken.
The director picked up a letter opener and rubbed it between the palms of his hands. “Not only did we lose funding, but we lost students whose parents could no longer afford to enroll them in our school. As a result, we’ve had to cut many beloved teachers and programs that our school is known for. The only reason we are able to offer the visiting professor program you want to enroll your sister in is because of one very generous patron whose daughter loves art. But that doesn’t help the other lost programs, the fired teachers, or the students who have suffered greatly all because of Martin Harrington’s greed.”
“I understand the school has suffered,” Ethan said, treading carefully for myriad reasons.
Adam Spellman nodded his head. “Now this.” He pulled the News Journal magazine from the inbox on his desk. “Rubbing our noses in fresh wounds. A reminder is the last thing this school needs going into a new year.”
“I agree,” Ethan said. And a school board with an inherent bias against a Harrington was the last thing Ethan needed.
Not when he intended for Faith Harrington to be a part of both his and Tess’s life in every way possible—including attending any events at this school by his side or with his sister. But Ethan recognized the value of silence, and he would only be revealing information to Dr. Adam Spellman on an as-needed basis. Until Ethan had written a substantial check to this institution, nobody here needed to know his relationship to Faith Harrington. After all, money could buy acceptance of many things and people. Martin Harrington’s daughter included.
But how fair would it be for Ethan to ask Faith to deal with people who blatantly hated her father? And how difficult would it be for Tess and Faith to deal with the parents and kids, who’d lost programs and favorite teachers? Faith already had his brother Nash to contend with.
“Mr. Barron?”
Ethan snapped back to the present. “Sorry. Yes, I can assure you my donation will help the school get back on its feet. In return, I would appreciate it if you’d make my family feel welcome here.”
Adam Spellman rose to his feet, a smile on his face. “That is an easy promise to make. There’s just one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“This is a bit awkward, but we’re a conservative school. It would help if your sister . . . modified her look? The purple hair? The piercing?”
Ethan bit the inside of his cheek. No matter how he felt about Tess’s accessorizing, he disliked anyone else criticizing her. “My sister is entitled to a little individuality. But I will talk to her,” he said, knowing Tess already planned to change her hair. Maybe the piercing would follow. Maybe not. He could live with that, he realized, knowing how far she’d already come.
Spellman held out his hand and Ethan shook on the deal. “I’ll have a check in the mail by the end of business today.”
Wasn’t it ironic, Ethan thought. Ten years ago, he hadn’t been good enough for Faith Harrington. Hell, he still wasn’t. But in the eyes of the town, their situations were now reversed. Money truly could buy just about anything, including acceptance.
But would Faith allow herself, her acceptance, to be bought, no matter how good the reason?
Later that evening, after spending the day at work and avoiding any and all talk about Martin Harrington, a part of Faith wished she could continue the pattern and evade Ethan and the inevitable conversation about her father’s interview. She was used to dealing with her troubles alone, and burying herself under the covers for at least one night sounded good to her right now. But another part of Faith had gotten used to having Ethan Barron in her life and desperately wanted to feel his arms around her and let him chase away the demon that was her father.
So Faith found herself driving to Ethan’s and pulling her car up the long driveway. Funny, but she no longer thought of this as her old house. Sometime in the last few weeks, she’d not just accepted the change she’d had no control over but also had come to feel his living here just felt right.
Ethan greeted her on the front porch before she could even think of ringing the bell. He pulled her into his arms and settled his lips over hers.
His big hands clasped around her waist and he kissed her senseless, chasing away all the bad things in her life, just as she’d wanted.
“Thank you,” she said, tilting her head back and looking into his eyes.
“For what?”
“For being you. And for knowing exactly what I need.” She only hoped she gave back to him in equal measure. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back today. I knew you’d hear about the article anyway and I needed time to process that interview.”
“Understandable.” He slipped his hand into hers, led her into the house and straight to the kitchen. “And have you processed it?” he asked once they’d settled into the folding chairs.
“As much as I’m going to. I just feel so . . . betrayed.” She leaned her chin on her hands, trying to sum up her feelings, which were still raw. “It was bad enough when I found out who my father was and what he did. But despite all my denials, I wanted to believe he still loved me. That because I was his daughter, that meant something to him.”
She pulled in a ragged breath, the words she’d refused to let herself think or express, escaping at last. “In that way, I was no better than my mother, still in denial. I just put on a better face to the outside world. But this interview shattered every illusion I’d been holding on to—no matter how deep inside me. He told the world he’d used my marriage as a stepping-stone in his scam, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he implied that my ex-husband knew all about his dirty dealings. He destroyed any bit of reputation I’d held on to and most of my self-respect.”
Ethan rose and wrapped her in his arms, in his warmth. “You aren’t a reflection of your father or his actions.”
“What if I knew that Carter had more than an inkling of his dirty deals? I threatened to expose him if he didn’t give me a fair alimony settlement. What does that say about me?”
Ethan stroked the back of her hair. “It says you’re smart. But it doesn’t say you’re just like him.”
“How could my own father use me that way?” she asked, tears escaping despite her attempts to hold them back.
“He used everyone.”
Ethan held her in his arms, comforting her and letting her gather his strength until she pulled herself together.
“Enough about me.” Faith grabbed a napkin from the holder in the center of the table and wiped her eyes. “You said in your voice message that you had a meeting with the head of Birchwood. How did things go? Is Tess in, no problem?”
