talking about. He knew his old friend was waiting for him to say something, but he opted for silence. Sarabess raised an eyebrow in question. Instead, he reached for the cup of coffee the old housekeeper poured for him. He sipped appreciatively.
Sarabess set her own cup on the table. “I want you to hire someone to find her. It’s time. And it’s also time to do something about Mitzi. I…I want her taken care of once and for all. Do we understand each other, Rifkin?”
Rifkin. Using his full name meant Sarabess was serious.
Rifkin watched as a tiny brown bird flew into one of the ferns. He knew the little bird was preparing her nest. “Let it be, Sarabess. You need to stop obsessing about…about Mitzi. There’s nothing I can do legally, and we both know it.”
Sarabess leaned forward. “How can you say that to me?”
“I can say it because I’m your friend. Mitzi aside, you should have called me fifteen years ago to ask me to find her. I warned you this would happen. Now, it’s too late.”
Sarabess stood up. “It’s never too late. You hounded me daily for years to do what I’m asking you to do now, and suddenly you’re telling me it’s too late! I don’t believe that. If you won’t do it, I’ll find someone who will. Mitzi may have me on a short leash financially, but I am not without influence in this town. As you well know, Rifkin.”
Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. “You waited fifteen years too long. If you think for one minute that that girl is going to forgive you, you are wrong.” Rif brought the coffee cup to his lips. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything so bitter.
“She’s my daughter. I’m her mother.”
Rif sighed and closed his eyes. His voice was so low Sarabess had to strain to hear it. “You gave birth to her. You were never her mother. You were Emily’s mother. As your attorney, I’m advising you to let matters rest. As your friend and lover, I’m asking you to let matters rest. Please, Sarabess, listen to me.”
“I have no intention of following your advice, Rifkin. It’s time.”
“For you, perhaps. Not for Trinity. If she wanted to see you, she knows where you are. She could have come home anytime. The fact that she hasn’t called or written in fifteen years means she doesn’t have any interest in seeing you.”
“She doesn’t even know Harold died. She should know that,” Sarabess said coldly. “Mitzi knows. If you could just get inside that…that squirrelly head of hers, we could find Trinity in a heartbeat.”
“Now, almost fifteen years after the fact, you think Trinity should know her father died! I can’t believe I’m hearing what I’m hearing. I advise you to think seriously about what you are contemplating, Sarabess. You gave birth to Trinity so you could use her bone marrow so that Emily would live. Then you gave that child to your foreman and his wife to raise. You hauled her up here one day a year on Princess Emily’s birthday. You had the Hendersons dress her up like a poor relation; then you sent her away after the party. Not to mention the humiliation of those countless other command performances—whenever Emily pitched a fit. You’re delusional if you think Trinity will want to see you.”
“I had no other choice. Emily would have died. Because of…of that…procedure, I had thirteen more years with my darling daughter. Thirteen years! I wouldn’t trade those thirteen years for anything in the world. When…When I explain things to Trinity, I’m sure she will understand. She is my daughter, after all. She has only one mother. We all have only one mother.” Despite Sarabess’s efforts, her voice was colder than chipped ice, her eyes colder still.
Is he buying into my explanation? At first blush, it doesn’t seem like it. Well, that will have to change quickly.
“I don’t care how much it hurts, Sarabess, but you were never that girl’s mother. You didn’t sit with her at night when she was sick. You didn’t take her to church, you never took her shopping. You never once looked at her report card, never went to a school meeting. You never read her a bedtime story or tucked her into bed. Half the time you couldn’t remember what her name was. Emily didn’t like her, either, thanks to you. Guilt is what took Harold to an early grave, and we both know it. I guess you’re just a lot tougher.
“Trinity has never touched the trust fund your husband, her father, set up for her. I believe that Harold told her about it when she was quite young. I cannot even begin to imagine what that young girl thought at the time if, indeed, he did tell her. Maybe the knowledge of that monstrous trust fund was what made her run away. At least that’s Mitzi’s theory. If so, apparently Trinity didn’t want any part of it, you, or Harold. Let it be.”
Sarabess fingered the pearls at her neck. She felt choked up at her lover’s words. “When did you get so ugly, Rifkin Forrest?”
“Ten minutes ago, when I saw what you were about this morning. Today of all days. Why didn’t you make the decision a week ago, a month ago, yesterday? Today is the anniversary of Emily’s death. In seven months Trinity will be thirty and will come into the trust,” Rif said, his voice sounding ominous.
Sarabess didn’t think Rif’s voice could get any colder, but it did. She actually shivered in the humid June air.
“You went in that room, you looked at the pictures, you relived the thirteen years that Trinity gave your daughter. You probably cried, and then you decided maybe this was a good time to find your other daughter. The thought probably crossed your mind that you might have grandchildren somewhere. That’s the part I want to believe.
“The other part, having to do with the trust fund that will revert to you if Trinity dies or isn’t found in time to take possession of her trust, is not something I want to think about today. I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I have a tee time in thirty minutes.”
Sarabess was speechless. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes, I’m leaving. I don’t want any part of upsetting that young woman’s life for your own selfish desires.”
Sarabess started to cry. “Please, Rif, don’t leave. I…I’m not doing this for me. You may be right—it may be too late—but I won’t know if I don’t try. I just want to find her. I won’t invade her life if it looks like I…if…she isn’t interested. I thought that Jake,” she said, referring to Rif’s son and law partner, “might do the search. He used to play with Trinity when they were little children. Emily used to watch them from the sunroom. She was so envious.”
A linen handkerchief found its way to her eyes. It all sounded good to her ears. It should—she’d rehearsed this little speech for hours in front of the mirror.
Rifkin sighed wearily. “It always comes back to Emily, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it always comes back to Emily. You can’t expect me to turn thirty years off and on like you’d turn off a light switch. I made a mistake. I want to try and make it right.” That sounds good, too, Sarabess thought smugly.
“Jesus, Sarabess, you didn’t just make a mistake, you made the Queen Mother of all mistakes. Now you want the child you threw away back. I’m sorry, it just doesn’t work that way. On top of that, it’s too late.”
“Stop saying that. I didn’t throw Trinity away. I…What I did was pay the Hendersons to take care of her. I couldn’t do it. I was fighting for Emily’s life. Trinity had a roof over her head, good food, adequate medical
