together. She’d be damned if she were going to care one iota for that man. Her Aunt Caroline was dead and it was all Charlie’s fault.
“There’s nothing I can do for him. I’m sure he’s in the best of hands,” she said, nearly choking on the toxic mixture of grief and regret clogging her throat. She fastened her gaze on the folder lying on her desk in an attempt to keep from collapsing in on herself. “I appreciate your call, Officer Barrett. I’ll take care of the necessary arrangements,” she said, her voice sounding as if it were coming from someone else, someone who hadn’t just lost the one person who had truly loved her. “I have to go now,” she said, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand when she realized her tissue box was empty.
“Wait!” he exclaimed, catching her before she hung up the phone.
“What?”
“I know your father had a bit of a drinking problem,” he said, trying for tact but he needn’t have bothered.
“No, actually, he didn’t have any problems drinking. If it’d been an Olympic sport he would’ve won a gold medal,” she retorted bitterly. “My father was a drunk who took advantage of his family and never took responsibility for his actions. I’m sure last night was just the inevitable conclusion of his recklessness.” Her breath caught in her chest and she forced herself to continue. “Unfortunately, it was my Aunt Caroline who paid the price.”
“Well, we don’t know for sure if he was drinking and I’m not about to make that assumption,” he said. “We’ll know when the blood alcohol content comes back from the lab.”
Erin shrugged. She didn’t need a piece of paper to tell her what she already knew. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll call you when I get the results,” he said.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say don’t bother but she was quickly losing her fire. All she wanted to do was cradle her head in her arms and cry. “Fine,” she finally answered. “I’m usually here until nine p.m. After that, you’re out of luck.”
The officer paused and Erin could almost feel his censure at her cold attitude toward her sole surviving kin. She knew how she must look to someone who didn’t know their history, but she’d long since stopped trying to defend herself to total strangers. It was easier to let them assume what they pleased. No doubt, the officer judging her on the other end of the line was no exception.
“I’ll try to get back to you before then…in case you change your mind and want to book a flight home,” he said.
The flesh on her arms suddenly puckered and popped as a chill raced down her spine. Granite Hills, Michigan, hadn’t been her home for a long time. San Francisco was her home now. “That’s not necessary,” she said, rubbing the skin on her arms. There was no way she was going back there. Especially not now. “I’m sorry, it’s just not—” Possible. If she went back to Granite Hills the memories would destroy what little hold she had on her sanity. “I have deadlines.”
“Right. I understand,” he said, but his tone told her he didn’t understand at all. He probably had two loving parents who hadn’t left him to fend for himself at the age of six so they could drink themselves into a blind stupor. And most certainly, probably hadn’t beaten him so badly that he’d lost consciousness. Bitterness flooded her mouth along with the bad memories, but she held her tongue. No. He probably didn’t understand at all. “Is there anything else?”
“No, I suppose not,” he answered slowly, seeming reluctant to let her go, as if he could sense she was holding it together by a thread. Erin swallowed, wishing for a fleeting moment someone, perhaps even Officer Barrett, was here with her. She remained quiet, not quite trusting her voice any longer. The silence stretched and Erin was grateful when, after offering his condolences, he said goodbye.
Another memory popped into her mind, unwelcome and very recent.
“Please come home for Christmas, love. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you,” Caroline had pleaded, pulling at Erin’s conscience. “I’ll make all your favorite dishes…candied yams, mincemeat pie, fresh cranberry sauce…you name it. The sky’s the limit, if you’ll just come home, at least for a visit.”
Caroline’s insistence had coaxed a small smile, but Erin had shaken her head as she rolled a pencil back and forth on the surface of her desk. “I can’t, I’m shooting a holiday spread for the magazine. I’ll be booked before and after Christmas.”
That much had been true but Erin could have scheduled a few days in Granite Hills if she’d wanted to. Even Harvey Wallace had family. He would have granted her at least a weekend.
“Are you going to invite Charlie?” she asked after Caroline refused to let the subject go even after she’d politely declined the offer. There was a telltale pause on the other end. “Well?” Erin prompted, yet already knowing the answer. “Because you know if he shows up, I leave, and frankly, that’s a waste of airfare.”
Caroline let out a sigh. “Erin Mallory, why must you be so hard-headed? He’s your father for goodness sakes! And he deserves a second chance. He’s changed, really he has, and if you’d talk to him you’d see that,” she said, her tone openly disappointed. When Erin remained stubbornly quiet, Caroline changed tactics. “Erin, I know things were bad, Lord, how I know, but people change. Why won’t you give him a chance to show you he’s not the man you remember.”
Because men like Charlie didn’t deserve second chances. Men like Charlie were the human equivalent of a black cloud of doom hanging over a person’s head. He destroyed everything he touched. He was probably the reason Erin’s mother killed herself before Erin was even out of diapers. Of course, she didn’t know that for certain because Caroline refused to talk about it but Erin wasn’t stupid or blind. It hadn’t taken long for her to piece together that pathetic puzzle.
Erin had ended the conversation with an empty promise to call again but they’d both known she probably wouldn’t. As it turned out, Erin had spent Christmas Day in the same place she’d spent it last year—in her apartment alone. She didn’t even have a cat, unlike her Aunt Caroline, who thought it was unnatural to live without the company of a good animal or two.
Staring at the far wall, half-lost in memories, she sniffed back the tears that seemed to flow no matter how hard she tried to hold them back and bit her lip to keep from wailing. Why did bad things happen to good people? How could fate be so cruel a second time around? Hadn’t her family suffered enough? She closed her eyes but the action was useless. The dialogue in her head continued to rant with the single-minded purpose of a spoiled child. It just wasn’t fair.
Caroline was all she had. No mother, no father to speak of…no other family. She was alone. Cradling her head in her arms she sobbed until the tears had soaked the silky softness of her cashmere turtleneck. Finally, the sobs racking her body slowed to a trickle and she lifted her head with a watery hiccup. Arrangements…she had to make arrangements. What did that entail?
She dragged a fresh notebook from her desk and attempted to start a list, though her fingers felt stiff and useless. Where did she start? It was damn near overwhelming. Caroline had mentioned something about a living trust during one of their conversations, but truthfully, Erin hadn’t been interested in pursuing the details. Somehow it had seemed morbid talking about arrangements for the estate when her aunt was still alive.
“Oh, God.” Her eyes widened in alarm as she remembered Butterscotch, Caroline’s dog of thirteen years, midway through her list. “What am I going to do with
