any problem, but this…” He shook his head. “We should hire a P.I.”
“No. I’d like this handled as discreetly as possible. Losing my dad is painful enough. I don’t want our search for our son to become a public spectacle. And for the record, you don’t have to take your anger out on me. I’m just as much a victim as you. Daddy may have meant well, but that doesn’t excuse him for committing a horrible wrong.”
“True,” he conceded. “But I’m not the one in my twenties, still calling a conniving old man Daddy. He committed a crime—against both of us. It doesn’t matter whether he meant well or not. Had the man survived, I’d have had him charged with kidnapping.”
“Please, Garrett,” Eve quipped, “don’t hold back. Let me know how you really feel.”
* * *
“GEEZ, MOM.” GARRETT SAT at the kitchen table and shoveled leftover turkey and gravy into his mouth. “I get that Eve loved Hal, but she seems to accept what her father did. Like she’s resigned to the fact that what’s done is done and there’s nothing she can do about it.”
Nursing her coffee, his mom asked, “You think she’s wrong? That it will somehow serve her to hate the father she’s only just lost?”
“What’s the matter with you?” Eyes narrowed, Garrett dropped his fork to his plate. “Buying in to the whole Barnesworth small-town royalty facade?”
“Only because you’re understandably on edge, I’m going to let that slide. I know next to nothing about Hal, but as your grandmother already told you, Eve’s mother was an amazing woman. She did wonderful things for every charitable organization in town—nearly the whole state. All I’m saying is that I admire Eve for keeping her cool. In less than twenty-four hours, she’s lost her father, gained a son and become the head of a miniempire that employs half this town.”
Garrett helped himself to cranberry salad. “Thought old Hal was mayor.”
“He was, but he also owned the canning and shoe factories, as well as at least a dozen other businesses all over Florida. Last I heard he has contracts with several big-name New York designers who want their brands made in the U.S.A.”
Snorting, he said, “That supposed to make me feel better? That the lying old coot was at least patriotic? This is your grandson. Why aren’t you more upset?”
“I am, but it’s complicated.” She rubbed the back of her neck before leaving him to refill her coffee. “When you told me and your dad Eve was pregnant, we were both so afraid for you. Had you two married, the odds against you would’ve been nearly insurmountable. Who knows? In a way, though it was unspeakably cruel, maybe Hal did do you two a favor. Can you honestly say you’d have made it through BUD/S with a newborn and wife?”
* * *
ON THE MORNING OF EVE’S father’s funeral, the same church she’d been married in was now packed to standing room only. More people who’d come to show their respects lined the street outside. The same organist who’d played for the last Florida gubernatorial invocation hammered away on old Southern hymns. Considering her father had made all of his own plans, she’d have thought he’d hire a New Orleans jazz band. But then as much as he’d enjoyed a party, that would’ve been too much of a spectacle. He’d also enjoyed the nice, solemn ceremonies of life, so why wouldn’t he also enjoy them in death?
As much as Eve longed to give in to the ball of emotions souring her stomach, she stayed strong as she knew her father would’ve wanted. Contrary to what Garrett believed, she refused to think her dad deliberately set out to hurt either of them.
The scents of roses, lilies, carnations and a dizzying assortment of other arranged flowers made her head pound and eyes water to such a degree she could hardly see the words on the hymnal’s pages. It was only her allergies making her a wreck. No matter what, she refused to give in to her grief in this too public arena.
At the service’s end, the funeral director whisked her into a white limo for the short trek to the cemetery where her father had wanted to be buried next to her mother in the family tomb.
Eyes stinging and throat hurting, she remembered sitting in the same spot over a decade earlier, only at least she’d had her father’s hand to hold. Now she sat alone.
Though the day was sunny, a brisk, cold wind whipped the open tent sheltering the mourners. Tuning out the pastor’s words, her mind’s eye saw her father speaking what she now knew had been his last words.
I lied. Your son’s alive. I took him.
She didn’t want her thoughts to go there. Instead, she wanted to remember happy times. The two of them traveling to Europe together. Sharing morning tea in the solarium. She refused to think of him shrunken and sallow in his final days. He was the most powerful man she’d ever known and she’d been so proud to be his daughter. But now…
I lied.
Now a seed of doubt had been planted as to whether or not her father’s motives had been pure.
Above all in life, evident by a funeral larger than any the town had ever seen, Hal Barnesworth valued his standing in the community. His reputation and pride. Had she returned home with a baby, his efforts to spirit her away to deliver her son far from his beloved town would’ve been for naught. Everyone would’ve known what an awful parent he’d been. After all, who didn’t keep close enough watch on their teenage daughter and allowed her to end up pregnant?
He’d been ashamed of her and her actions and hid her away as surely as he would’ve a poor business decision.
Horrified by the emerging picture of who her father really was, she brought trembling hands to her mouth. When it came to his negative opinion of Hal, Garrett had been right. Was he here? Watching her? Thinking her a fool?
A gust of wind toppled the portrait of her father that he’d wanted displayed on a stand beside his casket. Though the funeral director leaped to action, promptly setting it back in place, Eve found the incident apropos. A symbol of how her mighty father had fallen—at least in her eyes.
Garrett, are you out there? Somewhere in the crowd?
Did she want him to be?
Thankfully, the service soon ended and Eve went through the motions of placing a white rose the pastor handed her atop her father’s casket, then thanking the crush of well-wishers for coming.
A Palm Beach caterer was setting up an invitation-only reception at the house, but all she wanted was to escape.
Voice hoarse from the sheer number of people she’d spoken with, she was unprepared when a stocky man approached, flashing her a Miami Herald press badge. “Eve Barnesworth?”
“Y-yes.”
“I wonder if you might confirm a story I’ve got a lead on.”
“Excuse me?”
“My source says your father employed a number of illegal immigrants, but bribed local officials to look the other way. Care to comment?”
Knees rubbery, Eve searched for something to steady her, but found only air. How could this day get worse? How insensitive was he to bring up such a hot-button topic here?
“Ma’am,
