I needed a bit of time before facing Opal.
Picking up my phone, I dialed a number I'd been reluctant to call.
“Deano?” The surprise in Lea’s voice was clear. I couldn’t blame her. I never called her.
“Do you think she’s to blame? For his death?” I asked. I’d been so certain and yet, now I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know anymore.
“No. I can tell you with absolute certainty that that woman had no play in our brother’s death.”
“He was better.”
“No, Deano, he wasn’t.” She sighed. “I know you still refuse to believe it, but our brother was sick, just as our mother was sick.”
“But she - “
“She ‘nothing,' Dean. Our brother had refused to accept he was bipolar. He'd refused any and all treatment I'd tried to get him to take. I’m not to blame. She’s not to blame. You’re not to blame.”
“I've never said I was,” I replied defensively.
She let out a humorless laugh. “You don't have to. It is plain as day, but I've known better than try to convince you otherwise. You’re so full of guilt, but maybe now you’re more receptive to hearing it.”
I sighed, looking at Timothy. What would happen if I stopped blaming her? Stop hating her?
Are you hating her now? the little voice in my head piped in.
“Speaking about Opal…”
“Uh-huh...” I'd started the conversation by calling; I couldn’t stop it now.
“We have the Beaumont hundred-year party in ten days. Is she allowed to come or is she to be locked in her tower like a dirty little secret?”
I rolled my eyes. Opal was my dirty little secret in so many ways. “Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that.” Her tone was teasing, but firm and I was not sure I wanted to hear her clinical assessment.
“She can come if she wants to, but I highly doubt she’ll want to.” I was having a taste of my own medicine and I didn’t like it.
“Dean, what did you do?”
I shook my head. We were coming up to the gates now. I didn’t have time for this. “What do you want from Opal?”
“Ask her to come with me for a spa day before the gala.”
I winced. I hated the idea of Opal spending some time with my sister, of telling my sister all the shameful things I'd done.
I sighed. Oh, what the hell. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t want to go. “You know what, I’ll give you her phone number. Do as you wish.”
“You are willingly giving me a way to contact her?”
I shrugged before realizing she could not see me. “Why not? You don’t want to?”
“Yes, I do! Tell her I’ll call her later.”
I gave Lea Opal's number just as we parked in front of the house. Mrs. James came down the stairs to meet us.
“I can take little Timothy back to his room if you wish, sir,” she said in her usual calm soothing tone, but I knew better. She was trying to help Opal avoid me.
Nice try.
I tightened my hold on the handle of the baby carrier and shook my head.
“No, thank you. I need to have a word with Ms. Collins”.
I took Timothy back upstairs, a bit nervous, hoping that she would be a little more receptive.
I walked into the nursery, set the seat on the floor, and knocked on the connecting door.
When she opened it, I noticed the laptop and schoolbooks opened all over her bed.
“Studying?” I asked, actually impressed at her attempt to better her life.
She nodded as she ducked under my arm to reach Timothy.
I turned around and watched her taking him out of his seat. She rocked him gently.
“Jeremy is bringing forward the surgery. He thinks we should do it in two months. I agreed.”
She nodded, brushing her lips against Timothy’s forehead. “Of course, yes. I understand.” She smiled sadly at him and I knew she was worried.
I took a step toward her. “Jeremy Hunt is the best there is, Opal,” I said, trying to reassure her. “I would never put the life of my nephew, my heir, in any hands other than the best.”
She finally met my eyes and the gratefulness there took my breath away. “I know that. Thank you, Mr. Beaumont, truly.”
Now she was making me uncomfortable. This was not necessary. This was the least I could do. She didn’t have to feel grateful.
“Lea also wants to talk to you about something. I took the liberty of giving her your number.”
“Okay.” She walked to the fridge, her high ponytail moving with each movement. “I like Lea. She’s nice,” as she prepared Timothy a bottle.
“Ah, there is a Beaumont you like.”
“I liked Edward too,” she replied softly. I received the message loud and clear. She was not a fan of me.
“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Have a good day, Opal.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Beaumont...and thank you for telling me about Timmy’s condition. I appreciate it.”
I stopped at the door. Turning around, I watched her feed Timothy, her back at me.
This scene did something to me, to my stomach, my soul, my heart. A peaceful warmth settled in me that I didn't want to analyze or understand because I knew that one way or another, regardless of whether I won this bet or not, she’d leave, and then what?
Can you actually win anymore, Dean Beaumont? It started to feel like any outcome that involved her leaving would be a loss.
I looked at my calendar on the wall. I couldn’t believe I only had six weeks left here with Timmy and that we would be able to go back to Philly soon. A part of me would miss this place and the angry man living in it.
Rejecting him and forcing a distance had been harder than I'd thought, but every time I thought about forgiving him, I remembered how he'd treated me, how all those men had treated Opal. I would not let him do the same to me.
I looked out of the window of my room and noticed all the vans and people rushing around to prepare for the gala happening here tonight. It felt so foreign to me, being here for a gala and watching everyone running around as they rushed to make the old ballroom into a reception hall. I'd spied on them yesterday as they'd started to set up. It had looked so majestic already. I couldn’t comprehend how a party could take two days to set up, but Mrs. James had told me that that was not rare at all.
I looked at my phone before getting dressed in leggings and a tee-shirt.
Lea had called me, asking if I wanted to spend a girl day out with her before attending the gala. I liked her. I wanted Timmy to have a link to Eddy's family and I doubted that that connection would be made through Dean's cold, dead heart.
Despite having accepted Lea’s offer, I'd been reconsidering it for the past week. What did I have in common with this highly intelligent, overly qualified rich woman? I was going to feel so inadequate with my high school degree and wallet full of food stamps.
I sighed, shaking my head. And what about tonight’s fancy party? I turned to look at the little black dress I’d worn at the dinner party a couple of months ago. That was my dress for tonight and after the dinner party fiasco… I didn’t belong here. Why on earth had I said yes?