“This is Gretchen.”
“Gretchen, hi. This is Joel Rico. Sorry it took me a week to look into your situation properly but I have your answer. Every one of those deposits comes from the same place…”
Of all the wild ideas that have been running through my head in the weeks since I looked at those bank statements, the explanation Joel gives is not one I had ever thought of.
NEVER.
I hear my own dazed voice thanking Joel for his efforts.
Then I sit there and stare at the minivan’s reflection in the glass doors of the convenience store.
I feel an abrupt, desperate longing for Trent. For his arms around me. For his deep voice to murmur in my ear that this isn’t the end of the world and we’ll figure out this mess together.
But I can’t take comfort from Trent right now. I can hardly breathe.
Ever since Jules died, I’ve been thinking of the twins’ father as some distant, detached entity who may or may not be living and definitely isn’t within reach.
It turns out that isn’t true.
No, he’s been right here all along.
My anger overtakes all avenues of rational thought.
He needs to answer for this. And I’m going to make the bastard answer for this. Right fucking now.
Before I can give the matter more thought, I back up and roll right out of the parking lot. This is a weekday just after ten in the morning. Anyone who keeps regular office hours is likely in the office right now. Including him.
Rosebriar Hill appears ghostly in the light cloak of fog that rolled off the lake this morning. I look at the hill and imagine it as an ally as I close in, although I’m not planning to drive up there today. My destination is just ahead.
Cassini Brewery is a place I’ve passed countless times but never visited. The exterior has received a makeover since I was a kid, although the expense seems to have been misplaced. I know the company’s fortunes are flailing due to mismanagement.
The red Porsche that I last saw sitting Trent’s driveway is prominently parked by the brewery entrance. The spot is marked by a silver and black sign with the owner’s name, just so everyone who arrives will understand that this is his spot. I glare at the red car like it’s somehow also at fault and march through the double doors.
Three men in black polos embroidered with the brewery’s logo stop what they are doing and gape at me. They stand in front of the mammoth horseshoe-shaped bar and two of them carry clipboards.
I don’t feel like wasting time with niceties. “I need to see Liam Cassini,” I announce loudly, the sound of my voice echoing off the high ceiling.
The tallest of the three men shoots the other two a knowing glance, like they’re entertained by the intrusion of an angry woman demanding an audience with their boss. Perhaps this is something that happens often. I wouldn’t be surprised.
The tall man clears his throat. “I think he’s in a meeting.”
“Nope, he’s just in the shitter,” pipes up one of his companions, sounding pleased. I would guess he’s not a happy employee. “His office is just up the stairs. Make a left. Second door.”
I can feel them staring at me as I climb the wide staircase. One of them laughs. Ordinarily, I would turn around and give them hell for the disrespect but this is not an ordinary errand.
Liam Cassini’s office is impressive, with pricy furniture, stunning views and a weird painting of a beautiful woman lying on an animal skin. She has to be Liam’s wife. I wonder if she’s oblivious to what kind of scoundrel she’s married to.
I stiffen at the sound of whistling at my back and turn around to see Liam Cassini in the midst of wiping his hands on his tailored black trousers. He stops whistling when he sees me and for a quick second irritation flashes in his eyes before vanishing.
“Good morning,” he says smoothly and sits down at his desk as if we are both here for a scheduled meeting.
He motions for me to take one of the two leather chairs meant for visitors. I’d rather stand, but my knees feel slightly weak so I drop into the nearest seat.
Liam’s chair creaks as he leans back and he spends too many uncomfortable seconds looking me over. His resemblance to Trent is obvious but it’s not overpowering. Liam isn’t as good looking or as tall or as muscled as his younger brother. And there’s a rigid coldness on his face that might be exaggerated in my mind simply because I know what kind of man he is. Yet sitting directly across from him makes my skin crawl.
I think I might be making a mistake.
At the very least, I wish I’d discussed this confrontation with Trent first before barreling in here. But Trent would never have let me come alone.
“It’s Gretchen, right?” He continues to sweep his eyes over my body instead of looking me in the eye.
I’m careful not to flinch. “Gretchen Aaronson. I don’t really see the point in beating around the bush, Liam. I’m here with questions about what kind of relationship you had with my sister.”
Liam isn’t surprised, or if he is then he hides it well. “Julianne was a lovely young woman. I’m extremely sorry for your loss.”
He doesn’t sound even slightly sorry. He sounds bored, and perhaps a little smug.
“Was she employed by you?” I ask.
“Of course not. But you could have called to ask that question.” He grins. “Not that I’m finding fault with having something pretty to look at.”
“If she didn’t work for you then why have you been consistently transferring money to her bank account?”
Far from being flustered, he seems amused by where this is headed. He drums his fingers on his desk and gives me half a smile.
“There were six wire transfers last year,” I explain, as if he didn’t know. “Two thousand dollars each time, every other month on the first of the month.”
“Yes.” He nods. “And the year before that. And the year before that. And the year before that.”
My heart sinks. My suspicions were justified.
No, I definitely shouldn’t have confronted him alone.
Liam Cassini holds all the cards and he knows it.
But now that this moment has arrived the words need to be said. “You’re the twins’ father.”
He shrugs with indifference. “So I was told.”
Every nerve ending in my body bristles. “If that’s what you were told then it’s true. Jules wouldn’t have lied. Anyway, you know damn well it’s true. You wouldn’t have parted with a dime out of the goodness of your heart, although no one could accuse you of being supremely generous considering what you could have afforded to give them.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Ah, so that’s why you’re here. To demand additional funds. How very Aaronson-like of you to expect handouts.”
“Handouts? Mara and Caitlin are your daughters! They’ve been growing up here right under your nose and you’ve never shown the slightest interest in them. Why?”
His eyes narrow. “Julianne made the decision to keep them. I was not involved.”
I glare at this disgusting man who fathered two beautiful children with my sister. “Clearly you were involved at some point.”
“Yes, clearly, but there was never a relationship. We fucked one night and that’s all.”