Twenty seconds or so later, the front door code beeps.
“Who could that be?” Amanda asks.
Gerald walks in, stride steady, arms tight, face drawn in deep concern. Adrenaline shoots through me, spiking fast and hard, making me jump up and cross the room to him at the front door before I can think.
He's at my side, face impassive, which makes my gut clench. “We have an issue.”
“A problem? Is Suzanne okay?”
“No, no. This isn't about Suzanne. It's about your family.”
“My family?”
“I'm glad I'm on for Mort, because this is delicate.”
“Get to the point. What's the problem?”
Something in his mask ripples. “More of an issue.”
“Can it wait?”
He leans even closer and whispers, “A man claiming to be Amanda's father is at the gate.”
“He what?”
“Right. Looks like a nicer version of the guy in Nashua. He's wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt and tie. Jeans. Hair's cut short. Not sure it's him, but probably is. Is it a problem? I'll get rid of him.”
“No. Hold on. It's okay. That's Leo.”
“Leo?” Dad's outraged voice comes at me from behind. Gerald and I turn. “Pamela's Leo? Her ex-husband?”
“Yes.”
“What is he doing here? He's a felon! A murderer!”
Managing my father's emotional reaction on top of the surprise of Leo being here and the stress and joy of bringing the babies home is the last thing I need to deal with. Thankfully, Grace walks up and says to Dad, “James, can you help me with the baby?”
Dad can't resist his long-time executive assistant, and she knows it. Her gaze cuts to me as if to say, I can hold him off for a moment.
But not forever.
“I need to find Pam first,” I murmur to Gerald, who nods and moves into the living room. I just hope Pam isn't holding one of the twins. This is going to be hard enough.
Peeling a grandson out of her arms would be an added gut punch.
“He has no right to be here, Andrew,” Dad says to me, at my elbow again. Grace's cunning eyes take in the situation, sharpening at the word he.
“Who?” she asks Dad. Smart to defer to him.
“Pamela's ex. Amanda's father. A no-good deadbeat who killed a number of people in a drunk-driving accident years ago.”
Grace's eyebrows shoot up. “He's here?”
“I thought he was in prison,” Dad grouses, looking at me as if I've betrayed him by not keeping him apprised of Leo's whereabouts.
Just then, Pam appears, carrying Spritzy in a handbag, her face tight and closed off as if she’s in pain. “What's going on?”
Dad opens his mouth, ready to blast her with his outrage, when Grace puts her hand on his elbow and he stops. He lets out all the air in his lungs, slowly, like a pinhole has formed.
“Leo's here,” I say softly.
Pam flinches. “Here?” Her eyes blink rapidly. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Until a few minutes ago, when Amanda had me hide Leo's gift, it hasn't occurred to me that Amanda might not have told Pam about our meeting with Leo. I hadn't assumed either way, but apparently, on some level, I had.
I had taken for granted that Pam knew.
And now I have to be the bearer of bad, bad news.
“He's out of prison,” I begin.
“Obviously,” Dad blusters.
“He served his time,” I add tightly, ignoring him.
“James,” Grace says softly. “Why don't we give them some privacy?”
“We need to give Pam and Amanda protection, not privacy!”
“Gerald's here and can do that. It's why Andrew has him on staff. You made a good choice in hiring him years ago,” she says, massaging Dad's ego like a trainer for an Olympic athlete.
Pam's eyes flit to Dad, the bottom lids pulling up with an expression that says she doesn't appreciate his dominance, either.
“Let Leo in,” she says firmly, until she looks at her daughter and hesitates. “If you want, Mandy.”
“Mom, no. I don't want to upset you.”
Pam squares her shoulders. “This isn't about me.”
Dad can't help himself, interrupting. “It's most certainly not about that miscreant, Pamela! He has no right to–”
“You have no right to do this, James,” Pam says to my dad, challenging him with a forcefulness Declan would admire deeply.
I know I sure as hell do.
“Excuse me? I'm trying to protect everyone from him.”
“You're trying to assert your will over people who have wills of their own,” she flatly declares. She looks at Amanda. “Do you want Leo here?”
Uncertainty fills Amanda's face, but she closes her eyes, looks down, and says, “We saw him a few weeks ago.”
Time stops.
Just for a few seconds, but it's enough.
“You did.” Pam says it flatly, sadly. Her reaction to stressful news is the same as Amanda’s: A whoosh of air comes out of her. She’s clearly struggling to control her reaction.
“I did.”
“It's okay, Mandy. It's fine to see your father.” Her Revere accent comes out, blooming under pressure; the end of the word father is cut off, the r consumed by the past.
“I know it is, Mom.” Amanda looks up at Pam, eyes begging for forgiveness, understanding, empathy, compassion. “I had to. He reached out.”
“He did?”
“Yes. Finally.”
“FOR ANDREW'S MONEY!” Dad yells, as if we're all stupid and haven't pieced together some chain of facts he's pre-convinced himself is the truth.
“No,” I say back loudly. “He hasn't asked for a penny.”
“Not yet!”
“Not ever.” Pam's mouth goes firm, set in a grim line. “Leo's not like that.”
“How do you know, Pam?” Dad challenges.
“How did you know your late wife, James? I was with Leo for long enough to know the man. He may be a drunk, and a terrible father, and even an accidental killer, but he's not sniffing around our daughter so he can get money. He's here because he's trying.”
“You don't have to see him, Mom. And we can send him away.”
Gerald watches all of us with keen eyes, his quiet strength always a plus. Unlike in most situations, though, he speaks.
And speaks to Amanda.
“Amanda? It's your call. I can send him away. I can let him in.”
She nods, then looks at Pam. “He brought a present for the boys.”
“He did?” Her mouth softens. “What was it?”
“Red Sox hats and little onesies.”
All of the blood in Pam's face drains out, her hand drifting to the back of a chair for support. “Red Sox?” she whispers faintly.
“I know, Mom. I know!” Amanda starts to cry. “He wants to try to make it right.”
“He gave up that right long ago,” Dad blusters.
“Did you?” I challenge him.
A deadly silence fills the air, my gut twisted in agony but my heart standing firm.