Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [62]
“Of course he told her. Nicely and kindly. She went ballistic. We knew that would happen. I’m sure she’s calmed down by now. In the end we had to think about all the other families who work for us in the other divisions.”
“I’m sure she understands. She is, after all, a businesswoman.”
“A seventy-four-year-old businesswoman. Her judgments are no longer sound. She lets her heart rule her head. That’s not such a bad thing, but when it starts to affect the rest of the companies, then it’s time to make hard decisions. It’s a done deal, so there’s no turning back. Is this the entrance?”
“Yes. Drive down to the second building, turn right, and it’s building 4022. The apartment is on the first floor—401. Do you want me to wait in the car?”
“Absolutely not. I’m just sorry you’re going to get wet.”
“Not to worry. I’ll tie my hair up in a knot. Okay, let’s make a run for it!” Holding hands, they sprinted from the car, slopping through puddles till they came to an overhang, where they checked the arrows with the printed apartment numbers. “This is it,” Josie said, pointing to the apartment door to the left. Ring the bell, Paul.”
Paul licked at his lips and rang the bell. A dog barked inside. The speckled dog in the picture.
She is pretty just like her mother, Paul thought. “Nancy, I’m your uncle Paul Brouillette. This is Josie Dupré. Can we come inside? I’d like to talk to you. I can show you identification if you like.” The young woman nodded. Paul opened his wallet and fished out his driver’s license. She stared at it intently for a minute or so before she removed the chain from the door.
“Come in.”
She’s baking cookies, Josie thought. Probably for the little boy who was building a castle with colored blocks in the middle of the living room floor. The speckled dog hovered protectively.
“Let me wash the flour off my hands. Please, sit down. Would you like some coffee or maybe a soft drink?”
“We’re fine,” Paul said, his eyes on the dark-haired little boy. He had pictures of himself at the same age. He looks just the way I did back then, Paul thought.
She’s so young, Josie thought. And yet her weary eyes say she’s seen more of the world than she wanted to see.
“What do you want? My father isn’t here,” the young woman said bluntly.
“I know he isn’t here. That’s why I waited until today to come here. I’ve had a private detective looking for you. I came to take you home if you want to come with us. My mother—your grandmother—has never gotten over your mother’s death. She would love for you to come home with your son. I would like to see you home with the family. How do you feel about that?”
“I guess I’m surprised,” the young woman said quietly. “You didn’t want us before. Why now?”
“Who told you a thing like that?” Paul demanded.
“My . . . my father. He said you all considered us baggage. He said we weren’t wanted.”
“No. No, no, that’s all wrong. The day your mother was buried, your father packed up, took all her money, her jewelry, and you, and left. My mother tried for years to find you. She finally gave up. I didn’t. We finally were able to locate you through the boy’s birth certificate. Will you please come with us?”
“My father . . . Are you telling me the truth?”
“He’s telling you the truth,” Josie said quietly.
“I need to talk to my son.”
Josie and Paul watched as Nancy walked over to her son and tapped him on the shoulder before she dropped down to eye level. Her fingers flew. The boy turned to look at them and smiled before he too used his fingers to communicate. They were signing. Josie heard Paul suck in his breath.
“Can’t he hear?”
“Very little. He needs an operation and will have to wear hearing aids. We only have an HMO, and they don’t want to pay for it. There just isn’t any money left over for . . .”
“What about your father?” Paul said through clenched teeth.
“My father gambles and drinks a lot. For the most part, I have to support him, too. I have