“I tried to get her back to sleep, but . . .” Jordan’s voice was as fragile as her smile was brittle.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where’s my mom?”
“In the kitchen making coffee.”
Jordan padded away, and Gretchen heard her and Mary’s soft voices gently coaxing Phoebe to go back to sleep. In all her life, she’d never heard that kind of tenderness in her own family. Her own mother was too worried about getting something on her clothes to rock her grandkids. She’d never once seen her mother in a robe, fussing over a tray of warm cookies.
Gretchen spied her purse on the table by the front door. She had no shoes, but she wouldn’t need them. Not where she was going.
She grabbed her purse and Colton’s keys from where he’d left them.
And walked out the front door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
This time, she knew exactly where she was going.
Down that dark country road.
On the horizon, a pink sunrise peeked above the tree line, turning gold fields lavender. Mist hovered above the ground, ghostly and haunting.
She passed the dark tasting room, its parking lot empty. She passed the road to the tree house, past the entrance to Evan’s house. And when she finally came to the main house still ablaze with lights, she was unsurprised to find that once again, she was the only one not here. Evan’s car was there. Jack’s car was there. Blake’s car was there. Another family meeting without her.
The sound of raised voices greeted her when she walked into the residence, but they quickly quieted at the approaching thud of her footsteps. Her father thundered out of his office, ready to chew out whichever lowly servant so rudely interrupted them. He still looked as fresh as ever, his tuxedo showing no signs of crease or wrinkle. Even his bow tie was still tightly knotted beneath his chin. It was as if nothing had happened.
He stopped short when he saw her, eyes growing wide before he reeled in his reaction. “Gretchen,” he said, loudly enough to be sure everyone else heard him. He then looked her up and down. “Good Lord, what are you wearing? Where are your shoes?”
“Where’s Evan?”
Jack walked into the vestibule. He also still wore his tuxedo, but his looked like he’d just come back from a hard hike. His pants were dirty, his shirt wrinkled and untucked. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles as if he hadn’t slept in days, even though she’d only left him five hours ago. He hurried toward her. “How’s Colton?”
“Great. He’s probably being fingerprinted as we speak. I’m sure it’s a very enjoyable experience.”
“We’ll get this worked out,” Jack said. “I promise.”
“Forgive me if I don’t have a lot of faith in any promises from this family.”
She stormed past both men, yanking her arm out of Jack’s reach when he tried to stop her. She found Evan kicked back on the wide leather sofa in the den, feet resting on the ottoman. He, too, still wore last night’s clothes. Blood dotted his shirt, his bow tie long gone. Above his eye, a butterfly bandage held together the broken skin where Colton’s fist had split it open. Purple bruising darkened his eye socket, and in his hand, an empty whiskey glass tipped precariously toward his wife’s lap. Anna silently clutched an ice pack, her evening gown wet where it had leaked.
Blake and his wife hovered nervously behind the couch.
Evan eyed Gretchen coolly. “Nice outfit. Did you get mugged or something?”
“Where’s Mom?”
“She took a Valium and passed out an hour ago.”
Of course. Because why should her mother have to deal with this? Why should she have to feel anything?
“I need to talk to you alone,” Gretchen finally said.
Jack and Frasier had followed her in. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Frasier said now.
“It’s amazing how little I care about what you think right now.”
“For God’s sake, Gretchen, grow up,” he snapped back. “This is no time for dramatics.”
Dramatics.
Hysterics.
Radical tendencies.
The insults that had once so sharply sliced through her now so easily bounced off her. It was hard to hurt someone who’d gone numb. Impossible to pierce skin that had thickened into hard scar tissue. “I need to speak to Evan alone,” she repeated.
Evan sighed melodramatically and nodded to the door. “It’s fine. I’m sure this won’t take long.”
“Gretchen, are you sure?” Jack asked quietly.