My heart sinks for the girl.
The door creaks open. “Gramma! Gramps! I’m home—” Violet freezes in the foyer, her face paling as she sees Henry seated next to Howard on the three-seater couch.
Did she sleep last night? The dark bags lining her eyes suggest not. Did she even go to this Alison girl’s house? I doubt it, but then where did she stay all night?
“Hello, Violet,” Henry says in a calm voice and stands.
She stumbles back a step. “What are you doing here?”
“We have some things to discuss.”
She shakes off her backpack, letting it fall to the floor with a thump. “How did you find me? I thought you had no idea who I was.”
“I didn’t. But there is nothing I can’t find out, Violet. Remember that.”
I groan inwardly. That sounded like a threat.
“Except that you have a daughter, apparently.” There’s no lack of bitterness in her tone.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking.”
Violet’s chin lifts. “So you believe me now?”
“I read through that contract, and yes, it appears you were telling the truth.”
“Really? You sure this isn’t part of some sinister plan to steal all your precious money?” she spits out.
“If you had any idea the things that have been going on in my life lately, you might understand why I jumped to such a conclusion.”
“Violet, why don’t you come and sit down.” Gayle gestures toward the empty wing chair.
But Violet remains where she is, her eyes welling. “Did you two know?” At least her tone with her grandparents is less hostile. “Did you know what Mom did? He went to Hartley.” She throws a hand toward Henry. “He was her student!”
Gayle flinches. “We didn’t know. She didn’t tell us.”
“But you should have before you ran off to go find him,” Howard scolds gently.
“Which is one of the reasons I’m here. Do you have any idea the kinds of things that happen to young girls traveling alone in a city that size? Girls who look like you?” Henry steps forward, his tone full of reproach.
“I’m not stupid!” she yells back.
“It has nothing to do with being stupid. Though I wouldn’t call it a smart decision.”
“Where did you stay all night, Violet?” Gayle asks.
Violet opens her mouth and pauses, her eyes falling to the coffee cup in her hand. “A twenty-four-hour diner near the train station. I was fine. It was safe. Mom and I used to go there.”
I cock my head to try to read the cup. It has a cute red and blue monster logo that I’ve never seen before, but there’s a New York City address listed along the cup’s seam.
“You can’t be lying to your grandparents about where you are and taking trains into Manhattan whenever you feel like it,” Henry says, his tone sharp.
“Don’t pretend you care!” she erupts, tears running freely. “I just wanted you to know that I existed. Now you can leave. We don’t want you here.” She brushes her cheeks with a furious stroke of her hand. “And I do know what’s been going on in your life. I read all about it. Your psycho brother murdered your father because your father was sleeping with his twenty-something-year-old fiancée? As if I want to be a part of that family.”
Henry’s teeth grind. “You can’t trust what you read in the media.”
“Really? So you’re not marrying your twenty-one-year-old assistant after meeting her a few months ago?”
“Ex-assistant,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing. As if it matters.
“Your fiancée is only six years older than your daughter. Did you do the math on that, huh? The reporters are gonna love that.”
Henry’s nostrils flare. “Have you told anyone about me? Friends, teachers, anyone?” he pushes, his tone urgent.
“About your dirty little secret?” Her face pinches with fury. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s all you care about. Your reputation.”
Henry’s chest rises with a deep breath. “My reputation won’t be the one to suffer, Violet. What do you think the media will say about your mother if this story gets out?”
Fear sparks in Violet’s eyes. She’s been so focused on finding out who her father was, she probably didn’t give much thought to that question until now. “She’s gone, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I’ve lived in the public eye my entire life, and believe me, it will matter to you and to your grandparents, the things they’ll say about her. They will turn every memory of your mother upside down, invade her privacy in search of more dirt. People you thought you could trust will sell lies about her and you. Within hours of finding out, that cul-de-sac will be filled with vans and cameras.” He casts a hand toward the bay window and the street beyond it. “You won’t be able to leave this place without cameras shoved in your face. It’ll be a nightmare for you and your grandparents. And the things your neighbors and friends will say about Audrey?” Henry’s eyebrows are halfway up his forehead in warning.