What kind of parents would listen to someone else tell them what to do where their only child was concerned? Then again, Sarabess Windsor wasn’t exactly someone else.
Chapter 6
Jake looked at the little light blinking on his phone console. “Yes?” It was Stacy telling him his new client was in the waiting room. He shook down the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, shrugged into his lightweight jacket, and jerked at his tie before he got up to walk over to the door to greet Miss Julia Barrows, his brand-new client.
To his credit, Jake didn’t even blink. The urge to slam the door in Sarabess Windsor’s face was very strong, but he turned on his heel, his back ramrod stiff, and walked back to his desk.
“Don’t be tiresome, Jacob. This is business. I’m not an ogre. View this appointment as the mountain coming to Mohammed.”
Jake leaned as far back in his chair as he could. Sarabess leaned forward. Jake was aware of how charismatic she was, how elegant, how forceful. It didn’t change his feelings one iota. “I told my father to tell you I have no free time, and I’m not taking on any new clients. There’s nothing you can say or do, Mrs. Windsor, to make me change my mind. I think it’s safe to say it’s carved in stone.”
Sarabess leaned back in the comfortable client chair and crossed her legs. She had nice legs, Jake noted. He clarified the thought. For someone her age.
“The only thing I’m guilty of, Jacob, is…was a mother’s love for her child and wanting that child to have some kind of normal childhood. Your father warned me that I was stepping over the line of doting mother by forcing you and other youngsters to come up to the Hill to entertain my daughter. I’m sorry to say I didn’t listen to him. I did not steal your father’s affections. Your father and I were friends, but nothing, I repeat, nothing, happened while your mother and my husband were alive. In plain English, Jacob, there were no intimacies, no trysts, contrary to what you might have been led to believe. Neither your father nor I would permit something like that. We were married to other people. Two years after your mother’s death, that all changed, and I don’t deny it.”
“I’m really not interested in your love life, Mrs. Windsor, nor am I interested in my father’s. The two of you broke my mother’s heart. I resent your coming here under false pretenses. I can’t help you, and I don’t know why you’re so insistent on my doing so. I was quite clear with my father. And just to keep the record straight,” Jake said, as he remembered Lillian Henderson’s words of yesterday, “I resented the hell out of those command performances all us kids had to endure in regard to Emily. Your daughter was a mean, selfish, hateful little girl who lashed out at us, knowing it was what you did to others in your own way. Trinity Henderson used to get punished because she wouldn’t tolerate your daughter’s hatred. My mother and father had a verbal knockdown, drag-out fight when he tried to force me to go up to the Hill. I’m delighted to say, my mother finally won that argument.”
“Emily was a sick little girl.”
“Yes, she was. But you condoned everything she did. You allowed her to raise her hand to you. Billy Osborne told us all how Emily would spit on you when she threw one of her tantrums. You allowed that.”
Sarabess licked at her lips. “Guilty as charged,” she whispered. “Emily just wanted to be like all of you.”
“Well, she wasn’t like all of us. Had we known, I’m sure we would have been kinder and more tolerant. We were kids. If Emily had been a little nicer, a little less demanding, less spiteful, we would have welcomed her into our circle of playmates. I blame you, Mrs. Windsor.”
“And I accept that blame. I made mistakes. Perhaps one day your father will share some of those mistakes with you. I’m simply not up to it right now. I want you to find someone for me. I have no desire to broadcast my business, and I thought that you would be a little kinder and accommodate me. I want to…I want to make things right for this person I want you to find. Her name is Grace Finnegan. She’s roughly my age. I would like to make her last years more comfortable.”
“You’re a little late out of the gate, aren’t you, Mrs. Windsor? You want to make things right after a lifetime of wrongs. At least I think that’s what you’re saying. It doesn’t work that way for me. I can recommend an excellent private investigator. He works out of Columbia, so you won’t have to worry about his broadcasting your personal business.”
Sarabess knew she was beaten. She’d been so certain she could convince Jacob Forrest to help her. She didn’t need or want a private investigator, she needed the attorney-client privilege. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake at this point in time. She stood up and looked down at Jake. “I hope you can let go of your hatred, Jacob.”
Jake stood up. “Hatred is a strong word. Until yesterday I would have said I didn’t like you. I never would have used the word hatred. Who are you, and what right did you have to tell the Hendersons not to try to find Trinity Henderson? Who gave you the right to hold that man’s job over his head so he would obey your decree? The arrogance of you. Tell me that, Mrs. Windsor. It’s easy to see where Emily came by her own arrogance. Now, I do hate you. For all you know, Trinity Henderson could have been picked up by some pervert and abused or killed. My God, Mrs. Windsor, she was only fifteen years old. What you did was unforgivable. Yes, you made some mistakes, but you have to live with them, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do have to live with them. Good-bye, Jacob.”
“Good-bye, Mrs. Windsor.” Professional that he was, Jake escorted Sarabess Windsor to the door. The minute she was clear of the door, he kicked it shut. He was so angry, he wanted to smash something.
Stacy poked her head in the door. “Wasn’t that…?”
“Yes. Close the door, Stacy. Wait a minute. Is my father in his office?”
“He just arrived. He came in the back door. If your next question is, Did he see Mrs. Windsor?—the answer is no.” The door closed softly.
Jake stood rooted to the floor. He’d always been a responsible person. He never did foolish things. He was dedicated to his profession. He considered himself a man who cared. All thanks to his wonderful mother. He took a deep breath, walked over to the wall where his law degree hung. He removed it, packed up his briefcase, then wrote out an outrageous check to Stacy. His possessions under his arm, he walked out to his secretary’s desk, handed her the check, and said, “As of this moment, you are unemployed. Don’t say anything. Go home and plan your wedding.”
Jake strode down the hall to his father’s office. He didn’t bother to knock. He opened the door, and yelled, “I quit. It’s all yours, Pop! I want you out of my mother’s house, my house, by the close of business today. Move in with that bitch up at the Hill.”
“Jake! What the hell! What’s wrong with you?”
Jake lost it then. “You’re what’s wrong with me! You and that arrogant woman!” he shouted. He yanked the door closed and proceeded to gallop down the hall to the EXIT door. Outside in the bright summer sunshine, he looked around. There wasn’t a soul in sight in the parking lot. He didn’t have to look back at the building he’d just exited to know there were faces at the window watching him. Only God knew what they were thinking or saying. He sat in his car for a full minute trying to decide if he cared or not. He decided he didn’t care at all. The ignition caught and he barreled out of the lot. His destination: Mitzi’s house.
As he drove down Dorchester Road, Jake wondered what the hell was happening to him. He’d never done an irrational thing in his life. Well, he’d sure as hell gone for the brass ring this time.
Fifteen minutes later, Jake careened onto Mitzi’s driveway, at which point he slowed down to admire the landscaping, or lack of it. Everything looked au naturel, viny and overgrown, just the way Mitzi liked it. The vibrant purple wisteria was everywhere. Because of the exceptionally cold winter, the wisteria had been late to bloom. His mother