“How about Semaphor?”
Resisting the urge to adopt a less relaxed position, Blake said, “It’s a nonprofit organization that raises public awareness of charitable foundations.”
“Your father was on the board.”
Blake knew that. The open position had been offered to Blake five years before, when he’d flown home in shock to take up the reins of the family business.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked as he leaned forward, putting his feet firmly on the floor and resting his forearms on the edge of his desk. The glass was cool on the skin left bare by the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt.
Schuster shook his graying head. “Not with you, no.” The pockmarks on the man’s face gave a hint of fierceness to his serious expression.
“And not with my father, either.” Of that Blake was certain. Walter Ramsden might have been obsessive, inflexible, and impossible to live with, but he had been as honest as they came. In all his dealings.
“How well do you know Eaton James?”
CEO of Terracotta Industries, which owned the Terracotta Foundation. “Well enough.”
Schuster raised one eyebrow. Blake looked away and stared out the twelfth-floor wall of windows that flanked the west side of his office, giving him a view that—if all civilization were wiped away—would take him straight to the ocean. Having it so close, that vast place of mystery and life, somehow calmed him.
“The man tried to swindle my father.” Blake gave Schuster dates. Times. Quotes from an investment agreement. Accounts. “That’s what I mean by well enough.”
“Are you willing to testify to this?”
Of course. If he had to. The one thing that held steady in his life was his compulsion to tell the truth. To tell it and to live it. But he didn’t relish showing his late father for the fool he’d apparently been in that incident, particularly since it was the only time in the man’s entire life that he’d been led by sentiment rather than logic.
“I have a paper trail outlining a series of investment frauds that, with your validation, could nail James to the wall,” Schuster said. “Without your testimony—the explanation that will tie all the paper evidence together—he could walk.”
“When do you need me in court?”
“YOU SURE LOOK gloomy.”
Leaning her head against the back of the seat, Mary Jane nodded.
“Was it rough, apologizing in front of everyone?”
“Nah.” She hadn’t cared. She was sorry she’d spit on Mrs. Thacker.
“Then what?”
“I just wish I didn’t have to go to any dumb school.”
What she wished was that she could stay home where Mom always knew what she meant, knew that she wouldn’t do bad things on purpose, and didn’t think it was weird that she didn’t know her dad.
She wished she’d never told that to dumb Jeff Turner anyway. But he’d made her really mad when he’d said her dad didn’t want her because her hair was so curly and she said weird stuff.
At least she hadn’t told Jeff that her dad didn’t know her, either—didn’t even know about her.
“School’s not dumb, Mary Jane. You’re a very smart little girl, but if you don’t learn facts and information, that intelligence isn’t going to do you a lot of good.”
“You could teach me at home.”
“Honey, you know I have to work.”
“Well, I can stay home alone and teach myself.”
“Did someone say something mean to you after I left?”
Thank goodness it had been yesterday when Jeff had said her dad didn’t want her. Because she couldn’t lie to her mom, and she didn’t want to tell her what he’d said.
“No.”
What if the thing Jeff said was true? What if her father didn’t want her?
“You sure?” Mom’s face was all soft and kind of smiling when she looked over at Mary Jane.
She nodded. And looked out the window for a while, thinking about her dad. Mom had told her a long time ago who he was. Her mom didn’t keep it a secret, because her grandma had kept secrets from Mom and Aunt Marcie that had turned out to hurt them a lot.
That big building downtown was her dad’s. And she was glad he didn’t know about her. If a man came to live with them, it would just mess up the best life she’d ever had. Still…
“Do you think Blake Ramsden woulda wanted me if you’d told him I was born?”
“He wasn’t anywhere where I could have told him,” Mom said. “You know that.”
“But when he did get somewhere, do you think he woulda wanted me?”
Mom was quiet for a while and that scared Mary Jane. If Jeff Turner was right about this, was he right about the other dumb stuff he said, too? Did everyone really hate Mary Jane and laugh at her behind her back because she mostly got all the answers?
Did they say they didn’t want to be her friend?
“I believe that if he knew you, he’d love you as much as I do,” Mom finally said.
That was good. “But would he want me?”
“I can’t speak for him, sweetie,” Mom said. “But I don’t see how he couldn’t want you. I’ve told you before that I would contact him for you if you wanted me to,” she added. “Would that help?”
“No!”
The trees were going by really fast and it made her a little dizzy, staring out at them. She liked them though. They were too big to be hurt by just about anything, ’cept lightning, and they helped you breathe.
“Did you want me?” She’d hadn’t planned to ask that.
Mom pulled into their street and into their carport and stopped the car, but she didn’t open her door. Mary Jane didn’t either.
“Why all the questions about being wanted?” Mom asked, frowning a little.
She shrugged. A shrug wasn’t a lie.
“When I first found out I was pregnant with you, I was scared to death.” That was something Mary Jane had never heard before. She stared at her mom.
“You were?” She’d never seen Mom scared of anything. Usually she made the scary stuff better.
“Uh-huh.”
“Scared of me, a little baby? How come?”
Mom’s fingers pushed curls off Mary Jane’s forehead. She liked it when Mom did that.
“I wasn’t afraid of you. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to take care of you. I was alone and not even a real lawyer yet because I hadn’t taken the bar exam. I had no idea how I’d support us.”
Oh. That kind of stuff. “But you did.”
Mom smiled. “Yes, I did.”
“So then did you want me?”
“Very much.”
That was enough. But Mary Jane liked talking about this. It made her feel good. Like she really was special and not a loser like Jeff Turner said.
“When did you first know you wanted me?” she asked, still sitting with her seat belt on even though she was getting pretty hungry.
Mom had kind of a faraway look, and Mary Jane knew