Chapter 22 Grafton #2
I get to my feet, ignoring the way my knees creak, even when Ginny lets out a howl of laughter. I’m positive Lynley snorts, but when I look, her expression is innocent.
Upright and fairly stable, I roll my sleeves up and stretch my arms out. “You ready for this, Little Dancer?” I ask playfully, and Ginny claps her hands excitedly.
“You have to do a handstand,” she instructs me, but then her expression turns to disbelief again. “Do you know how to do a handstand?”
“Grafton…” Lynley warns. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
I scoff at her. “I’ve never had a bad idea, this included.”
“Hey, Momma,” Ginny calls. “If he breaks his arm, will he get a cast, like I did?”
There’s a twinkle in my lady’s blue eyes. “I’ll make sure of it. In fact, why don’t we ask the doctors to make it a smashing pink?”
Her daughter lets out a peal of laughter as I shake my head, clucking my tongue in disappointment. “No faith at all.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Judith demands as I walk from the elevator to my office door. “Have you broken something?”
I scowl at her. “No, I haven’t broken anything.” I look away, muttering, “Just pulled a muscle.”
She ducks her head, but doesn’t quite manage to hide the smirk in time.
She clears her throat. “Vivian Alhurt, from Oceanic Capital, called. She needs to push the meeting back an hour. Your brother called, requesting an audience”—I blink at her choice of words, but she only shrugs—“and I said you’d get back to him at your earliest convenience. ”
“You really do like poking the bear, hm?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Judith returns primly. “There’s also a note on the planner to remind you to call your parents.”
I rub the back of my neck, knowing I need to rip the Band-Aid off for that one. “Right. Guess Vivian’s timing works, then, hm? Thanks, Judith.”
I head into the office, her voice following me. “I’ll order you some painkillers and a heat pack.”
I open my mouth to tell her not to, but another step has a sharp pain rolling through my back, and I grunt. “Fine.” I shut the door on her laughter, collapsing back into my chair with relief.
I might have managed the handstand just fine, but the landing is where I went sideways. But Ginny was impressed enough to make it worth it, even though I know I’ll be feeling the pain for a solid week or two.
When the stabbing ache subsides, I pull my phone out and pull up my parents’ contact. It rings five times before my father finally picks up. “Graft! We wondered whether you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”
“Pops,” I greet. “Boy, I’m glad you aren’t becoming dramatic in your old age.”
He scoffs rudely. “What did you expect us to think? We’ve heard from your brother more than we’ve heard from you.”
I go still at that. “Is that right?”
My father hums through the line, the sound so full of exasperation I can’t help but smile. “Yes.” His voice is filled with sardonic amusement. “Thatcher told us all about the situation Angelica’s got herself entangled in.”
I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Don’t tell me he came running to you for money.”
“I’m surprised you guessed,” he responds dryly. “I thought Angelica was working for you.”
“She was. Or is, I suppose. Her resignation hasn’t come across my desk yet, but she’s got Thatcher’s work ethic and a bigger plan than interning at a marketing firm.”
“I never understood why Thatcher was so insistent that you get her a job,” my father remarks. “And I’m not sure I want to know what ‘bigger plan’ means, but tell me anyway.”
“You know she’s pregnant,” I say, waiting for his noise of confirmation. “Well, the person she’s pointing fingers at is a former employee of mine. A married employee.”
He lets out a low curse. “Please tell me there are no children involved.”
I’m not surprised that is one of his first questions. “Can’t do that, Pops,” I murmur. “There are two of them, nine and seven. Good kids.”
“Angelica knew?” There’s a thread of hope, like he wants me to tell him that it’s not true, and I hate to pull the thread loose.
“She knew. He didn’t even bother to take his wedding ring off when he broke his vows. He’s going through a divorce now, but it’s a messy situation.”
He lets out a low, vicious curse. “Thatcher told us that she was pregnant and needed help, but he left a lot of the details out.” Another curse, strong enough to blister my ears through the phone. “Your mother won’t be happy about this, but the eggs have already hatched, I guess.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say they’re hatched, but they’re definitely fertilized."
He grunts, unimpressed with my inappropriate humor. “You said good kids,” he says suddenly, and I blink, staring blindly across my office. “You sound like you know them.”
I lean forward, picking a pen up off my desk and spinning it through my fingers. “Caught that, did you, old man?”
“I might not be as spritely as I once was, but my mind is still as sharp as a tack.” He chuckles. “Now, answer the question.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a question.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “It almost sounds like you are personally invested in these children, knowing them and their ages right off the bat. Bet you even know their names.”
“Pops…”
“You said this employee was going through a divorce, hm?” He’s like a crocodile in a death roll. He’s not going to let this go now that he’s got the taste of blood. “Messy situation, divorces. You usually avoid complicated, like it’s a virus that’s gonna peel the skin off your bones.”
“Beautiful imagery, Pops.”
“Add in your brother and niece, and I’m surprised you’re not running for the hills on this one.”
“Do you actually need me for the conversation?” I ask casually, throwing the pen back down. “You seem like you’re having a fine time on your own.”
He chuckles, and that’s my only warning before he’s yelling, “Louise!” I yank the phone away from my ear, but he’s still clear as day when he says, “Graft’s got himself a girl!”
“Jesus…” I sigh, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. “I thought we were talking about Thatcher.”
“Now we’re talking about you,” he tells me cheerfully, just as there’s a click, and my mother comes on their second line. “A girl, Grafton? Tell me he’s not kidding. I’ve been waiting for this day for years.”
I hesitate, because my father isn’t wrong. This situation with Lynley is complicated, but she’s also worth it. And she also deserves a family who backs her, not the assholes she’s been stuck with. “Yes,” I confess. “There’s a girl—woman,” I correct.
My mother makes a sound that I’ve never heard from her before, almost blowing my eardrums off. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this day?”
“Years,” I repeat dryly, flicking my thumbnail against the pad of my index finger. “Thatcher was married,” I remind her patiently, and she snorts.
“That nasty piece of work doesn’t count. And we love Thatcher and Angelica, we do, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to sit around and enable them.”
I frown. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing?”
For a long moment, neither speaks, and I can almost hear them communicating telepathically. “Not on purpose,” my father says gruffly. “But at some point, you have to cut those ties, Graft, before he pulls you down with him.”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard these words, but the reality hits harder this time. I’ve always tried with Thatcher—less these days, honestly—but he is my brother and blood.
After Angelica turned eighteen, my parents took a big step back, telling Thatcher that it was time for him to grow up and take accountability for himself.
Now, I’m thinking I should’ve done the same.
I kept him out of my agency, but maybe I shouldn’t have offered Angelica the position as intern because it opened up the door to Thatcher’s special brand of poison.
“I hear you,” I admit after a moment.
“You do?” My mother’s voice is surprised before she covers it up. “Well, of course you do. We’re always right.”
“It’s not just about Thatcher anymore,” I tell her. “I’ve got other people in my life I care about, and they’ve been exposed to enough toxicity to last them a lifetime. I won’t expose them to Thatcher and Angelica. No more than I have to.”
“Oh, Graft…” my mom whispers. “They sound like they’ve been through a lot.”
“More than anyone’s fair share, Mom,” I tell her quietly. “They need a good family.”
There’s a beat, and then my father clears his throat. “When are you bringing them to visit? You know we don’t like the dreary weather there, so you’re better off bringing them for a holiday vacation. Lots of fun things for kids to do.”
I roll my eyes, knowing they are already out of the gate and running with their plans. “Might have a few things to sort out before we start going on vacations together.”
We fill my mother in on the situation with Angelica, and how my girl fits in, as well as everything I’ve done to help her. By the end of it, she’s fuming, her voice wavering, “I don’t know what happened to Thatch, but he’s made his choices, and he needs to learn to live with them. As for Angelica…”
“She’s an exact replica of both her parents,” I interject. My father lets out a humorless chuckle.
“That she is.” He sighs heavily. “What’s your take on this baby situation? We won’t turn our backs on our grandchild, and if it’s as messy as you say…”
I roll my lips inward, considering my answer. But my parents and I have always had an honest relationship, and I won’t change that now. “The timing of it feels off,” I admit.
“You think she’s lying about who the baby’s father is?” Mom asks curiously.
I let out a slow breath. “I’m not sure, but something doesn’t add up about it all.”
My mother tuts her tongue in disapproval. “Either way, I will not condone this kind of behavior. From Thatch or Angelica. This is not what our family does.”
“You sure, Louise?” my father asks. “That’s not something we can ever take back.”
“This man, this Christopher… He sounds like a real piece of work. Lynley and those children are better off without him. But I will not sit back and watch as my blood destroys families. Thatcher is thirty-eight years old, and it’s time he acted like it.
His daughter got into this mess. He can get her out. ”