Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bianca
My mind is absolutely reeling. Ashland is a McCarthy. The McCarthys who I have been conditioned to hate.
The McCarthys knew my father died working for them, and Ashland has verifiable proof that the McCarthys have been taking care of my family financially for years.
Marcus doesn't love me.
Marcus is a murderer.
But right now? There's something about being in the large, warm, comforting kitchen at the McCarthy family home that makes me feel welcome in a way I don't think I ever have. I'm not used to this.
The camaraderie between the sisters. The warmth and welcome .
Their mother sweeps into the room, tall and majestic, with kindness in her eyes I can spot a mile away. She has dark-black hair that's silver at the edges, swept up in a messy bun that’s kind of cute. She wears a pretty but simple cream-colored lounge set. I want to hug her.
“Well, hello,” she says, giving me a bright smile. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
“Mam,” Bronwyn says? the youngest of all. She's rosy-cheeked and fair, with long blonde hair, and her eyes dance with merriment. “You're not going to believe this,” she says with a grin. “This is Bianca White.”
She pauses, as if waiting for her mam to have a moment of recognition. But she doesn't.
“The name's familiar,” she says.
“No, it's not who she is that's going to surprise you. You probably wouldn't know… something about her father working for us. Right?” she says to me.
I nod.
Caitlin smiles back at me and winks.
“Then what's going to take me by surprise, lass?” she says, tipping her head to the side.
“It's who brought her here today,” Bronwyn says, as if announcing she just found the juiciest bit of gossip to share with her mother.
She looks at me. “Who'd you come with, Bianca? What a lovely name for such a lovely girl.” There’s an authenticity in her voice that makes me warm inside.
No one ever calls me beautiful. No one except Ashland. I swallow.
“Ashland?” I say, and I don't know why it comes out as a question.
She stares and blinks. “ Ashland ? Are you joking?” She grins, walks over to me, and grabs both my hands, squeezing them. “You're with Ashland, love? That's why he's been so secretive.”
“Aye,” I say with a smile. “Things are complicated, but aye, I'm with him.”
“Oh,” she says, brushing the air as if the complications don't matter.
“Every single relationship in our family is complicated, lass.
That's what happens when you're, you know, the McCarthys.
But wait. Oh, right. It was your da who managed the ring, wasn't it?” she says, as if cataloging the memories as she taps her lips.
“Aye.”
Bronwyn shakes her head.
“It's alright,” I say. “At this point, I think it's important to talk about the truth. You have to understand, Mrs. McCarthy?—”
“Please,” she says, reaching for my hand. “Call me Caitlin, lass. Sit down, have a cuppa. I always say there's nothing like a cup of tea to settle you, right? Have a seat, love.”
I take a seat, and tears prick the backs of my eyes.
My throat is tight, and I feel like I'm going to cry.
I need to, I think, but not now. Mam's always told me to suck it up, pull myself up by the bootstraps, and whatnot.
But here, Caitlin's patting the table beside her and gesturing for somebody in the corner to bring a plate of shortbread.
I look over, and Erin's smiling. “Here,” she says. “Caitlin's right, Bianca. Everything in this family is complicated, so don't apologize for that. But I've been thinking…” She pulls a chair across from me. “I have some questions.” She shakes her head. “No, not now.”
“What is it?” I ask, looking at the shortbread. The other girls tuck in, and I take one myself.
While they talk, Caitlin pours me a bracing cup of hot tea. It's so hot, it nearly burns my tongue. But she's right—it does help. I swallow a bite of shortbread, and Bronwyn pushes the plate toward me to take another.
“These are the best you’ll ever have,” she says with a wink. “Mam’s got a mate in Scotland who keeps us well stocked.”
I smile back at her. “They're delicious.”
“Alright, so you have to understand,” Erin says.
She's a studious-looking girl who seems a bit, how do I say it, aloof from the others.
She doesn't sit with them, like she prefers to think by herself.
She's older than I am by quite a few years, and I'm very curious about her history.
“I do the bookkeeping for the McCarthys.
I also pay whatever debts we have, and Crowning has been saying for a number of years that we owe him money we don't. I've proven it to him on paper, but he is… how do I say this… He’s a fucking gobshite.”
Caitlin spits out her tea. “Oh god, Erin, I do love it when you curse.”
Erin smiles and bites her lip. “He's obviously lying. He’s obviously cooked the books, and yet he's trying to pull a power move on us.
I don't know, there's more I need to look into,” she says.
“I also happen to know for a fact that everything Ashland told you about the McCarthy family paying bills is absolutely true. I signed the checks myself.”
“Right, I know. It’s just strange.” I take another sip of tea to calm my rising nerves. I wish there was something stronger in it. “I thought we weren't as well-off as we were for a very long time.”
Caitlin nods. “I'm never one to bad-talk family, lass. But that's a power move, isn't it?”
“What's that?” I ask, nibbling a corner of another piece of shortbread.
“Children thinking their family is financially unstable. That gives a parent power and control, doesn't it? Definitely something to look into,” she says with a nod to Erin.
Ashland’ s silhouette suddenly fills the doorway.
“There y’are,” he says. He looks a bit shy as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Getting on then?”
“Oh, go on.” Caitlin waves him off. “Go do your manly things. We’re having a bit of a jaw here. I'm sure Seamus has much to talk to you about, Ashland,” she says teasingly.
“Aye,” he says. “We've sorted things for now. I'd like to see Bianca alone for a bit.”
“Fair enough,” Caitlin says, standing. “Seamus had the second room to the right on the third floor prepared for you this morning.”
Ashland's brow furrows. “Second to the right on the third floor?”
“It's the safest one in the house,” Caitlin says quietly.
“The one furthest back from any line of…” She clears her throat.
“Line of fire or whatnot. He says that would be the best one because if anything were to happen and Bianca were in a difficult position, it would be an easy matter for her to slip into the secure room on the third floor, right?”
“Aye,” Ashland says. “It won't come down to that.”
“Ashland, I know you're going to do everything in your power, but I also know that Crowning has been at us for quite some time. Do you remember right before Cavin and Erin were married?” she says. “Remember what happened to the warehouse and how we discovered that was Crowning's doing?”
Ashland nods. “Aye.”
“He's been after us ever since. He doesn't like that we've risen in power. Crowning fancies himself the Irish mafia in Ballyhock. Unfortunately for him, we think otherwise. Don’t we?”
Ashland nods. “Right.”
“Now, enough talk for now. Erin, why don't you do what you need to? Report back to us, love, will you?” Caitlin says, and I get the distinct impression that, though she's kind and has a sweetness about her? this woman is hard as nails, and everybody in this room respects her for it.
“We'd like to chat a little more with her, Ashland. Can you give us a few minutes?”
“Aye,” he says reluctantly, crossing the space between us. And without further ado, he plucks me out of the chair, sits down heavily, and draws me onto his lap, as if I weigh nothing at all.
Bronwyn doesn't even bother to hide her giggle. Kyla watches on amusedly. Erin's busy researching something on her phone, and Caitlin gives me a broad wink.
“Atta boy,” she says. “That's what I like to see.”
I nestle myself against Ashland's sturdy thighs, his thick, warm arms banded around me.
“What is it we're looking up, Erin? ”
“Well, you know I've been keeping the books since Cavin and I have been married, right?”
“Aye,” Ashland says.
“And I verified for a fact that we have been giving Francesca White significant amounts of money over the past several years, seeing as her husband died in the line of duty for us, right?”
“Aye,” Ashland says again, wary.
“But the question is,” Erin says, “where does Crowning come in on this? How does Francesca White stand to benefit from a union between her daughter and Marcus Crowning? That, I don't understand.”
“Right,” Ashland says. “It's the very topic of conversation we were having ourselves, because whether or not the blowback from Crowning is as bad as we anticipated is the question of the day, isn't it? But I have a theory. We all do, actually.”
Erin's fingers pause on her phone screen.
“Has your Mam reached out to you since you came back with me?” Ashland says. His arms are secure around me, and he nestles his hands in my lap, my fingers intertwined with his.
“I—” I say quietly.
“May I take a look?” he whispers. “No one else needs to look, lass, just me. ”
I swallow hard and show him the slew of texts I've gotten, one after another after another.
Mam
What have you done? Where have you gone? What have you done to our family?
Look,” he says quietly. “She’s not concerned about you, is she? She’s asking what have you done to her .”
I nod, swallow, and lick my lips. I read back the messages where I told my mother that Marcus tried to hurt me, and her response:
Mam
He did no such thing. Stop being so dramatic.
And I can hear it now. Stop being so dramatic. Don't make it all about you. Why do you have to be so selfish?
Now that I'm outside her orbit, I can see more clearly. I wasn't selfish. I was manipulated. She tried to use me, and I allowed it.