Page 93 of The Hardest Hit
“I miss you too,” she agreed. “Next Christmas we’ll figure something out. I know I screwed the pooch on this Christmas—”
“It wasn’t you.”
“Next Christmas we’ll figure something out. Promise.”
33
Evan – Painted Blackmail
Sunday dinner had been moved to Sunday brunch so that everyone could get on with their New Year’s Plans. Evan was looking forward to New Year’s this year. He and Liv were going to go see some fireworks from the Deveraux boat, yacht, whatever thing it was that floated in the water that Evan forgot about ninety percent of the year. He thought that she’d like the champagne he’d picked out too.
But first, he had to tell Eleanor about Olivia.
Evan blew out all of his air in a big breath, straightened his tie, and climbed the stairs to Deveraux House. Christmas repeat day had gone well—Jackson’s minor explosion over Japan aside—Grandma had been nice and there had been hugs and smiles all the way around. He shouldn’t be this nervous. All he had to say was:Grandma, I have a girlfriend and I’d like you to meet her. Jackson was on board. Dominique liked her. Aiden just seemed happy that Evan was happy. Everything should be fine.
Then why was he so nervous?
Why couldn’t he shake the sense of impending doom?
“Good morning, Mr. Deveraux,” said Theo. “I believe Mr. Jackson and Mrs. Deveraux are in the study.”
Was that a worried look on Theo’s face?
Evan went to the study and felt a tightness in his chest the second he crossed the threshold.
“You’re not giving me enough time,” Jackson was saying as Evan entered. Evan looked at Jackson’s expression and knew it was bad news.
“There is no time,” said Eleanor. “Evan, good, you’re here. It’s time we talked.”
“Talked?” Evan had the feeling of a trap closing around him. He looked at Jackson, who looked away. “About what?”
“This… girl you’ve been seeing.” Eleanor sneered around the wordgirl.
Evan looked at Jackson again, this time he grimaced and shook his head. Evan wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Olivia,” said Evan. “Her name is Olivia.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Eleanor. “You’ll stop seeing her.”
Evan stared at his grandmother and thought about all the ways to respond to her.
“No,” he said, deciding that his therapist was right, simple direct communication was usually the most effective.
“Evan, loyalty is a virtue, but she lied to you. And now you’ve gotten us, me, into a very bad position.”
“Olivia doesn’t lie,” said Evan.
Eleanor reached into her briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of paper. “She’s a honey pot,” said Eleanor and handed him the paper.
Evan found that his hands were icy and he had to blink a few times to focus on the printed material in front of him. The top sheet was an email. From Ralph Taggert. He had to read it twice to make it make sense. It finally came clear when he realized that the granddaughter Ralph Taggert was going on about was Olivia.
He thought of all the times he’d wanted to strangle her grandfather and all the times he’d met Ralph Taggert in person and wanted to punch him in the face. In some ways, it was nice to narrow the field of his hate to a single person.
He thought of Olivia standing in the hotel room in Tokyo.Are Deverauxes a… a thing?There was no way she’d known that, for the Deverauxes, Taggerts were a thing.
“Yes?” he said looking up.
“Next one,” snapped Eleanor.
