Fool Me Once. Fern Michaels
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screen. She checked them all. Her mother’s history, presented in an interview format, was a short summary of how she had gotten started in the business and the trials and tribulations of a woman trying to make it in a very tough market. She catered to housewives. Women who had to watch their pennies. She herself, she declared, liked fine things and had found a way to sell cheap imitations the housewife could afford. No, she wasn’t a housewife, but she understood the mind-set of a woman both raising children on a limited budget and wanting fine things. On holidays, the interviewer said, Ms. Ames offered free shipping.
How had it all started? Baby bracelets. Those little beads new babies were given at birth to identify them. “I took it one step further by making the beads colorful and sizing them accordingly, with a tough, resilient elastic,” Ames said. “A money-back guarantee was offered. One has to stand behind one’s products. The bracelets led to other articles until I had enough for a full-featured catalog. I bet my shirt and gambled. It worked.”
The article went on to ask if she’d ever married. Ms. Ames said she was married to her business. Did she regret not having children, a family? She said her customers were her family, and one couldn’t miss something one never had.
And the rest was history.
There was a little more to the article. The long hours, doing things herself. Her confidence. Her philanthropy. Her collection of cars, her many houses. Her incredible wealth. How her employees adored her. The lavish Christmas presents she bestowed on her faithful staff. She had no immediate family.
“What a crock.” Olivia clicked on a button to bring up pictures of the home of Adrian Ames, a.k.a. Allison Matthews Lowell. She whistled approvingly. “Way to go, Mommie Dearest,” she mumbled as she scanned the lavish estate and its designer rooms. Obviously mail-order was the way to go.
Olivia clicked on the BACK button and proceeded to print out the articles and pictures for her father’s benefit. Certainly not hers. After he looked at them, she’d toss them into the fireplace.
Olivia reached for the envelope. It felt heavy. Great. It was probably Adrian Ames’s life story—a missive. She opened it. No, not a missive. A missive was many pages. There were only three sheets of paper, lined paper ripped from a legal pad. The writing was large, taking up two lines for each sentence. She was surprised to see a tissue-wrapped square among the three pages. She opened it carefully and was stunned to see her baby bracelet. It said, BABY LOWELL. Olivia tossed it onto her desk before she leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up on the desk. She looked down at the letter. It was dated ten months earlier. It was written in April, Olivia’s favorite month of the whole year.
Dear Olivia,
I can only imagine how shocked you must be at this intrusion into your life. By now I am also certain that your father has explained things to you. I know he never would have divulged our secret to you, but things changed in my life, and I regret that I am the one breaking our pact.
Six weeks ago I received some bad news in regard to my health and knew after the initial shock that I had to put my house in order. There’s no need to bore you with the details.
I know you’ve had a good, wonderful life. I know this because your father is a kind, caring man. He couldn’t wait for you to be born. He talked endlessly of the things he was going to do with his son or daughter. I know he named you after his mother. It’s a beautiful name. I didn’t become involved in your life until you turned sixteen, at which time I hired a private investigator who sent me weekly reports. I’m very proud of you, not that that means anything.
I’m leaving everything I have to you. Not because I feel guilty but because it is the right thing to do. It’s that simple. I wish I could say I feel something maternal, but I don’t. I never have.
Now, I want you to do something for me. Because it is the right thing to do. It doesn’t affect your inheritance in any way. I would take care of these matters myself, but unfortunately, time doesn’t permit it.
Before I met your father, the spring of my last year at Ole Miss, I worked in a small, privately owned bank. I worked there for four years. I liked being around money even then. I robbed the bank with the help of my two best friends, Jill Davis and Gwen Nolan. We didn’t go up to the teller and demand money or anything like that. We just helped ourselves to a package of bearer bonds. We held on to them for five years. That’s how long I was married to your father.
Jill, Gwen, and I met up two weeks after I walked out of the hospital after giving birth to you and divided up the bonds. That’s how I started my mail-order business. We agreed not to keep in touch, though we did take each other’s phone numbers and addresses in case of emergency. We eventually lost track of one another, although Gwen once asked for a loan. I want you to find them, and I want you to return the money to the bank anonymously. When you take possession of my house, go to the safe in my bedroom, and you’ll find what little information I’ve been able to gather in regard to Jill and Gwen. The combination to the safe is under the blotter on my desk.
If for some reason Jill and Gwen balk about paying the money back, I want you to be stern with them. It was wrong what we did. It has haunted me all these years. I’m sure it’s haunted Jill and Gwen, too. Paying the money back is the best way for them to deal with the guilt. If they don’t cooperate with you, repay all the money from my account. I would like you to do one last thing for me even though I have no right to ask. Buy your father the boat of his desires. Anonymously, of course. I owe him that much, and he deserves so much more. Have a good life, Olivia.
All best wishes,
Adrian Ames (Allison Matthews)
Olivia bolted off the chair, the letter clutched in her hands. “Daaaaaddddd!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Daaaaddd!”
Chapter 6
Dennis Lowell shrugged out of his down jacket and ran to his white-faced daughter, who was shaking from head to toe. The jittery dogs at his feet danced and pranced as they tried to make sense out of the high-pitched babble around them. “What? For God’s sake, what happened, Ollie?”
“Read this! Just read this!” Olivia shrieked. “Your wife is a thief!” She corrected herself. “Was a thief. Her friends are thieves! She robbed a damn bank! She wants me to…she wants me to…Read the letter, Dad!”
Dennis reached for the yellow sheets of paper in his daughter’s hands. He had to pry her fingers loose. “Ease up, Ollie. Ease up.” Olivia relaxed her hold on the letter and handed it over. She started to pace as her father read the letter. “Well?” she shouted. “Say something, Dad.”
Dennis sat down at the kitchen table. “I don’t know what to say, Ollie. I never had a clue. Not one. For some reason, though, it doesn’t surprise me. Allison was never afraid to take risks. What does surprise me is that she convinced Jill and Gwen to go along with her. Obviously, that little caper was something she couldn’t pull off on her own. Don’t look at me like that, Ollie. Don’t blame me for this.”
Olivia ran her fingers through her hair. The color was coming back into her face. “I’m not blaming you, Dad. She wants me to…The nerve, the gall of the woman! She said she had no maternal feelings. She made these arrangements because…because it was the right thing to do. Damn her to hell! I’m not doing it! No one can make me do this. Almost forty years later she wants me to return the money, anonymously. She’s still not willing to take responsibility for what she did. Explain that to me, Dad.”
“I can’t, honey. No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do. The letter was sealed. That has to mean the lawyer doesn’t know what’s in it. I seriously doubt Allison, I mean Adrian Ames, would have confided in her attorney even though the communication would have been privileged. Don’t even think about buying me a boat anonymously.”
Olivia continued her frantic pacing to the annoyance of the four scampering dogs as they circled and whined at her feet. “We need to make some coffee, and we need to put something in it.” She ran water until it cascaded over the pot and down to the floor. The dogs lapped it up. Then she spilled