Home For Christmas. Catherine Lanigan
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he replied with that dark tone he’d used before.
“You’re angry with me. About the past…”
He took a long step toward her. “Not the past, Joy. The present. I was the one who was with Frank when he had the heart attack. I called 911. I was in the hospital with him. I held his hand when he passed.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“His last thoughts were about you.”
“Thank you for being with him.” A new wave of guilt and grief hit her.
“I should go.” He started to go, then turned back to her.
Joy braced as she felt a wave of heat from him.
“I know Frank lied to you about some things, but it seems to me you could have pried yourself away from your city friends long enough to visit your only living relative. All these years and you never came back. I watched Frank spend Christmas after Christmas alone. He talked about you and the old days. How he loved you. And what did he get? A ten-minute phone call, Joy. A ten-minute phone call.”
Adam slapped his hat against his thigh, turned and stomped toward the French doors.
Joy’s natural defenses shot to the fore. “I have responsibilities!”
Adam pulled to a stop and marched back to her. His face was nearly nose to nose with hers. “Nothing was as important as Frank and you know it. I would have killed to have what you had with Frank. All that love. All that concern and caring. At least I got to enjoy that after college, when I came back here. Frank befriended me as if not a day had passed. He may have been your blood, but he was my family. And I miss him.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, as she lowered her eyes.
He moved back. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I swore when I moved back here that I’d keep myself in check. Getting close to people never worked out for me.”
“Like when I left—”
“Like then, yeah.”
Joy blinked back tears. Everything Adam said was true, and she felt like dirt. She should have come to visit her grandfather, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t always college or her career. It was Indian Lake. The place where her loving parents were buried. She couldn’t face it. She wouldn’t be reminded of the way they died. And the aftermath.
“I’m sorry, Adam. For everything.”
“Yeah. Well.” He stepped back. “I guess I’ll see you at the funeral.”
“Yeah.”
Deflated, Joy watched Adam walk away before backing up to the counter and slowly sliding to the floor.
Joy pulled her knees to her chin, shivered and looked at the empty space. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry, Grandpa. Please forgive me.”
JOY GREETED THE dark-haired, fortyish receptionist at Evans and Evans Law Firm office and asked if she could leave her luggage behind the front desk.
“Of course. I’ll let Mr. Evans know you’re here,” she said and picked up the intercom. “Mr. Evans is down the hall, Miss Boston.”
Joy wheeled her weekender around to the back wall. “Thank you.”
Kyle Evans greeted Joy at the door to his office. She guessed him to be in his midthirties. He was tall, handsome and wore a well-tailored blue suit. He held out his hand. “Joy. I’m Kyle, and I’m so sorry for your loss.” He ushered her into a bright, cheery office, decorated with Danish modern furniture and a wall-to-wall aquarium.
Joy was still mired in confusion. “Kyle, I just went by the greenhouses. I don’t understand. Grandpa told me this was going to be a banner year for him.”
Kyle held a chair for Joy as she sat. Then he went around to his side of the desk. “That was a bit inaccurate.”
“What’s going on?”
“I worked with him when he closed up. I think, though he never said so outright, that he always hoped to reopen them. I told him it would take a miracle.”
“And he never told me about any of this.”
“Frank was a proud man. And he didn’t want you to worry about his failure.”
“Failure?”
“The business was too much for him to run alone. Costs were rising and he told me he would never ask you to come home to save him.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” she replied. “I was firm on that issue when I moved to New York.”
“He was so proud of you and your career. He talked about you all the time.”
Kyle looked down at the papers on his desk. “He left everything to you. The house, the greenhouses, his old truck.”
“He…still has that truck?”
“He did. Yes.”
“And it runs?”
“Uh, yeah. It does.” Kyle folded his hands and put them on the desk. “I’m so sorry, Joy. This all has to be such a shock for you. It was for me. For the whole town.”
“Grandpa never told me he was ill,” she said, feeling another bout of tears stinging her eyes.
“I understand from his doctor that Frank died soon after arriving at the hospital.”
“That’s what I heard.” She remembered Adam’s description of Frank’s death. Joy couldn’t help her tears now. They came like a torrent. She found a travel pack of tissues in her purse and whisked the tears from her face. “We never talked about what to do if he died. I guess I’m guilty of thinking he would live forever. He was…my grandpa.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned forward. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I…I can’t help it. I have no idea what to do. All he ever said was that when he died, he would make sure I was taken care of. I thought it was a life insurance policy or something. I’d always cut him off. Talking about death reminded me too much of my mom and dad.”
“I remember,” Kyle said. “I’m sorry for your loss of them, as well.”
She looked into his empathetic eyes and wondered if the caring she saw was genuine or if that was some mask law school professors taught students to wear when dealing with bereaved clients. The minute the thought entered her head, Joy realized it was something that Chuck had said once to her. She cast it away.
“It’s fine. And the details are in his will.”
“Oh.”
“I talked to Father Michael over at Saint Mark’s. He’s waiting for your call.”
“I should have a reception or something after the funeral. At his home.” Joy blew her nose in the tissue. “Pardon me.”
“Certainly. Olivia Barzonni over at the Indian Lake Deli has offered to cater a lunch for you. If you wish. She and her mother, Julia, are great people.”
“Olivia Melton? She’s married now, then. Yes, I remember her. She was a friend in high school.” Joy brightened a bit.
“And Sarah Bosworth said to tell you if there’s anything you need, she’s here. Sarah Jensen Bosworth, that is. She—”
“Sarah is married, too?”
“She is. Three kids. I see Luke at the YMCA where we work out with Gabe and Nate Barzonni. Scott Abbott joins us often, as well.”
Joy put her hands to her cheeks. “All these names. Talk about a blast from the past.”
“Joy. All your friends are here for you.