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Lizzie went through the old-fashioned stained-glass front door. Henry’s granddaughter, Chloe, who was home from law school temping for the summer, greeted her with a warm smile.
“Hey! What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” Lizzie lied and kept smiling. “I’m supposed to be meeting a Mrs. Smith here?”
“Yeah, that’s right. She’s in with Grandpa already. You can just go through.” Chloe waved toward the inner door. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Lizzie gathered her courage and went through into Henry Parker’s office, which faced the rear of the building and overlooked a small garden from when the office had been a private home. The last time she’d been here had been to help her parents with their wills.
“Miss Lizzie!” Henry, who was a stout, short man with white hair and a goatee, stood and held out his hand. “How kind of you to come by.”
Lizzie went forward to shake his hand. She turned to Miranda who was seated in front of the desk, looking very glamorous in a pink dress with matching accessories.
“Mrs. Smith.”
“Elizabeth.” Miranda smiled at her. “So good of you to come so that we can sort out this silly misunderstanding.” She gestured to Henry who had resumed his seat behind the desk. “I’ve been explaining everything to Mr. Parker.”
“Explaining what?” Lizzie asked mildly.
“That your sweet little boy is my grandson.”
Henry cleared his throat and wagged his finger at Lizzie. “I wish you’d told me about this earlier, young lady, because I could’ve gotten it all sorted out for you.”
“I’m still not sure what you’re getting at.” Lizzie said, playing dumb just for the heck of it. “Sorted out what?”
“I understand that the father of your child hasn’t played much of a part in your son’s life,” Henry said tactfully.
“That’s correct.” Lizzie nodded. “He ran away when I told him I was pregnant, tried to pretend he wasn’t the father, and blocked me from contacting him.”
Henry winced and Miranda was quick to intervene.
“He was . . . conflicted and he panicked. And, as you didn’t pursue the matter through the courts, Elizabeth, we did start to wonder whether he’d been right all along, and that you’d managed to get the real father to pay up.”
Lizzie’s first reaction was to start screaming, but she tamped down her frustration and pictured Roman’s innocent little face.
“Ray is the father of my son.” Lizzie said the words slowly and clearly. “After you blocked me, I decided I’d rather not have anything to do with you, and managed by myself.”
“Would you both be prepared to provide DNA samples to establish whether Ray is indeed the father of Roman?” Henry asked.
“Fine by me,” Lizzie said.
“I am willing to do that as well,” Miranda conceded.
“Well, that’s a start.” Henry nodded. “Perhaps, Mrs. Smith, you might wait for the results before you make any further decisions?”
“Decisions about what?” Lizzie asked.
“Well, I assume from what she’s been sharing with me, that Mrs. Smith would like to have some kind of relationship with her potential grandchild. Is that correct?” Henry looked at Miranda.
“Yes.”
Lizzie had to bite her lip not to shout out the instant denial that rose in her throat. She reminded herself that she’d always wanted Roman to have the option to know his father’s family, and that she had to negotiate in good faith. She still wasn’t prepared to sit there and let Miranda dictate all the terms.
“Surely that’s up to me?” Lizzie asked sweetly.
“Coretta said you wanted Roman to know his family,” Miranda said.
“Coretta chose not to take advantage of that option. Why would I assume any of you would want to do so?”
Miranda sighed. “There you go again, being all prickly. I don’t know what’s happened to you over the past four years. You used to be such a sweet, friendly, girl.”
“Maybe I had to bring up a child with no support from the father?” Lizzie wasn’t going to roll over that easily. “Maybe working two jobs, counting every penny, and having to rely on my parents way too much had an effect on me?”
