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“Look, I don’t know how to say this in a way that isn’t completely awkward,” she finally tells me, “so I’m just going to say it.”
Good. I glance through the doorway of the stable, seeing Noah and Tiernan’s heads over the top of a stall as they churn the hay.
“I’d like her to come home,” Patel says.
Tiernan can leave whenever she wants. I didn’t make her come here.
But at the same time, who is this woman to tell me what to do with my niece?
Mirai Patel goes on, “I can’t make her, and she’ll probably be angry I’m talking to you, but…”
“But?”
“I’m worried about her,” she finally states. “Tiernan doesn’t talk about things, and her parents passing away like they did won’t allow her the opportunity to resolve any of her issues with them. I want to be there for her. I’m worried everything building up inside of her will eventually spill over.”
“Spill over?”
Who is this woman? What arrogance to think I can’t handle this? I mean, I can’t, but she doesn’t know that.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that she’s quiet,” Patel tells me.
And? If a quiet kid is all I’m dealing with, then maybe I do have all the experience necessary to handle this.
“And you think you can raise her better?” I ask.
“I think you don’t know her. I do.”
I squeeze my fist around the phone.
A stranger I’ve never met or heard of until today lays claim to my brother’s child and she thought this conversation was going to go well?
“And I think if I turn over guardianship of Tiernan to you,” I say, “that puts you in charge of not only her emotional support, but her finances, as well. Am I right, Ms. Patel?”
She falls silent, and I smile to myself. Why else would someone who has no obligation to an underage orphan want that responsibility unless that underage orphan is loaded?
But then she speaks up, her tone firm. “I’ve had access to her finances since I started working for her parents ten years ago,” she says. “I can be trusted. Can you?”
I narrow my eyes.
“Just think of what all those millions will do for your business, Mr. Van der Berg,” she says.
And I clench my teeth so goddamn hard an ache flashes through my jaw like lightning. Is that what she thinks? I would sooner flush that money down the fucking toilet.
“Her place…” I finally grit out, “is with her family.”
“Her place is with someone who loves her.”
“This conversation is over.”
And I start to pull the phone away from my ear.
But then I hear her voice again and stop. “She used to wake up every night around one in the morning,” Patel says. “Like clockwork and without an alarm. Did you know that, Mr. Van der Berg?”
I remain silent, unsure if she’s telling the truth and hating that she knows something I don’t, if it is.
“Do you know why?” she taunts further.
I glance into the stable at Tiernan, watching her hop out of one of the stalls with her arm covering her nose and mouth as she dry heaves at the smell. Noah pats her on the back, silently laughing behind her, but then she swats at him, and he just laughs harder.
