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“Yes,” Edward muttered, shaking his head. “Somewhere along the line I screwed up with you and James. You’re not afraid of me like you should be. Everyone else in the family is.”
“Except Grandmother,” Blake reminded him. “Fear’s not in her vocabulary. As for James and me, it’s not a matter of your screwing up. It’s a matter of your nurturing what we represent: your legacies. James is fulfilling one—your life’s passion—and I’m fulfilling the other—your life’s work. He inherited your hunger for Olympic gold, and I inherited your business creativity and the balls to take Pierson & Company where it needs to go.”
A simple enough explanation, Blake mused. With an ocean of details omitted. It was true that neither he nor James was afraid of their grandfather. But that was for entirely different reasons. And, yes, they each represented a different priority in Edward’s life. But that’s where the similarities ended.
“If you’re saying I’m softer on the two of you because of your likenesses to me, that’s bullshit, at least where you’re concerned,” Edward replied, as if reading Blake’s mind. “James is one story. But I’m harder on you than I am on any of your cousins, your uncles, and, certainly, your father. He’s a lost cause.”
Blake shrugged. “Dad’s just not driven.”
“Oh, he’s driven all right. To sail, play golf, take vacations. You’d never know he’s Pierson & Company’s VP of marketing. He’s in the office about three days a month. The rest of the time he and your mother are gallivanting around the world.”
“He manages his end of the business.”
“No, you manage his end of the business.” Edward’s gaze clouded. “But that’s about to change. Everything’s about to change, with Frederick gone.”
“I realize that.” Blake blew out his breath. “Let’s take this one step at a time. The coroner has the dental records. Soon they’ll make a positive ID. After that, we’ll call James—before the news leaks out and he catches sight of a newspaper. The corporate jet will be there waiting. It’s on standby, ready to fly him home, and back to Wellington after the funeral. Niles and Lynn are already back from Florida, and Mom and Dad will be landing tonight. Everyone else is home, ready to do whatever’s necessary. As for the other company VPs, I’ll call them after we’ve told James. We’ll call an emergency management committee meeting for later this week, once the funeral’s behind us.”
Edward nodded. “Good.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking peaked but, at the same time, as if his wheels were spinning a mile a minute.
“As for the cops, maybe they’ll be more forthcoming once they have official confirmation of Frederick’s death,” Blake suggested.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” A pause. “Sally Montgomery’s ex is a retired cop.”
Now, that announcement came out of left field. “So?”
“So he was with the NYPD. Worked a tough area in Brooklyn. Retired from the force a couple of years ago. Now he’s got his own PI
business. He’s got quite a client list, from what I gather.”
“And you know this how?”
“I made a few phone calls this afternoon, too—after I found out this Pete Montgomery had driven up to Lake Luzerne to consult with the sheriff.”
“Next question—why is this important?”
“Because he’s got an inside track to the cops and his ex-wife. Which means he might know more than he’s saying. Also, because he sounds like a good guy to have in our corner.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to pump him for information?”
“No.” Edward gripped his knees, the faraway look in his eyes vanishing. “I’m going to hire him.”
DEVON FINISHED THE last of the dinner dishes while Terror finished the last of the table scraps.
“Starting tomorrow, you’re going to have to share that food stash,” Devon informed him.
Terror’s head came up, and he blinked, clearly irked by the announcement.
“Relax,” Devon said with a chuckle. “You won’t mind your dinner partner. It’s your pal Scamp. He’s coming to stay with us, just until his mom gets home. Imagine the possibilities. By day, you can romp around together and drive everyone at doggie day care nuts. And by night, you can team up and destroy this place, leaving a trail of laundry in your wake. It’s a veritable dream come true.”
Terror barked his agreement. Then, prompted by the word laundry, he tore off in search of a discarded sock.
He’d have plenty of those to choose from, Devon mused. Especially now, with Lane and Meredith both staying over—and not just for a day or two, but for a week, maybe longer, depending on how quickly the Pierson case was solved. Lane had already made his requisite phone calls and rearranged his work schedule. And Meredith had e-mailed her professors, explaining the situation and asking if she could deliver her homework assignments electronically.
The extended-stay scenario was imperative, partly because they all needed to be together for emotional support, and partly to keep up appearances. Their family had to come off as worried sick, glued to the phone for any word from the police. Supposedly, they had no idea where Sally was and if they would ever see her again. As a result, they’d be too paralyzed to return to their day-to-day lives.
Devon had done her part by calling Dr. Joel Sedwell, the founder and senior partner of Creature Comforts & Clinic, and arranged for superflexible hours until this family crisis was over. And Monty had put his entire caseload on the back burner.
In private, the Montgomerys were relieved as hell. They’d all spoken to Sally, heard her voice, and knew she was okay. Meredith had called three times before she was convinced her mother was safe, settled in at the Garners’ house, and on the mend. Rod had run Sally over to a local doctor, who’d treated her for a minor concussion and an irritated trachea. She was now well fed, tucked in a warm feather bed, and fast asleep.
