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; “I think it sounds like I’m very lucky,” she said.
He chuckled. “That you are. We’ll make an appointment to meet as soon as possible, but first things first. I’ve made arrangements to make your funds available to you immediately. Here’s what we’re going to do...”
* * *
The next morning Deidre sat with Marc, Mari and Riley at their dining room table eating breakfast. Riley wore a pretty red and white velvet dress for Christmas Eve, but Mari had covered her in so many bibs while she ate that the little girl looked like an adorable patchwork quilt.
“There’s nothing in the papers yet mentioning you specifically,” Marc said, finishing his perusal of the morning edition. “But there’s a small blurb in the business section suggesting that changes are afoot at DuBois Enterprises following Lincoln’s death. Apparently a big announcement is about to be made.”
“Abel Warren told me yesterday that Nick has scheduled a press conference for the day after Christmas,” Deidre said. “He’ll make an official announcement in Harbor Town about Lincoln’s will.” She noticed her brother giving Mari a significant glance. “I know what you’re probably thinking,” Deidre said quietly, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Marc asked, his mouth quirked into a grin.
“That Nick certainly is acting very cooperatively for someone who was lying and planning to take me to court.”
Riley waved a candy-cane-shaped plush toy and shouted in the ensuing silence.
“He’s behaving much more civilly than I would have thought when this whole thing started,” Marc admitted neutrally.
She’d told her brother last night about her romantic liaison with Nick, although with not as much detail as she’d given Mari. Deidre could almost cut a knife through her brother’s concern when she’d admitted to having an affair with Nick Malone. She suspected he was also disappointed in her lapse in judgment, and that’s what really pained her.
“Well, I’ll need to get into Orchestra Hall soon,” Mari said, checking the clock on the wall. “Do you plan on doing anything before the concert, Deidre?”
“I was considering shopping for a dress. I don’t have anything to wear to the concert.”
“You can always borrow one of my dresses, but I think it’s a terrific idea for you to go shopping,” Mari told her with a significant glance. “Breaking in those debit cards Mr. Warren had sent to you this morning will start to get you used to the idea that you have practically unlimited funds at your disposal. You’ve got to get used to being rich at some point,” Mari said when Deidre gave her a dry glance.
“I wasn’t going to use any of the cards,” she said, referring to Abel’s temporary solution to giving her access to her funds. “I have my own money.”
“Lincoln DuBois’s money is your money,” Marc said so sharply that she glanced at her brother in surprise. He raised his eyebrows in a quiet challenge. “You’re his daughter, Deidre. He wanted you to enjoy the benefits of his wealth. From what you told me, he would have wanted that more than anything. I agree with Mari. The sooner you start to get used to the fact that you’re wealthy—that you’re Lincoln DuBois’s daughter—the sooner you’ll start to internalize the change in your circumstances. Forgive me for saying so, but it’s an insult to Lincoln’s wishes for you to continue to deny his gift to you.”
Deidre looked away. She suddenly had an overwhelming wish that Nick was there to reassure her with his solemn, gray-eyed gaze.
* * *
Mari had recommended a designer boutique on Oak Street that Deidre couldn’t help but feel was way out of her league. Deidre demurred when the salesclerk showed her a stunning crimson, raw silk dress, but then she’d agreed to try it on, and the gown had sold itself. Its neckline showed off her neck, shoulders and a tasteful amount of chest to good effect and the faux ermine accents around the arm cuff gave it a Yuletide air. She hadn’t entirely believed the salesclerk when she’d told her breathlessly that Deidre looked like a Christmas princess, but Deidre couldn’t help but feel like one as she stared at herself in the dressing-room mirror.
She’d never purchased a dress as expensive as this one. Slowly she pulled out one of the new cards Abel Warren had sent and stared at it for a few seconds.
“No, wait,” Deidre said tensely when the salesclerk reached to take the debit card.
Her hand wavered. It seemed wrong somehow, that a debit card should symbolize Lincoln. You meant more to me than this, she thought desperately. I’ll never be able to tell you how much more.
Almost immediately, she imagined Lincoln replying to her in his matter-of-fact tone.
Well, of course I know. You meant more to me than anything money could ever buy. But the money is my legacy to you. Besides, you wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of buying my daughter a Christmas dress, would you?
The salesclerk looked at her like she was a tad “off” when Deidre suddenly gave a bark of laughter and smiled. She handed the woman the debit card.
Thank you, she thought to herself fervently, and Merry Christmas, Lincoln.
* * *
Marc wolf-whistled when she joined him downstairs that afternoon wearing her new dress.
“Who’d have guessed there was a goddess hiding under your army fatigues,” he joked.
