Chapter TWENTY TWO
Damon
“So, what did she say,” Tabitha asked, all smiles and wide-eyed.
“Nothin’. She won’t talk to me. I blew it that day in the hospital, and she’ll never forgive me. Hell, I’d never forgive me the way I talked to her.”
“Did you try apologizing?”
I turned on the bar stool and stared at my sister hard. “She hates me, Tabby. She fucking hates my guts! Don’t you get that?”
Tabitha reached around me on the bar stool, and rubbed the tight muscles in my back. “She doesn’t hate you. Don’t you know anything about women?”
“No. Wanna enlighten me?”
“I’m just saying, there’s a fine line between love and hate.”
“Well, seems I’ve crossed that line.”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Hey, did you catch that Jake character on the news?”
“You mean, the father?”
“Stepfather.”
“Yeah, what a slug.” My hands formed into fists. “If I’d only known, I would have decked that guy for all that crap he put Liz through as a kid.”
Tabitha scowled. “Yeah, just the thought of him makes my skin crawl. He acted more like a lover than a father figure. Kinda creepy actually.”
“Shit. You’re right. I should have seen that right off, but all I could think about was how manipulative I thought they were. Talk about way off base.” My muscles started loosening under my sister’s magic fingers. “Mmmm, that’s good. Right there. What the hell’s wrong with me Tabby? Why didn’t I see the truth?”
“You weren’t ready. It wasn’t your fault. How were any of us to know she was telling the truth? Only time told us that.”
My sister was right. Elizabeth owned the Delaney Club now, but that was as far as it seemed to go. I had free reign to do whatever I wanted with it. At first, I tried contacting her for all our board meetings, but she’d always decline. Then I tried to bring her up to speed with the renovations, which somehow my grandmother had worked into the contract. As part of our team, I sent Liz photos of various stages in the Club’s development, and like any good mannered woman she complimented my work, but something was always off. Something inside her comments seemed forced. Clipped. Like she’d rather I’d not keep in touch, not include her in the emails. Maybe it reminded her of her sleazy stepfather in all this. Or maybe she was embarrassed about how it all went down. For awhile, I followed that feeling, gave her the space she seemed to want. Then one day, something made me change. I changed.
When I saw the painting.
Along with a note from my grandmother that I didn’t actually need to marry anyone but she hoped I would. And the identity of the mystery woman?
The painting made that crystal clear.
After about fifteen minutes of sitting at the bar, our seaweed and salmon sandwiches arrived and I immediately ate my pickle. Liz loved pickles.
“So what now?” Tabitha said before biting into a very greasy burger. Thick bubbling fat oozing down the side of her face. I cringed, thinking about her arteries
I couldn’t help it. I had to say something.“You do know that some part of that will stay in your colon for up to two weeks don’t you?”
“Oh fiddle faddle. Don’t be lecturing me on what I eat.”
“Hey, just saying.”
“Noted, big brother. Now, tell me what you plan on doing about Elizabeth.”
“How the hell do I know? She won’t talk to me. I can’t make her talk to me. I’m not a magician.” I took another bite of my sandwich, letting the words marinate my brain.
“Can’t you? Seems to me you were quite upset when you found grandmother’s painting? Why was that anyway? Something about her sending you a sign, but I still don’t get it.”
I looked at her for a long time, saying nothing, and then grinned when I saw Tabby’s knowing smile. Of course, she knew. She just wanted me to say it out loud.
Raising a finger, Tabitha signaled for the waiter, who came right over. “Can I have another Coke?”
“Absolutely. Anything else?”
“No. That will be all.” She turned to me with sad eyes. “Damon, I get that the painting made you sad. I made me sad too. It was just another one of her many eccentric secrets that always drove us crazy. Who knew she was still painting at her age. And she didn’t share it. I get that.”
I continued chewing my sandwich then dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “Tabby, what day is it?”
She looked down at her watch. “Oh! It’s almost New Years. Has it been… ?”
“Yup. Six months since grandmother’s death and she said she would leave me a sign about who I should marry. That painting wasn’t painted by our grandmother. It was painted by Liz, Tabby.”
Tabitha almost dropped her Coke. Her mouth dropped open. Then she leaned back in her chair, grinning. “I knew it!”
“You did?”
“Not that she painted our grandmother, but I had a feeling Liz was the one she picked for you, and now you’ve confirmed it.”
“Stop smiling like that. I still don’t know how to make her talk to me. Or….or…even marry me for god’s sake.”
“Good lord, brother! Do I have to do everything for you?”