Chapter 33
Caroline was humming away as she prepared dinner for her and J.T.
When she’d suggested it—saying it wouldn’t be anything fancy, only taco salad—he’d eagerly accepted her invitation. Today in Lucy’s office, she’d felt cherished. She’d felt heard. And J.T. had confirmed that he was as scared of losing her as she was of losing him. Outside forces were pulling them apart, and she didn’t like that one bit, but Cynthia would only succeed if they let her.
Fortunately, Clara was cooperating regarding the lost Rembrandt. Well, mostly. She had strong opinions about what she planned to tell the media. J.T. had made some suggestions, but she’d remained firm. Honesty was the best policy, she’d said, and she’d kept the supposed Rembrandt under wraps to protect it from her husband. If his family didn’t like that, Clara had said, they could put it where the sun didn’t shine.
God, that woman had spunk.
When she heard a knock on the door, she untied her apron and hung it over a kitchen chair. Adjusting her skirt and blouse, she walked swiftly to the door and opened it. Trevor stood on the other side, his expression grim.
“Oh, hello,” she said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “If you’re looking for J.T., he’s not here yet.”
“I know,” he said. “I tracked his phone. He drove to Aspen to buy you all twenty-four flavors of Paradise Bakery’s famous gelato for dinner.”
One of her sisters must have told him Cappuccino Toffee Crunch was her favorite. Ah…
“You haven’t checked your phone, have you?”
Tension filled her. That look. Something had happened. “No, I turned the ringer off when I started dinner. It’s been a day. People have been calling nonstop about the Rembrandt, and I’m ignoring them like J.T. suggested.”
She didn’t like that approach, but he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like they could give out more details about the Rembrandt in advance of the press conference.
“Has something happened?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said gravely. “Uncle Arthur appears to have had a heart attack.”
She gripped his jacket. “What?”
He took her arm and led her inside, closing the door. “Meredith called me from the hospital.”
“Oh, God, not this!” she said, rushing to where she’d left her phone. “They called me, and I missed it.”
She noted the calls and texts from various family members and felt tears gather in her eyes. One in particular from Andy caught her eye. Come quickly. He’s not well.
Andy was a doctor. This was terrible news. She had to get moving.
“How could this have happened? That man is invincible.” To her, he always had been—no matter how old he’d become.
Trevor came and put his arms around her. “Look, I know you’re upset, but we have a serious situation on our hands in addition to that wonderful man being in the hospital.”
What could be more important than that? “I need to go to the hospital,” she said, pushing away from him. “Have you reached J.T.?”
“No, I told Meredith to instruct everyone not to call him,” Trevor said.
“Why would you do that?” she asked, staring at him in confusion. “J.T. would want to be there.”
He sliced his hand through the air. “Don’t you think I know that? Listen, I talked to Aunt Clara. She was with him when he had the attack.”
Her heart started to pound in her ears. “What did she say?”
“From what she could hear, he got a call from his banker. It seems that someone in the front office decided to call in his loan. Caroline, he has thirty days to pay three million dollars.”
Oh, no. It couldn’t be. “You don’t think it’s Cynthia?” Surely the woman wouldn’t stoop this low.
He cursed under his breath. “Remember what J.T. told you about Cynthia and her father switching banks? It didn’t feel right.”
She nodded, feeling short of breath.
“It’s the same bank,” he continued. “Carlyle’s. And they’re going down for this. Hard.”
She watched him in shock as Trevor pressed the bridge of his nose. That woman had intentionally gone after a wonderful old man. How could she?
“There’s more… Uncle Arthur mentioned in passing that the paper lost its biggest advertiser, and when I heard about his heart attack, I realized it happened the day after the Op-Ed was published. I looked up the company before I came here, and the president is close friends with Cynthia’s father.”
This couldn’t be happening. “I can’t believe it.”
“I want to kick myself for not putting it together earlier, but now it doesn’t matter. The damage is done. You know what this means, right?” he asked her, dropping his hand.
“Cynthia’s going to pay for this—like you said,” she said, heat raging through her system. “She went too far.”
Trevor walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, she’s going to pay, but I need your help.”
“Do you need me to drive the getaway car?”
His laugh was harsh. “No, I need you to help me with J.T.”
Suddenly, it all crashed into place in her mind. Fresh horror flooded her. “He’s going to blame himself for this.”
“Yes,” Trevor said, “and I’m not sure he can come back from this one.”
Neither was she.