Up Close and Personal. Fern Michaels
would never have accused Rifkin of being the father, since even Harold’s child had only a one-in-four chance of being a compatible donor. And as Trinity grew, it became obvious she was Harold’s daughter.
“Sarabess had the baby’s bone marrow stored the minute Trinity was born, then Emily went through chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Sarabess spent money on the best heme/oncologists in the country. I looked into the procedure, and it’s relatively simple. A transfusion done by a transplant team. The baby, Trinity, was brought back here and given to the Hendersons to raise. Those of us who knew that Sarabess had been pregnant never said a word. We certainly did not want Trinity to be raised by someone like Sarabess, who devoted every waking moment to Emily. She had no time for little Trinity, who had been born only so Emily could live. She didn’t even exist as far as Sarabess was concerned and was better off away from that house.
“That little girl deserved to be loved, and I’m sure the Hendersons did their best, but they were hired hands. They would dude Trinity up in fine clothes and Mary Jane slippers and take her up to the Hill for holidays. Then they’d take her back to the farm when Emily got cranky and the party was over. Trinity was everything Emily wasn’t. She was healthy, happy, always laughing and smiling. The children all liked her. God only knows what that child thought when she was forced to go up to the Hill. That’s when I stepped in, and Lillian and I covered for each other where Trinny was concerned. There, now you know. What are you going to do about it, Jake?”
Jake was so stunned he could barely get his tongue to work. “How long did Emily live after the procedure?” he asked in a choked voice.
“Thirteen very long years. I think Trinity somehow found out, and that’s why she ran away. That’s strictly my opinion, Jake.”
“How did you find out about Sarabess’s pregnancy?”
“You don’t need to know that, Jake.”
“Yeah, Mitzi, I do need to know.”
“Harold told me. Harold and I had been…friends…for a long time. Before he ever married Sarabess. He came out here the day before Sarabess was due to return from New York. He needed to talk to someone, and that someone turned out to be me. He told me everything but swore me to secrecy. I’ve kept that secret for the most part. I did share it with your mother because I knew she’d never tell anyone, and I didn’t want her continuing to think her husband had done something he hadn’t done. As much as I don’t like your father, I could not allow your mother to torture herself over it. Harold was a regular visitor here after Sarabess returned. I doubt she even missed him. Now you know.”
“Yes, now I know.”
Chapter 7
Mitzi Granger stared at her inebriated nephew for a full five minutes before she made the decision to load him into her SUV. It wasn’t easy with Annabelle and Jezebel getting in the way. She knew, just the way she knew everything, that Jake would be mortified to wake up at her place with a king-size hangover. He was like a Gumby figure as she pushed and shoved to get him into the backseat, where he went limp. Annabelle leaped over him as Jezebel swooped through the open door. “Jake’s sick, Jake’s sick!” the parrot squawked.
“Jezebel, get your feathered ass out of this truck right now. Jake’s not sick, he’s drunk. Get your facts straight, Jezzie.”
“Jake’s drunk, Jake’s drunk!” the parrot continued to squawk as Solomon, the golden retriever, hopped into the truck and settled on Jake’s chest. Annabelle, who was no bigger than Solomon, settled herself next to the golden dog and started to make funny noises. At least Jake thought they were funny. He started to laugh and couldn’t stop.
“Okay, everybody out!” Mitzi shouted. The animals ignored her. Jake continued to laugh. Mitzi grinned as she slipped behind the wheel in her bare feet. “Well, this will certainly give the town something to chew on for a few days.”
“Where’re we going, Mitz?” Jake bellowed as he tried to sit upright.
“Over the rainbow!” Jezebel squawked.
“Is there a pot of gold there?” Jake demanded as he stared glassy-eyed at the colorful parrot. “Huh?”
“That response is not in Jezzie’s vocabulary, Jacob.”
Her eyes on the road, the cars, and the scenery, Mitzi put the pedal to the metal and drove like a maniac. She knew that none of the cops would pull her over because she was the one who paid for the Policeman’s Ball, the PBA carnival, donated heavily to whatever the department needed, and could always be counted on. What would Crestwood’s finest do?—they would escort her home with sirens wailing, hoping to embarrass her. That word wasn’t in her vocabulary. Twice she offered up a single-digit salute to sedans going a sedate seventy miles an hour. She was rewarded by the irate motorists with blasts of sound that she totally ignored. Not so Jezebel, who fluttered and cussed with gay abandonment.
“Here we are, darlin’! Safe and sound. Do I have to help you out? If I do, my other passengers are going to bolt. C’mon, c’mon, darlin’, shake it. I have things to do and places to go.”
Jake did his best to untangle himself as he literally slid out of the SUV. He landed with a loud thump on his rear end.
“Oh, oh!” Jezebel squawked.
“You okay, darlin’?”
“Hell no, I’m not okay,” Jake said, struggling to his feet. “I’ll live, though. Thanks for bringing me home, Mitzi.”
Mitzi waited until Jake climbed the steps, slipping and sliding, and opened the door. The minute the apartment door closed, Mitzi slammed the SUV into REVERSE and peeled out of the parking lot. “Hang on, boys and girls, we’re going for a ride.” The animals settled down immediately, even Jezebel, who perched on the dashboard, her wings fluttering at the high rate of speed and the breeze coming in the half-open window.
Mitzi swirled into the Hendersons’ driveway, gravel spurting in all directions. She was glad dusk was settling. She was almost certain Sarabess Windsor wouldn’t see her from the Hill. If she did, oh, well, that was the way the cookie crumbled sometimes.
Mitzi hopped out of the car, looked around, then marched, still in her bare feet, to the front door of the small house. She rapped sharply on the screen door. Lillian Henderson gasped when she saw who her visitor was.
Mitzi wasted no time in amenities. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about Trinity returning the money she borrowed? You better hope you still have that envelope, Lillian.”
Lillian held the screen door open and motioned for Mitzi to come in. “Come into the kitchen, Mitzi. John is down at the barn. We can talk. Can I get you anything to drink, and perhaps a piece of cake?”
“Just the envelope. After all I’ve done for you and Trinity, you owed me that at least,” Mitzi said.
Lillian wiped at her eyes with the hem of her apron. “I wanted to, Mitzi, I really did. John wouldn’t allow it. You know how he is…was back then. He told me to burn the envelope. I don’t know how I did it but I substituted another envelope. I guess I knew this day was going to come sooner or later. I didn’t want her to find Trinity. I figured, sooner or later, as I told John, Her Highness would want to find her. Especially with Emily passing and all. I just didn’t think it would take her so long to get around to it. Your nephew was here, and I told him about Trinity returning the money but I didn’t tell him I still had the envelope. I told him…because Trinity was so fond of him. What are you going to do, Mitzi?”
Mitzi looked down at her bare feet. “Would you look at that? I forgot my shoes. Where’s the envelope?”
Lillian walked over to one of the kitchen cabinets and opened it. She pulled out a battered old cookbook that was thicker than the New York telephone directory. “I wrapped it in tinfoil to protect it. The postmark isn’t legible, Mitzi.”
“Maybe not to the naked eye, but there are tests that can be done to bring the name to the surface. I