Page 32 of Unwanted Vows

Andrew gives a snort. “Better make them male nurses. I doubt the old toad will ever be too sick to fail to make a pass. Unless they are made of titanium, the ladies are unlikely to turn him down.”

“He’s ugly and mean,” I say. “Easy to turn down. Five days driving, and a lost scholarship’s worth of turning down.”

Andrew studies me for a minute. “I am so sorry, Madeline. I’ve hurt you in more ways than I knew.”

It made me angry for him to say it that way, but another part of me felt soothed. He understood what I gave up to protect our son. And he gave me the courtesy of not telling me he would make it up to me.

I could have transferred my credits and started over, but it would have been at the expense of giving Paul the best care possible in his first months of life.

Kate and her family had supported me through that time. I owe them more than I will ever be able to repay. Now, she and Charles are still supporting me, helping me through this latest crisis.

“Madeline,” Andrew says, reaching out a hand toward me.

Whatever he was going to say was lost in the barking of guard dogs, and the sound of opening and closing car doors.

Andrew let his hand drop, and a stony mask fell over his face.

“Showtime,” he snarls. “He’s here.”

MEETING WITH GRANDFATHER AIMS

ANDREW

It should have been snowing, with wind wailing around the eaves, and wolves howling. Or at least there should have been a dust storm with tumbleweeds hurtling by.

Instead, Ark-Ark and Grendel, two massive shaggy dogs, flank a guard in Moor Security uniform. A lovely sunset streaks the sky as our planet’s star disappears beyond the curve of the horizon.

A man in Aims Corp livery with the flaming crown on the points of his collar, opens the back door of the stretch limo parked in the drive. I didn’t envy the driver the contortions it was going to take to get that beast of a vehicle turned around and pointed out.

My mother’s father grips the attendant’s arm, and heaves himself out of the luxury car. He’s gained weight since I’ve last seen him, and he was never a small man. He wears a silk Armani suit with satin lapels over a black silk shirt. Instead of a necktie, he wears a jeweled bolo, shaped like the flaming crown Aims Corp logo. The metal is silver in color, but I’m betting that it is platinum, and the flames are picked out in brilliant red gems.

The suit fits perfectly without a misplaced wrinkle or inappropriate crease, even though he has been traveling for hours. He shrugs his shoulders to settle the jacket, and I catch a glimpse of suspenders, even though he wears a belt with a buckle that matches the bolo.

“Well, Andrew,” he booms, “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Nothing I cannot handle on my own,” I reply. “Come in and we will discuss what has brought you here to our small abode.”

The old man does not sneer at the house, just casts an appraising look at what little he can see in the growing dark. “Settling in with that chippie you diddled before you went to Africa? Maybe you’ll have better luck than I had getting the boy away from her.”

It was going to be like that, was it? I wanted to throttle the old fool for the insult to Madeline. “I have no intention of taking my son from his mother,” I say coldly, struggling to maintain civility. “If you’d had the courtesy to courier a message to me, I would have come home sooner. As it is, Ms. Northernfield has done a fine job rearing her son and taking care of both of them on her own.”

“If you’ll take my advice, you’ll be rid of her at the first opportunity,” Grandfather Aims growled.

“Memories of her warmed my bed many a lonely night,” I say. “I am amazed and grateful to learn that she is real, still unwed, and has not sent me packing for the way I left her. If your goal is to remove Paul from her care, you can get right back in your fancy car, drive back to the airport, and return to your spiderweb in New York. You are not needed here, Grandfather. We have agreed to speak with you as a courtesy.”

“I can see how it is,” Grandfather Aims sneers. “But you’ll be talking out of the other side of your mouth when you lose your medical license, your friends ditch you, and you are exposed for the traitor you are.”

What the heck? I’ve been called many things, but traitor wasn’t one of them. I lifted my eyebrows. “I am unaware that I am in danger of any of those things,” I say. “But if you humble yourself enough to come in, you can explain yourself.”

“Thank you,” he says, his voice crisp.

As he enters, Aims looks around the living room. It seems to shrink under his malevolent gaze. He glowers at the shabby couch, grass mat, and Ikea coffee table.

“We are setting up in the dining room,” I say. “Mrs. Quinn is providing dinner. She and her staff will be here shortly. Charles Emory will be here as a neutral party. He is bringing his physician with him. We also have a list of recommended specialists if you do not approve of his choice.”

“Is that Emory of Spindizzy Industries?” Aims asks, a spark of interest showing. “I’ve tried to connect with him several times, but he always turns me down. Altruistic young fool. That’s what happens when money marries down.”

“I’m not sure Charles sees Kate as ‘marrying down’,” I say, feeling a bit amused. “Rather, I think he sees it as marrying into one of the first families of Kansas.”

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