Page 59 of Hitched
“Caleb, your two o’clock is here.” Vivian, my assistant, announces to me over the phone.
“Let him in, please.”
This is the odd email I received last night, same as Laney, and we’re laying bets on the fact that he’s probably a gajillionaire, since he’s being very secretive about his identity, and if he’s like most wealthy people, he’ll want to pinch every cent. It’s odd how the wealthy are so insecure about money. I used to know an old rich man that hid his money in the crawlspace in his basement, he was so distrusting of people. I’m curious to see what this man’s story is. As he walks in, all dressed in his Sunday best, he sure looks the part. “Wesley Higgins.” He introduces himself as.
“Caleb Harris. Pleased to meet you.”
He has a distinct British accent, and he appears to be in his forties, if I were to guess. After we shake hands, he pulls his pant legs up slightly at the upper thigh, before sitting in the proffered chair in front of my desk.
“What can I help you with today, sir? Are you looking to invest your money with us?”
He smiles. “One might think that, wouldn’t you. I suppose that’s a fair assumption.”
I'm confused. I tilt my head. “I understand that you reached out to Laney McAdams as well, so I assumed you were shopping in the top two investment companies for your money. If that isn’t it, then what brings you here, sir.”
“Please call me Wes. Everyone does.”
“Fair enough. What can I do for you, Wes.” I ask, thinking that this is a game. It wouldn’t be the first time a rich dude walked into my office to test me first, before giving me his money.
He lifts his hands, as if he’s going to tell me a story, so I wait. “This is going to sound utterly bizarre, I realize, but if you’ll just hear me out until the end, it would be in the best interest of your time.”
I nod once, frowning, playing along. “Certainly. Go ahead.” I brace myself for his life story, and it’s likely a doozy. I can’t place his face anywhere in the media, so he isn’t a well-known man, as I'm pretty good at keeping my finger on the pulse of the wealthy. But it is possible that he owns some obscure, off-shore billion-dollar start-up that I'm unaware of.
“I’ll start off by saying that I'm terribly sorry for your loss.”
“My...loss.” I repeat, wondering what he’s talking about.
“Yes. Gretchen Newfield.”
I blink. “You...you knew Gretchen?”
He nods once. “Yes. It’s been some time since I've seen her, I'll admit. But I did know her.” He licks his lips as my intrigue builds. “I’m Peg’s father.”
My eyes widen. I feel my back up and my stomach immediately drop. “That’s impossible. Gretchen told me that Peg’s father is dead. And that Peg was conceived in a...less than honorable way.”
“Really.” He seems intrigued but he’s not refuting. I have half a mind to call the police, but I want to know why he’s here first.
My voice is flat. “What do you want.”
His chuckle makes my skin crawl. “Caleb, I'm sure Gretchen told you enough stories to make your head spin, but I assure you, I have nothing but good intentions here.”
“I’m not sure I believe you, Mr. Higgins. Gretchen made it a point to steer clear of anyone from her past, and I'm sure that she had her reasons for telling me what she did about how Peg was conceived. She loved that child more than anything, as do I, and there is nothing that I won’t do to protect her.”
“Take it easy, Caleb.” He lifts a hand. “I just want to see her.”
“I don’t think so. I am her da now, and I have no intentions of upsetting her further. The bairn has been through enough. I’m sure you would agree if you do, in fact, have her best interests at heart. And you’ve wasted your time reaching out to me and to my fiancé, so I’ll thank you for leaving us alone, Mr. Higgins.” I start kicking myself for not digging more into Gretchen’s life, to ensure that this deadbeat was, in fact, dead. I pay a lot of people a tidy sum to spy and to find out information on people. In light of me not wanting my da to find out that I was helping Gretchen and Peg, that’s probably why I never pursued her past any further.
In hindsight, while I was trying to protect Gretchen and Peg, I was clearly also shooting myself in the foot.
“You don’t believe that I’m her father.” Wes says. “I was afraid of that.”
“Whether you are her da or not, Mr. Higgins, I do not wish to cause any undue stress on the bairn. Any da would be present in some form or another. And like I said, Gretchen told me you were dead.” I don’t give him any further information. My head is screaming at me to get on the phone with Laney to warn her, and to get my guys on the task ASAP, to figure out what this dipshit’s story is about. “I’ll thank you for leaving the premises right away, Mr. Higgins. And don’t come back.”
His phone beeps in his pocket. He pulls it out, not reacting at all to my request. As he looks at it briefly, he punches something into it, and then he looks up at me. “It’s a real shame you feel that way, Caleb. But I’ll respect your wishes.” He rises with me. He nods in lieu of a handshake, and walks out, as naturally as if our conversation was about the fucking stock market. I wait until he’s out of earshot and I look at Vivian. Her glance is questioning.
“That was a quick meeting.” Vivian comments.
I ignore her comment. “Do not give Mr. Higgins any more of my time, Vivian. Block his correspondence. And alert me if he ever reaches out again.”
Vivian nods. “Absolutely.”
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made such a request. I make a call to one of my men and give him the details of this Wesley Higgins, so that they can start the process. I’m on the phone with him when Laney beeps in, so I place him on hold for a moment and take her call. Laney is in hysterics on the line. Her voice is shaky and she’s almost screaming. All I understand out of her are three words.
…”Peg is gone.”
