Page 91 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“From what I was told, he didn’t stay in touch,” I reply.

Dolores raises an eyebrow, a bitter smile testing her lips. “You were lied to. Everyone was. Michael did stay in touch. Or tried, anyway. Every week, he’d send Callie a letter. I picked one up from the mailbox one time and tried to give it to her, but her mother intercepted it. From that point on, she intercepted everything. She didn’t want Callie to think that her father actually cared about her. I couldn’t do much about it because I needed that job. I needed the money. Their personal issues were theirs, not mine.”

“I completely understand.”

“Callie grew up thinking that Michael left and forgot about her,” she says. “But I managed to steal some of those letters. I kept them.”

“Letters from Michael?”

“Yes.”

“Addressed to Callie.”

“Yes.” She takes a stack out of her purse. I count six envelopes neatly tied with twine. I can tell from the yellow tint of the paper that this is old mail, decades old. She hands them over to me, and I take a minute to examine each letter. “I was saving them for Callie, but I never got around to giving them to her. As she grew older, she became more and more insufferable. Shedid a lot of nasty stuff to me, to my children, my grandchildren. Working for the Monroes damn near destroyed my family.”

She goes on to tell me about the numerous instances of bullying and sabotage. Callie’s mother couldn’t stand to see her daughter falling behind children from lesser families, and Dolores’s grandkids were particularly gifted.

“I tried working for other families, but none of them kept me. As soon as Katherine heard that I’d started somewhere else, she’d get on the phone and make sure I was let go before the week’s end.”

“Why, though? What did Katherine have against you?”

“I kept pressuring her to tell Callie the truth. Hell, I tried to tell Callie the truth once, but the girl wouldn’t believe me. She couldn’t believe that her own mother and grandmother would manipulate her into thinking that Michael had simply stopped caring about her even after news of his death reached Chappaqua. For what it’s worth, I tried to set the record straight, but the Monroes were all too comfortable demonizing the man for choosing freedom and happiness.”

As I read through the letters, I recognized the words of a man who loved his daughter deeply. In one of them, he mentions Dakota, telling Callie about her and saying that one day, he hoped the two might actually meet. At the time, he was working toward a reconciliation of sorts, but Katherine kept him away.

“The man tried,” I conclude, agreeing with Dolores. “I suppose Katherine and those loyal to her went to great lengths to stop him from ever reaching out to Callie directly.”

“He tried, though. I believe he tried until the day he died,” she says. “But you can’t really fight against the Monroe moneyand influence. Let’s not forget that when Michael left, he was penniless. Katherine cut him off completely.”

I nod, remembering parts of Dakota’s story. “Right. He came to San Francisco and started anew. He didn’t do bad for himself—”

“But he didn’t have the Monroe power behind him, either.”

“I think he deliberately kept a low profile.”

Dolores shrugs. “Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore. Callie grew up to be a frustrated and bitter woman, much like her grandmother and her mother. There was no reasoning with her; she was just as spiteful. All those years I spent by her side, helping those witches raise her, it counted for nothing in the end.”

“I dare to disagree, Dolores. It’s not too late for Callie to learn the truth. It might not necessarily change her as a person, but it might stop her from hurting other people simply because she was wounded by the absence of her father’s truth,” I reply.

“Do what you want with what I gave you,” the woman says. “I’m at peace with myself. It’s Callie’s problem; it’s the Monroes’ problem. My family and I have suffered enough because of them.”

Sliding an envelope full of cash across the table, I bid her farewell, then settle the bill and head out, eager to speak to my brothers about everything I’ve just learned.

Soon enough, we will find our way back to Dakota. Maybe it won’t be the same as it used to be, maybe it will be better. One thing it’s not going to be is yet another Monroe family clusterfuck. There have been enough of those to last a few generations, all because Katherine was too proud and pigheadedto allow her son to be his truest and happiest self.

Armed with all this new information, I confer with Archer and Maddox over the phone. It’s killing us to be away from Dakota at this difficult time, but what we’re doing should fix the dent that Callie and Keith caused in our relationship and avert at least part of the disaster that’s headed toward Dakota.

After a few more rounds with elderly locals in two of Chappaqua’s established pubs, I get a clearer picture of who Michael was, what he was like, and what he had to deal with as a man, a father, and a Monroe. Everyone said the same thing, albeit in a hushed tone, since the Monroe companies still control a good chunk of the entire state’s financial and industrial sector. Katherine was a stone-cold bitch who wanted to keep everybody in line and under her rule.

Anybody who stepped out of line got punished for it. Blood ties or not, the consequences were the same. Ultimately, all it got her was a miserable, lonely death, two granddaughters at odds with each other, and a sea of resentment left behind. It’s a lesson for my brothers and me to learn from, as well as a reminder that money and power do not make the man.

“Reed Faulkner,” I tell the hostess as I walk into the Golden Pearl, a Michelin-starred restaurant overlooking the River Walk Park in Sleepy Hollow. There’s a charity dinner happening here tonight, hosted by the Monroe Foundation.

“Ah, yes, welcome, Mr. Faulkner,” the hostess replies with a sparkling smile, then has one of the waiters escort me to my table.

It’s a fancy affair, but with my tux and fresh fade, I blend right in. I may not come from New York money, but I carry myself withequal strength and confidence as I walk among the uppity crowd that’s filling the restaurant tonight.

I’m on a mission.

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