Page 81 of The Making of Marnie Jones

Mrs. Grant stood. “Well, Olivia will stay here, of course.” As if it was already determined.

“I can't—”

“Of course you can.”

“My father—” Marnie tried to protest.

Mrs. Grant scowled. “Your father may own this house, but I run it, and if I want someone to stay with me, someone will stay with me. Now that’s that.” She placed her hands on her hips defiantly and looked at Olivia. Where are your things?”

“At Uncle Jake's.” Olivia appeared ready to argue, but she also looked like the stuffing had been taken right out from her.

Do something. Anything.

“We need to buy several suitcase sets and send them over to…his condo.” She wasn’t capable of saying Jake’s name at that moment. She missed him and wanted to kick him at the same time. “Someone needs to go over there to pack Olivia's belongings.”

Mrs. Grant again shuffled papers in one of her drawers, pulling out a business card. “I know a professional organizer who’s very discreet. She comes highly recommended. Let me call her.” She scooped up the cordless phone and left the room.

“Marnie…”

“She's right, Olivia, we'll set you up here.” She was grasping at straws, desperate to assure the young woman that everything was going to be okay. “You said you wanted to finish high school, so we'll find you a tutor. We can sign you up for riding lessons—”

The crestfallen look on Olivia's face was like a cold shower. Even to her own ears, the words sounded hollow. All the luxuries in the world wouldn’t afford Olivia a normal life. Remembering her last year in this house, Marnie flashed back to the memory of the isolation. They couldn’t keep Olivia prisoner here, and then how long before she fell in with a dangerous crowd? People who didn't know who she was. People who didn’t care about her.

This is impossible.

Mrs. Grant reappeared. “Ms. Lee will be here shortly. You girls need to make a list of everything that needs doing. Olivia, if you can give me Jake's phone number, Ms. Lee can coordinate a meeting with him at the condo.” She pulled a pen and a pad of paper from her seemingly bottomless drawer. “Now let's plan.”

Olivia and Marnie gave themselves up to Mrs. Grant's capable hands.

***

Although Marnie was exhausted, sleep proved elusive that night.

Ever the efficient professional, Ms. Lee secured Olivia's belongings and Marnie's new purchases.

Marnie would’ve gladly walked away from them, but Jake insisted.

The suitcases arrived mid-afternoon.

Marnie bought a tablet computer for Olivia so she might email her uncle whenever she wanted. Given the circumstances, they installed a special encryption program to prevent further hacking. She also made arrangements for a cell phone as well. If they connected Olivia, she might feel less like a prisoner.

Mrs. Grant made a few discreet inquiries into securing a tutor for Olivia.

Since the young woman had only been in eighth grade when taken, she woefully lacked in education. Demeter Anton had not afforded her the luxury of books or other reading material.

Lester Ulster might’ve been a monster, but at least he gave Marnie a schooling of sorts.

Flipping onto her back, Marnie flung her arm over her eyes. Images of Jake played over and over in her mind. The situation had to be killing him, because he desired was what was best for his niece, and for the moment, that wasn’t him.

As she played back the conversation from the night before, she softened. What would she have done given the same circumstances? Sicced her father's lawyers on the bastards, that was for sure. Even if they couldn’t conceal Lydia's arrest record, there was no reason to reveal Olivia's medical records. They’d breached her privacy, and the hospital had launched a quiet internal investigation.

Olivia received an official apology, but that meant little, as her life had been splayed across the nightly newscast.

Lydia’d not been located, and no one had benefited from the whole debacle.

Even Phil had lost. His black eye, and firing over the hacking scandal, had been severe punishments. He was currently hiding out in the South Pacific, and had to chew on the fact he no longer had a job. The scandal’s resolution had been swift and quiet because the broadcaster hadn’t wanted a drawn-out process risking bad publicity. They’d paid Phil well, and he’d keep his silence, as he was the villain in the whole debacle.

He’d land on his feet. There were always tabloids willing to hire scum like him.

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