Page 55 of After Midnight

“I’m your Daddy Patrick’s first cousin, through our mothers. When my parents divorced, Mom and I moved in with your grandparents and stayed. So, your dad and I grew up more like brothers than cousins, and even came out of the closet at the same time. Anyway, he became a dignified businessman, and I became a flamboyant drag queen from hell.” He chuckled as he flipped one of the albums open, showing me pictures of my father and him as kids.

I remembered seeing a few old family photos here and there growing up, but nothing as extensive as this. I leafed through page after page packed with labeled pictures of long departed relatives I’d never get to meet. I wasn’t able to stop the tears that fell as I studied the candid snapshots chronicling my dad’searly life. He looked so healthy, so joyful and full of life, that I felt a pang of hurt thinking about the cascade of loss our family suffered with his passing. I also resolved to help Olivia and Alli make as many happy childhood memories of their own as we could, starting now.

“I recognize a lot of these names from stories my dad told me about growing up. I wish I could’ve known them,” I said, wiping my eyes with my shirtsleeve. “I know it’s only pictures, but having faces to go with the names, it feels like I’ve been given a huge part of my family back.”

Mr. Galbraith nodded and remained silent, clearly fighting his own tears, and reached into his glorified Mary Poppins bag for some tissue and handed me one. I gave him a watery smile when I reached the end of the album and saw an old picture of my godparent decked out in a shimmering slinky dress, vampy eye makeup, and a huge white wig very much like RuPaul often wears.

“Looks like maybe Fairy Demadre was still coming into her own when this was taken,” I teased. “I still don’t remember you from when I was a kid, though. I’m sorry.”

“Oh Lord, you wouldn’t, child. I was off building my career, traipsing around the world being famous, or infamous, to be more precise. I had the legs of RuPaul and the voice of Harvey Fierstein. For some reason, Europeans just loved the contradiction of my female persona and deep male voice.” He chuckled softly to himself before his expression turned somber.

“Thank you for sharing the photo album with me. It’s okay if you don’t feel ready to talk about everything that happened,” I said, trying to give him an out if he needed it. “I understand how painful it can be to revisit the past, even in remembering the happier times.”

He gave me a small smile then, and fished another tissue out of his purse. “Thank you, Dominic, but you need to hear thisbecause it’s your story as well as mine. I only met you once or twice before your daddy got sick. Then after he was diagnosed, I made a handful of quick trips back to the States to encourage him through chemo, but you were so distraught, I don’t think you even knew I was there. When Patrick died, I was so deep in filming, I couldn’t get away. By the time I’d fulfilled all of my job commitments, I’d missed your daddy’s funeral, your papa Eric had passed, and you kids had vanished.”

His voice wavered and he used the tissue to dab at his eyes, which glistened with unshed tears. But he also looked determined to get it all out. He took a steadying breath before continuing.

“Eric must’ve felt so distraught and alone after Patrick died. In retrospect, it makes sense he went home to be with his parents in Colorado Springs. He needed any support he could find, and I regret not being there like I should’ve been for him or you kids. I was still in France at the time and let my career come before my family. At some point, it just became easier to stay away. It was only after I contacted Eric’s parents, asking about his whereabouts, did I learn he’d committed suicide. Your grandparents told me you three kids were with other relatives but wouldn’t give me any details, then they cut off all further communication.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before reaching over and taking my hand. “Dominic, I screwed up. I realize now that in grieving for Patrick, I closed myself off and immersed myself in work to cope. It was selfish and short-sighted and cost me years with you kids, and maybe I could’ve even helped Eric. But I can’t go back and change that. I can only try to do better now for the three of you.”

Mr. Galbraith released my hand and shook his head, seemingly at himself. “It’s my fault as much as anyone’s that you and your sisters were caught in this web. After that phone call with your grandparents, I immediately filed a petition withthe Colorado courts to get custody of you, but by then, you all had disappeared. I learned about your papa Eric marrying some social climber through a local private investigator, but your grandparents effectively stonewalled their efforts. So, the investigation into her and your whereabouts quickly dead-ended. Then I flew home to Chicago, and with my mother’s help, we began a full-fledged investigation.”

He paused for breath. It seemed telling me his version of one of the most difficult periods in both our lives was both painful and cathartic for him. “After an entire year had passed, your dad’s parents contacted me again and said they’d lost contact with you as well. My team of private investigators eventually pieced together that your stepmother had many aliases, and only formally changed her name to Margarette Shipley after marrying your father, which made tracing her all the more challenging. She also maneuvered to change the names of your and the girls’ trust funds, so even attempting to trace those led nowhere. Your grandparents had been honest in saying they couldn’t find you, though. Margarette had frozen them out, too. None of us knew your stepmother had continued using Mr. Langdon, or we’d have been able to find you that way. Regardless, you know the rest. Only by chance, or maybe fate, was I at Ashton’s house when you showed up out of the blue. He’d only said a close friend of his desperately needed some fashion help, and I recognized you the minute you stepped through the door. After you left, Ashton filled me in on what was happening, and I called my attorney. We immediately filed to be parties to the family court case against you.”

Mr. Galbraith sat back then and watched me. I’d managed to hold myself together for the most part during his story, but now he'd laid it all out there, the dam broke and my tears flowed.

It was amazing to hear how he’d outwitted Margarette, but also sad. Having irrefutable proof of how that scheming womanhad nearly destroyed what remained of my family made me feel like I’d lost my fathers all over again. “I’ve always known she was an evil person and my papa had made a colossal mistake in marrying her. I should’ve known every single thing about her was a lie.”

He gave me a tight smile and patted my hand. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop that horse from leaving the barn. You were a teenager, and I’m guessing devastated after losing one father. It was Eric’s choice to marry her, one I have no doubt he would’ve rectified had he lived. After that, well, you had double the grief to contend with and two little girls to care for.”

I nodded. Blaming myself or anyone other than Margarette for what happened was pointless, but that didn’t wash away years of feeling guilty. “So, what now?”

“First and foremost, we work with Mr. Langdon and Mr. Fresco to clear your name and expose Margarette as a fraud. Then we… hold on, let me get Mr. Langdon for this next part.”

He glided out of the room like an elegant dancer, and returned with my attorney on his arm.

Mr. Langdon took a seat as Mr. Galbraith plopped back in the one he’d vacated a moment earlier and dove into the story.

“Margarette Shipley, as you know her, is not Margarette Shipley. In fact, none of us know who she really is. My private investigators have uncovered three aliases, including the one she used when she met your father and tricked him into marrying her. She was Martha Stenson then. Before that, she was Eliza Thompson. I suspect that’s only the tip of the iceberg, though.”

“A rose by any other name is just as thorny,” Mr. Langdon mused.

“Indeed,” Mr. Galbraith said, shaking his head. “She’s wanted for questioning in three states surrounding the mysterious deaths of the men she married. Dominic, that includes yourfather. The Colorado Springs Police have reopened the case of Eric’s suicide, now they know she’s involved.”

I could feel both men’s eyes on me as I stared at the conference room table, absorbing that news.

“They think she killed him?”

He nodded. “It sure looks that way.”

A sob tore through my throat as I ugly cried, tears streaming. I’d always suspected my stepmother was somehow involved in Papa Eric’s death, but knowing the police believed it now, too, came as a shock. My father had been distraught after losing Daddy Patrick, I remembered that clearly, but I’d never thought he was suicidal. Sure, it hadn’t helped that my grandparents were awful people pushing and prodding him daily to remarry a woman. They basically shoved Margarette in his face and gave him an ultimatum to marry her or be disowned from what little family and support he had left.

“In the back of my mind, I always knew my papa wouldn’t have left us like that but I could never prove it,” I said after taking some deep breaths. “Does this affect my case at all?”

“Maybe,” Mr. Langdon said. “But remember, we’re in front of the appellate court now. They won’t hear new evidence, however, if they rule in her favor, they will be undoing over a century of case law that protects those who have trusts. It’s not likely you’ll lose on that side of things. Your sisters also do not have any claims to your trust, despite the roundabout way Margarette has pushed for that as their guardian. Basically, the lower court ruled that weaseling yourself into someone’s life makes you entitled to their children’s money. That isn’t and has never been the rule of law.”

“What about Margarette then?” I asked. “Will all this finally put an end to her scheming?”

Mr. Langdon smiled over at Mr. Galbraith, and they both turned their smiles on me. “Well, I’m guessing she’s already hada visit from the FBI. If she’s smart, she’s already lawyered up, and with someone other than Mr. Clifford. But if history is any indication, she’s on the run and probably halfway to Mexico City by now.”

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