Page 72 of Our Lips Are Sealed
“I can get it,” Josie offered, proving to be the bravest of them still. “Just tell me where to lo—“
An unfamiliar noise tolled through the lower level, cutting off Josie’s words. Everyone left in the kitchen froze, confused by the sound. But then it chimed again for a second and third time, sending goosebumps up Simone’s arms.
It was the doorbell.
And no one ever rang the doorbell at Haven House.
CeCe smacked on her cereal, chewing loud enough to cause an earthquake. “What the heck was that?”
Simone snapped her fingers on the way out. “Watch your language, miss.”
Miranda and Josie followed, and the three of them went to the front door to peer through the narrow, frosted foyer window that framed the entrance.
On the porch was Trevor, standing with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his high dollar suit and the Fairweather sneer set firmly on his face.
“What in the hell is he doing here?” Miranda whispered, scurrying into the parlor to get a better look through the larger windows. “Charlie better not be with him.”
“Don’t answer it,” Josie urged. “If he wants Ben, he knows damn well where to find him. There’s no reason for him to be here, and he’s probably trying to start trouble.”
Simone thought Josie must be kidding. Trevor was the least threatening Fairweather ever to exist. Short, with pockmarked skin and a scrawny build, he was nothing like his brothers. The staff at Parkland Grounds had often whispered that the high and mighty Helen Fairweather must have strayed from her husband’s bed at some point, ending up with this pitiful excuse of a human as a parting gift for her indiscretion.
Never one to believe idle gossip, Simone always ignored it, able to see the truth clearer than the rest of them. Trevor was a Fairweather, through and through. The leftover parts of a poisonous gene pool mixed into one person. He was evil like his mother, sneaky like his father, and a wannabe ladies’ man like his brother, Charlie.
“Trevor doesn’t have the brain power to be up to something. I can handle him.” Opening the door a few inches, Simone stuck her face in the crack. “What do you want?”
While small in stature, Trevor had perfected the art of looking down his nose at people he deemed beneath him. “I’m here to collect Tobias and Cecilia.”
“For what?”
“Because they’re Charlie’s children and belong with their father.”
Simone laughed for the first time since losing Devon. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Watch your mouth, girl.” Trevor slapped a hand on the solid oak door, giving it a shove. “Or did you forget that Fairweather Holdings pays Haven’s hefty bills? You wouldn’t want to lose your home, would you?”
The anger she’d been suppressing broke like a dam, and Simone jammed her shoulder against the door, knocking him back. “Now I know you’ve lost your mind, Trevor Fairweather,” she yelled, struggling when he tried to shove his way inside. “How dare you come here and start talking this kind of bullshit.”
Miranda and Josie rushed forward to help, and together they closed the door, securing the deadbolt.
Simone ran down the hall and into the kitchen, bolting the back door. The children looked on as if she were crazy. “Stay in here,” she said and ran out again.
There was no telling how long Ty would be out in the woods with the boys, leaving them no choice but to call Ben. Within minutes, his black Rover roared up the drive, and the women watched together from the parlor window as the brothers engaged in a shouting match on the front walk.
Surprising them all, Trevor didn’t back down, pointing his finger in Ben’s face while the fight went on.
“How long has he been like this?” Simone asked Miranda, shaken by not only Trevor’s demands, but also Ben’s haggard appearance. “He doesn’t look like he’s eaten in weeks.”
Miranda shook her head. “He’s always sitting in the dark when I go over. I had no idea things had gotten this bad.”
Moving away from Trevor, Ben pulled out his cell phone, talking with someone for a long time. He didn’t care for what he was hearing on the other end of the call, and started to pace on the front walk, glancing up at the three of them standing in the parlor’s front windows every so often.
“Ladies, this isn’t good,” Josie warned when Ben hung up and abruptly stalked towards the house. “Prepare yourselves.”
Simone met him at the door, recoiling when he entered. Up close, Ben appeared so much worse. “Call CeCe and Toby in here,” he said, his voice raspy as if he hadn’t spoken in forever. “Tell them it’s time to go.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
Ben’s face darkened, thinning it out even more. Running a hand through his thick black hair that probably hadn’t seen water and shampoo for weeks, he glared at her with the barest hint of anger in his dead eyes.
