Page 21 of Deny Me
Chapter Ten
The elevator at the back of the house was put in for Ruth several years ago. The housekeeper had been with their family since Charlotte was a baby, and when arthritis developed in one of her knees, she’d refused to retire. Ben had acquiesced—then proceeded to put in an elevator and hire two maids to come in daily and do the heavy lifting so Ruth didn’t overtax herself. People often said,What Daddy wants, he gets, in a condescending way, but her father took care of those around him, often in overly generous ways, financially and emotionally.
Tonight the elevator was perfect for an eight-months-pregnant teen and a concussion-recovering woman needing to get from the third to the first floor without taking the stairs.
“Charlotte?”
She glanced at the hesitant look on Becky’s face. The girl appeared more rested after two days with Charlotte than she had her entire pregnancy living with her father. “Yeah?”
Thedingof the bell announcing their arrival caused Becky to hesitate. They stepped into the back hall, the only ones around. Charlotte put her hand on Becky’s arm, stopping her when she would have moved away. “Tell me what’s going on. Are you feeling okay?”
“Of course! How could I not? I’m not worrying about sleep. I’ve got people plying me with food everywhere I turn.” A half-hearted smile tugged at Becky’s mouth. “Your mom is insisting on taking care of me and buying everything a baby could possibly need, all from the comfort of a living room that’s bigger than my trailer. At least”—her gaze dropped away from Charlotte’s—“I think it’s my trailer.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Charlotte asked, the tentative tone of Becky’s voice gelling the problem in her mind. “That you won’t have a place to live with Richard gone?”
“A place to live. A way to take care of myself, of her.”
The sound of someone moving down the hall near the kitchen had Charlotte grasping Becky’s hand and pulling her into a side room. She closed the door quietly before turning to take her hands again. “I don’t know anything about the legalities of your father’s property, though Wes can probably help us there. But let me make this a hundred percent, absolutely clear: You don’t ever—ever—have to worry about a place to live again.”
“Why?”
Her heart broke at Becky’s uncertainty. For years Charlotte had dealt with her own private heartache, but she’d never had to worry about being worthy enough to love. Becky’s parents had taught her nothing could make her worthy. “Because I’m going to make sure of it, Becky. Because all that stuff my mom is buying is for you to use no matter what, but we would really love for you to use it here, with us. And not just because both our lives could be in danger.” Pulling Becky close, she stood on tiptoe to rest their foreheads together. “You didn’t think I was going to shuttle you off, did you?”
Becky shrugged. “My own father did.”
Forget breaking—her heart shattered in that moment. But there was no denying the truth. “He did. But I won’t.” She nudged Becky’s chin up until their gazes met. “I’m not him, and neither is my family. Which you are a part of now. You might not understand what that means yet, but you’ll learn. You don’t have to earn a place here, and you don’t have to worry about being thrown out if you do anything wrong. You’re home, okay?”
“Even if I decide not to keep her?”
“Even then,” Charlotte choked out, her emotion running over.
The tension in Becky’s shoulders slowly softened. “I’m not sure I believe that.”
Charlotte shook her gently. “That’s understandable, but it doesn’t change the facts. You’re our family now. I’ll keep reminding you, no matter how long it takes.”
“Charlotte!”
Her mother’s voice broke the moment. “I think we’re being paged.”
Becky gave a watery giggle as she followed Charlotte back out into the hallway.
“Charlotte!” Her mother rounded the corner. “Oh, there you are. The team has informed me you have a visitor.”
Oh. “Who?”
“No idea.”
Well, they’d find out together, she guessed. She followed her mom down the hall, Becky bringing up the rear. In the open foyer at the base of the stairs, a semicircle of people stood at the front door—two broad backs and a narrow female one blocking Charlotte’s view of their guests. She managed a peek past Elliot’s shoulder as she moved into the room, and saw—
“Abby!”
“Charlotte.”
Pushing her way through the small crowd, she flung herself into her friend’s open arms, surprised at the sudden press of tears behind her eyelids. She might not have seen Abby again, might not have seen her family again. Because of a greedy man who’d wanted to sell his grandchild.
Damn Richard to hell and back.
She eased away, watching as Abby’s concerned gaze took in the people around them. A smirk tugged at Charlotte’s lips. Normally it was Abby who was surrounded by men who looked ready to tear someone’s head off for coming too close.So this is how she feels.
