Page 78 of Dalliances & Devotion (The Truitts 2)

Amalia opened her mouth to apologize to her parents, when the information echoed in her brain. The case was finished? David had completed his mission?

“He solved it?” she asked. “Who was it?” And did that mean he was gone? Without saying good-bye? Without giving her a chance to discuss a future together? Or had he decided already it wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it. Her mind raced.

“A woman with a rival column. She wanted to scare you into hiding, disrupt your writing, and to make you too much of a risk for the Inquirer.” Meg smoothed the bandages and stepped back to inspect her handiwork. “He and Thad are out waiting for news that the arrest in Indianapolis was successful, but should be back soon.”

Oh good. Soon. She settled back a little, her hair tangling with the headboard. “So she was the source of the negative letters to my editor?”

“Some of them.” Her mother shrugged, smoothed her own deep eggplant silk skirts, a sharp contrast from the white-pink coverlet. “Some of them were from regular readers. Each with their own opinions.”

“Some of them correct, no doubt.” And there was that throbbing in her temple again and the voice screaming failure in the back of her skull.”

A vague noise from her mother. “You can’t please everyone, Amalia. And just because not everyone likes it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t have value, isn’t good.”

What did she mean by that? Amalia opened her mouth to inquire but was interrupted.

“And plenty of people enjoy your writing just fine.” Her father raised a hand, halting the conversation, before turning to Meg. “Can you give us a few moments, please?”

“By all means.” Meg wiped her hands on her apron as she stood. “I should change.”

“Or take a long, hot, relaxing bath.” Amalia gave her a smile. “With all the pretty oils and then, we can call in a dressmaker because I think someone needs a few new things.”

“I’m not getting out of this house without you fiddling with my hair and putting powders on me, am I?” Meg grumbled but there was a teasing warmth in her voice as well.

“Nope.” If only she could rub her hands together in glee without the pain. This was going to be so much fun. “You don’t have to always wear them, but we’re friends and friends try new things with each other.”

“Fine. But nothing permanent, right?” Meg folded her arms and shifted from foot to foot, but there was curiosity in her expression besides a little fear.

“Naturally.” Amalia had to bite her lip to contain her squeal of excitement. All the things she could do... “Though you are going to love using additional, pre-styled hair.”

“I can’t wait.” Fine, a lot of fear in her tone, but the results would be fabulous.

When Meg closed the door, Amalia turned back to her parents and gazed at their rat

her earnest, rapt faces. She had their full and complete attention. This was a sign. She needed to speak to them, ask them about the money, settle the matter and figure out what she was going to do about David.

“I want access to the principal of the family trust, not just the income.” Her voice only shook a little.

“For your charity. We know.” Her mother nodded.

Wait? What did her mother just say? Amalia squinted. “You know? How do you know.”

“We keep track of our children.” Her father sat down on the bed as well, next to her mother, and squeezed his wife’s hands. “I would normally say that we aren’t idiots, but, unfortunately...” He grimaced.

“What your father is trying to say...” Her mother winced as well. “We didn’t quite take you or your other activities seriously enough over the years. We should’ve said something earlier, after we realized what had happened with Elias. But we were, well, embarrassed.”

“Oh.” Was the only word she managed. Her lip quivered so she had to suck it in, because she would not cry over a thing like this. So what if every suspicion she had about her parents was true? It was fine. She’d be fine.

“Not of you, never of you.” Her father’s eyes filled a little. “Of ourselves. We should’ve been better parents. We should’ve paid better attention and been present for you, so you wouldn’t have been so desperate.”

“We’re so sorry.” Her mother sniffled a little. “And we’re proud of you. For everything. Your charity and for the column.”

Her father leaned a little closer. “We read it all the time. It’s rather clever and enjoyable, especially when you directly quote your mother.”

“You’re talented, Amalia. Very talented, and caring, and we’re proud of you. So proud. And we love you so much.” Her mother nodded as she emphasized each word. “We don’t show it enough and we certainly don’t say it enough, but it’s true.”

She blinked again, even rubbed her eyes with her good hand. This had to be a dream. This couldn’t be real. “You aren’t ashamed of me? Of the divorces and the risqué writing? And the not being an intellectual, serious pillar of the community?”

“Why would we need you to be exactly like us? Or your siblings. That would be rather dull.” Her mother leaned into her father, before patting Amalia’s leg.

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