Page 84 of Dalliances & Devotion (The Truitts 2)

“But you’ll never...” He couldn’t say the rest.

“I will always love you and be proud of you,” his father said. “In my way.” The older man tutted a little. “You probably deserve better, but I can only give what I can give. However, just because I can’t be what you need, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it nor that you can’t do a better job in your own life.”

David’s mind whirled. Did he want the career he’d dreamed of as a child? He did. He always would. And maybe, just maybe his father was right—he could do it better now, after everything he’d learned, after everywhere he’d been. In this place, in this time. He could make this world better from that position. As the person he was.

“Fine.” David spread his arms wide and shook his head. “I accept. I’ll try. I can’t promise I’ll be good, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all anyone can ask. Of anyone.” The older man gave him a full broad smile before slapping him on the back so hard he near keeled over. “I’ll give you the address and we can get things in order.” He dug into his pocket and held out a small satchel. “Here’s another letter for you. This one is from your friends, Will and Meg?”

David blinked at him.

“Who do you think gave Miss Levy and Miss Nathan my name?” his father said. “I believe that’s an invitation. They’re getting married. They said something about finding a way to create the life they wanted, the family they wanted. Suggested you do the same.”

“Easy for them to say.” David grumbled a little, making a circle with his toe on the dusty floorboard. “They love each other. Think they’re good enough for each other.”

“Or perhaps they just listen to each other.” His father turned to exit and paused. “Oh, and Will wanted to give you another message. Something about the Truitt matter. The case itself. He said that though you did an excellent job, it turns out some of your facts were incorrect.”

Incorrect? The case was solved, everything made sense, everyone was going to jail. Everyone was safe.

“He said to tell you that motive you discovered for the rat and the notes was right, but not the violence,” his father said.

“What?” David gasped. What was it then, and where was the man going with this?

“Amalia Truitt isn’t the only one who is capable of making enemies.” His father stroked his chin, his voice a bit amused. “The Walker-Whittaker folks only wanted to frighten her, put her out of business, but when you started poking around the plan expanded.”

David gaped at the man. “Sir?”

“You were the target of the bullet that Miss Truitt took,” he said. “Seems like you engender love and loyalty in more than your family back in Europe. It would be a shame after witnessing that and so many other actions that you’d refuse to give her a chance. Let what I did spoil that for you as well.”

Before David could say anything more, or even process the information, his father swept out of the apartment, probably to find a willing woman who wasn’t Mrs. Weiss.

* * *

“Now, if we use wig pieces to extend the hair and already have them styled before we clip them in, really, it could look lovely and put together with no time commitment.” Amalia glided her hands over her recent purchases, gifts to send Meg in Boston. “Maybe a few braids to give volume and some pre-made curls matching her hair...”

Perhaps search an even higher-end wig shop, because truth be told, Meg must chop her hair a great deal as there wasn’t much to spare, so what she ordered might not be enough. The color was nice though. Especially when washed—really thoroughly washed with ammonia and then lavender to block out the fumes.

“And how expensive would that be, exactly?” Her mother’s cousin, Isaac, didn’t have to face her for Amalia to discern his bemused expression. He’d long been one of her favorite relatives, always willing to humor her.

“Not inexpensive,” a voice from the hall of the house on Delancey Street remarked.

Amalia smoothed her skirt and rounded the heavy-wood fainting couch to kiss her mother on the cheek. “I thought I wouldn’t see you for another week—that you couldn’t take another one of Lydia’s dissertations.”

“I brought earplugs.” In a flash, her mother had swept into the room, bedecked in deep navy instead of black, and settled on a brocade chair. “Though I have it on good authority that she and Rachel are at a meeting for the hospital so I figured it would be a good time to check in on my youngest child and favorite cousin. See how things are progressing.”

Amalia groaned. Her mother needed to cease with her nagging about David. There was no solution to that problem. She forced a bright smile and indicated to the hair. “I think things are going swimmingly. Doesn’t it look lovely?”

“Quite.” Her mother nodded. “But you know that’s not what I was speaking of.” She inclined her head towards Isaac. “Will you leave us for a moment, dear?”

“What? I’m not missing some Truitt-on-Truitt fireworks.” Isaac gripped the carved wave-like edge of the couch. “Princess versus queen.”

“I keep telling you that I’m the queen,” Amalia said. “The name after all.”

“Queen versus queen-in-training, Malcah,” Isaac repeated her Hebrew name again and kissed the top of her head.

Her mother’s lips quirked.

“But regardless, I’m not sure you should leave,” Amalia said with only a slight amount of bitterness. “I believe my last private chat with my parents is what began this mess.” A mess she’d never resolve. As David had not once spoken to her since the day in Centerville, despite the fact he was teaching three doors down from her on Sundays.

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