Beachcombing in the Bahamas (Once Again #11)

Chapter 32 – Adeline

32

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ADELINE

W e’re finally home, but the flight has exhausted me. The seat didn’t even lie flat, so I couldn’t sleep. What was Brock thinking when he chartered that plane? Also, I had no one to talk to because they all refused to sit with me. But they’ll get over it eventually. Especially when they think about my will. After all, I can leave everything to charity, especially this house.

They’ll be back. So will Brock. Without the gold digger because I won’t have her in my house again. Her daughters have left her, too, returning to school even before their Christmas break is over, and making their disapproval obvious.

Now what on earth is all that commotion downstairs?

A quick brush of the curtains reveals the boys packing up their cars. But at Berkeley, they have almost two weeks before the break is over. Why are they leaving now?

By the time I arrive outside, they’re gone, them and their girlfriends. Well, good riddance to those two girls. Neither of them is good enough for my grandsons. But the boys didn’t even say goodbye to their grandmother.

At least Trevor’s car still sits in the driveway.

As I stand on the front porch, I hear another great clattering inside the house behind me. Trevor and my butler Nolan carry three massive suitcases down the stairs, Lorna trailing them.

My heart races. I’m sure it’s glee. “You’re taking over the gatehouse?” I ask as they pass me, marching down the front steps to the car.

Yvette is gone. Of course she is after that atrocious incident on the island. And after I revealed her unsavory origins.

But then Brock is gone too.

But he’ll be back. He’ll see I did what was necessary. Eventually he will.

On his way back, while Nolan helps Lorna into the car, Trevor, my least favorite son, says, “We’re not moving into the gatehouse.” I don’t like the way he says that, with a drawl of sarcasm in his tone. “It’s time Lorna and I find our own place. We might look for a house in Hillsborough or Atherton.” I know the two are affluent bedroom communities on the Peninsula. “Lorna would like to do some gardening.”

I’m not stupid. Gardening isn’t the reason. Lorna will be too busy with the baby to do any gardening. No, Trevor is angry like the rest of them. Well, I’ve always been one to take the bull by the horns. “I only did what had to be done.”

He doesn’t glare at me. Instead, he resembles a sad puppy. He has never been the strongest of my sons. And yet his voice rings out powerfully. “Is that why you cheated on my father and had Pierce?” Before I can answer, he adds, “Am I even my father’s son? Or am I another of your by-blows?”

I don’t like the way he mocks me, and I feel the need to defend myself. “I only did what your father had already done. He deserved it. But you are his son. And you were never anything like Pierce.”

He smiles then, humorless, his gaze flat and that mirthless smile never reaching his eyes. “I’m glad I’m nothing like Pierce.”

Before he can say what he thinks Pierce was, I preempt him. “None of you knew Pierce the way I did. None of you knew what he’d been through. None of you ever understood him. No one but me. And if it wasn’t for your father’s meddling, bringing that girl here, Pierce would still be alive. So you can blame her for that.”

Trevor shakes his head, that cheerless smile still on his lips and never touching his eyes. “Pierce acted the way he did because you let him get away with all his bad behavior. And now we all know why, don’t we? Because he was yours alone. Because he was your payback. That part of your story, I believe.”

“I don’t like your tone,” I snap.

“No worries, Adeline. You won’t have to listen to it again.” He salutes me, then skirts around where I stand on the porch and jogs into the house, his steps almost jaunty. As if suddenly he is free.

Well, good riddance. He can’t even have the decency to impregnate his wife with a boy. So really, what use is he? It’s Brock who had the boys I required.

After hauling down another two bags, Trevor jumps into his overpriced luxury sedan. He doesn’t say goodbye or even wave.

Nolan climbs the steps, stopping beside me. “Would you like tea, ma’am?”

“Yes, Nolan. I’ll take it in the study.”

But inside, after the front door closes behind me, the house is far too quiet.

They’ll be back. I know they will. After all, I’m head of the family, the matriarch of the Donnelly dynasty.