The Surprise Triplets

They were enough to fill up her life and her heart. They had to be.

Chapter Four (#ulink_f29a4f39-0d30-5cb8-b2c6-b1e5f6d78027)

Edmond had intended to stay after the ceremony only long enough to be polite. He’d assumed his presence might be uncomfortable for Melissa.

Instead, she was friendly toward him, while Dawn eagerly joined the red-haired flower girls at the buffet table in an area connecting the kitchen and den. He was glad he’d brought her. His niece could use a change of scenery to take her mind off visiting her mom in jail.

Worse might lie ahead for Barbara. Edmond tried not to dwell on that disturbing prospect. He needed today’s change of pace as much as Dawn.

“You and your housemates are wonderful cooks,” he told Melissa as they waited in line. Delicious smells wafted from the array of dishes, while a separate table displayed a three-tiered white cake decked with blue and red berries and, on top, a large red heart. Plates of cookies surrounded it, presumably for those too impatient to wait for dessert.

“The food is mostly Karen’s doing. I’m the baker. I can’t take credit for the wedding cake, though,” she added. “I’m the cookie lady.”

“I’m impressed by anything people do in a kitchen, other than set fires.” Growing up, Edmond had learned the basics, but rarely cooked.

“When we moved into the house, the five of us voted to take turns, each fixing dinner for a week. That didn’t last,” Melissa admitted. “Now we all pitch in or go our own ways.”

“The kitchen must have been upgraded.” From where they stood, Edmond noted gleaming new appliances.

“Karen remodeled after her mother died last year,” Melissa said. “She didn’t change the basic shape of the room, though. You still have to perform the limbo to get into the pantry.”

“So she inherited the place. I was wondering why she bought a house here, considering the smell. Although the scenery is striking.” Sliding glass doors offered a view across the patio and rear yard to the gray-and-green estuary. “What’s the layout—any bedrooms downstairs?” While he didn’t expect a tour of the place, Edmond was curious about the sleeping arrangements.

“Lucky has a small suite through there.” She indicated a doorway on the far side of the den. “Karen, Zora, Anya and I have bedrooms upstairs.”

“Except now Rod’s taking Anya’s place,” he muttered, half to himself.

Melissa ducked her head. “I keep forgetting.”

“Won’t that be awkward, having a guy upstairs with the ladies?”

In a low tone, she confided, “He and Karen have become close. I hope that won’t blow up in our faces, but she seems happy, and he’s a solid guy underneath the kidding.”

“Yes, I got that impression.”

As Edmond filled his plate at the serving table, he recalled his intention of cultivating new acquaintances. There were a lot of people here, and he supposed he could chat them up, but he’d much rather spend the afternoon in Melissa’s company.

Also, he suspected many of the guests, aside from those he’d already met, were from out-of-town. The father of the bride was busy tending to his wife, who moved stiffly with the aid of a cane. Jack was introducing his friends to a fiftyish woman dressed in knock-your-eyes-out Caribbean colors. Edmond had heard that Jack’s mother lived in Haiti and raised money for charities there.

He decided to forget duty for one day. Aside from keeping an eye on Dawn, of course. She and the two older girls had gone outside to eat at the patio table. Before they closed the glass door behind them, Dawn had sent Edmond a questioning gaze. He nodded his approval. If the girls didn’t mind the smell, more power to them.

“I’m glad she’s found playmates,” he said, following Melissa to a well-worn couch. “She tends to be shy, especially with new people. Jack’s nieces seem outgoing.”

“Except around their stepfather,” she murmured.

Edmond didn’t spot Vince Adams or his wife in the den, although they’d been at the head of the buffet line. He assumed the couple had carried their plates into the dining room, where some of Melissa’s housemates had put back the dining room table and set it immediately after the ceremony. That suited him fine. No matter how important the Adamses might be as potential donors, Edmond was in no mood for apple-polishing, especially to a guy who’d publicly humiliated his stepdaughter.

“You’re good with Dawn.” Melissa set her plate on the coffee table.

“I try.” He stared moodily at his food. “Let’s hope I do better with her than I did with my sister. I wish I understood where I went wrong.”

“Why do you blame yourself for her problems?” she asked.

“When we were young and Dad was on the road, Barbara used to confide in me about everything, value my advice, follow me around. But when she hit adolescence, I was commuting to college so I couldn’t be there for her. She began acting out, cutting school, skipping her homework assignments.”

“Many teenagers rebel to a degree,” she pointed out.

“Sure, but then she ran off with Simon. I should have done more to stop her.” It had been only a few months after their marriage. “She was sixteen. We could have gone to the police.”

“That was your parents’ decision, not yours,” she reminded him. “And she did get legally emancipated after Dawn’s birth.”

“I can’t shake the sense that I let her down. Did she mention why she’d been so eager to leave home?” While Edmond knew Simon could be charming and manipulative, surely his sister hadn’t been totally blind to the man’s faults.

“I sensed she was angry, but not necessarily at you. She didn’t say anything specific, though.” Flecks of green stood out in Melissa’s hazel eyes. “I tried to talk to her after she had the baby, about planning a future for herself and Dawn, but she pushed me away. Edmond, why is she in jail? That sounds serious.”

“It is.” Months of holding his emotions in check, of standing strong for everyone around him, yielded to the relief of confiding in a person he trusted. “That jerk Simon talked her into driving the getaway car for a robbery.”

“I can’t believe she’d do something that stupid.” Melissa set down her fork, giving him her full attention.

Around them, people mingled and chatted. Edmond saw Karen glance their way as if about to approach, but he shook his head. She went in another direction. He decided he liked that woman. “According to Barbara—after the fact—Simon claimed he owed money to a criminal gang and that if he didn’t pay up, they’d kill him.”

“Was it true?”

“I have no idea.” Either way, that didn’t excuse the man’s crimes, nor Barb’s. “During the robbery, he and a policeman traded gunfire, and Simon was fatally wounded. The officer escaped injury, mercifully.”

That was fortunate both for the officer and for Barbara. Under California law, the district attorney could have charged her with murder just for being a participant in the robbery. However, perhaps doubting that a jury would convict her of murder under the circumstances, the D.A. had only charged her with robbery.

“Your sister was waiting in the getaway car?” Melissa asked.

“That’s right.” She hadn’t witnessed the shooting, but she’d heard gunfire. “Simon staggered into the passenger seat. While she was arguing that they should go to a hospital, he died.”

Melissa shook her head. “How awful.”

“I can’t spare any regrets for that man,” Edmond said bitterly. “He ruined my sister’s life—with her compliance.”

“What about Dawn? Where was she during all this?”

“She’d gone to the beach with a friend’s family.” The shootout had occurred on a Saturday, while his niece was out of school. “The police contacted my father and stepmother, who called me. I picked her up and broke the news.” He clenched his fists at the memory.

Edmond had built up to the subject gradually during the drive from the beach, telling his niece as much as he’d learned of the robbery and assuring her that her mother was unharmed but under arrest. Dawn had taken the news of Simon’s death solemnly, her response hard to read.

Then, tearfully, she’d asked, “Is it because I was mad at him?”

Shocked, Edmond had assured her that Simon’s death wasn’t her fault. “Neither you nor I nor anyone else has magical powers,” he’d told her, hoping that was the right thing to say. “This has nothing to do with you. Why were you mad at him?”

“He yelled at me for leaving my toys out.”

Edmond hadn’t been sure a seven-year-old understood what death meant, but later, after he’d hired a therapist, she’d insisted that Dawn did understand. Grieving was a complex process, she’d added. As Dawn entered new phases of development, she’d revisit the loss. For now, she needed to feel secure that the other people she loved weren’t going to disappear from her world, too.