Before We Were Yours(84)

Which, I realize with a shiver, makes me eerily like the adoptive parents who inadvertently funded Georgia Tann’s business. No doubt some were well-meaning people and some of the children really did need homes, but others, especially those who knew that exorbitant fees were being forked over for made-to-order sons and daughters, must have had some idea of what was happening. They just assumed that money, power, and social position gave them the right.

Guilt stains this realization of mine. I think of all the privileges I’ve been given, including a Senate seat practically prepackaged for me.

Do I have a right to any of this, just because of the family I come from?

Trent’s hands tuck awkwardly back into his pockets. He glances at his car, then turns my way again. “Don’t be a stranger. Look me up next time you’re on Edisto.”

The idea strikes me like the sound of the bugle going off at the beginning of a cross-country hunt, when the horse’s muscles tense and I know that if I just loosen the reins, all that potential energy will be unleashed in one direction. “I’d really love to know what else you discover about your grandfather’s family…if you find anything, I mean. No pressure, though. I don’t want to be nosy.”

“Why stop now?”

I cough, pretending to be offended, but we both know it’s the truth. “It’s the lawyer in me. Sorry.”

“You must be a good lawyer.”

“I try to be.” I swell with the sense of pride that comes from having someone else affirm an accomplishment I care about. One I worked for myself. “I like to see things set right.”

“It shows.”

A car pulls up into a nearby parking space. The intrusion reminds both of us that we can’t stand here forever.

Trent takes a last look at the nursing home. “It sounds as if she’s lived quite a life.”

“Yes, it does.” It stings to imagine May, my grandmother’s friend, languishing in this place day after day. No visitors. No one to talk to. Grandkids living far away in a complex blended-family situation. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just a reality. I’ll definitely get in touch with Andrew Moore at the PAC and see if he can suggest any organizations that could help her.

A horn sounds on the street, and nearby a car door closes. The world is still moving, and Trent and I should too.

His chest heaves outward and then relaxes. His breath grazes my ear as he leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “Thanks, Avery. I’m glad I know the truth.”

His face lingers against mine. I smell salt air, and baby shampoo, and a hint of pluff mud. Or maybe I’m only imagining it.

“Me too.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says again.

“I won’t.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a woman coming up the sidewalk. White blouse, pumps, black skirt. Her rapid-fire steps feel unwelcome, out of keeping with the day. Heat boils into my cheeks, and I jerk away from Trent so quickly, he gives me a confused look.

Leslie has tracked me down. I should’ve known better than to ask Ian to check on May’s condition for me. Leslie’s chin recedes into her neck as she regards Trent and me. I can only imagine what she’s thinking. Actually, I don’t have to imagine it. I can see what she’s thinking. The exchange she just witnessed looked intimate.

“Thanks again, Trent.” I try to diffuse the impression she must have. “Take care on the drive home.” I step back, clasp my hands one over the other.

His eyes search mine. “Yeah,” he mutters, cocking his head to one side and squinting at me. He has no idea someone is standing behind him or that the real world has come rushing in with gale force.

“We’ve been looking for you.” Leslie makes her presence known without taking time for pleasantries. “Cellphone not working this morning, or are you in hiding?”

Trent moves aside, glances from my father’s press secretary to me.

“I was on vacation,” I say. “Everyone knew where I was.”

“On Edisto?” Leslie retorts with a nip of sarcasm. Clearly, I’m not on Edisto now. She directs another suspicious glare in Trent’s direction.

“Yes…well…I…” My mind scrambles. Sweat beads under the cotton floral tourist dress I bought so I’d have something clean to wear today. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t have time for it. You’re needed at home.” She means to let Trent know we have business to tend to and he’s not welcome here any longer. It works. He gives me one last quizzical look, then excuses himself, saying he has someone he wants to visit while he’s in Aiken.

“Take care, Avery,” he says, and starts toward his car.

“Trent…thanks,” I call after him. He lifts a hand and waves over his shoulder in a way that says, whatever is going on here, he wants no part of it.

I wish I could run after him and at least apologize for Leslie’s abrupt dismissal, but I know I shouldn’t. It’ll only raise more questions.

“My phone was off, I think.” I preempt Leslie before she can start an inquisition. “Sorry about that. What’s going on?”

She blinks slowly, lifts her chin. “Let’s not talk about that for a minute. Let’s talk about what I just saw when I came up this sidewalk.” She waves a hand toward Trent, and I hope he’s far enough away not to hear her. “Because that was disturbing.”