It's One of Us(31)

“Yeah. Wild.”

“Are you okay, hon? You sound stressed.”

“Finding out my husband lied to me does that. No big.”

“I thought you said you’d encouraged him to donate at one point during all the fertility stuff.”

“I did. I didn’t want him to be left with no one if we couldn’t stay pregnant, and I was pretty clear with him that if something happened to me, I wanted him to find someone and have a family. That’s not what’s going on here. He did this when he was younger. The kids are nearing adulthood. Some already are. And obviously, one is a murderer.”

“All right. That’s arguably very bad. But why are you mad at him? How is it different? Explain it to me.”

“Technically...” Olivia gathers her thoughts. Lindsey is right. She’s being a bit hypocritical. What difference does it make that he donated sperm then, or now? “When I brought it up, he didn’t tell me. That’s the issue. He had every opportunity to say hey, Liv, just FYI, I donated years ago, don’t worry, my evolutionary trail is covered.”

“But you would have been upset.”

“Damn straight. I’m upset now.”

“Understandable. I’m not defending him, truly. But I can see him not wanting to mention it to you simply because he knew it would set you off. It would set me off. Wait. You said kids, plural. There’s more than one?”

“Are you sitting down? There’s twenty-eight of them. And counting, apparently.”

The string of invectives is enough to make Olivia blush. God, if only she could cut loose like that.

“I feel the same way. I...saw one of them. A girl. In the police file. She’s here in Nashville. She looks just like you, except her hair is red and curly.”

Silence. “Aw, Liv. I’m sorry. This has to be impossibly hard. What can I do? How can I help?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I need right now. It’s all been too much—first I miscarry, again, then Park has a kid who’s a murderer, now there’s twenty-eight of them—it’s like a bad joke the universe is playing on me. All I can do is wonder why. What have I done to deserve this? Why am I being punished?”

She sounds childish and peevish, but she doesn’t care. For God’s sake.

Curly hair, a crooked smile, that dimple in her chin.

“All this aside... Lindsey. One of these kids—your nephew, technically—murdered a woman. What does that mean?”

Lindsey has gathered herself. Olivia can hear the scratching of pen on paper in the background. “It means there’s going to be a media shitstorm. We need to be prepared. I want to reach out to my friend Lucía Perez. She’s one of the best crisis management attorneys I’ve ever seen. She’ll—”

“Wait, what? You think we need a crisis management lawyer? Why can’t you handle things? I don’t want a stranger digging into our lives.” Olivia slumps in her seat, a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. “No. Keep this between us. Please.” She sniffs. “I can’t believe this is happening. As if we aren’t under enough stress.”

“Honey, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is going to be off the charts. The headlines write themselves. Sperm Donor Child Murderer, The Man with a Thousand Kids, you get the idea. Once they put together the current situation and Chapel Hill? There’s going to be press, and there’s going to be more police, and it’s going to be absolutely insane. I want you protected. You need to have someone who can run interference, who can put together a plan to get you through this. Both of you.”

She trails off.

“What?”

“The mothers...can you imagine how they are going to feel?”

Olivia quietly and carefully hangs up.

A few moments later, her phone chirps discreetly from the dashboard, and seeing it is neither Lindsey nor Park, she depresses the button to attach the call to the car’s speaker.

“OHB Designs.”

“Olivia? Oh, I’m so glad you answered. It’s the crazy cat lady! When are you coming to the beach to redo my house?”

Annika Rodrigue is hardly a crazy cat lady, though she is very rich, and very eccentric. She earned the moniker by having a human-size bronze sculpture of a stalking Siamese commissioned to place by her pool house. Thanks to a clever system of automated pulleys that Olivia designed for her, Annika’s guests would open the door to find the massive cat blocking their path, ready to pounce. Annika thought it great fun to scare her friends with the looming beast.

“Annika. How are you? It’s been ages.”

“It has been. You promised you’d get me on the schedule when I was ready and girl, now is the time. I won’t take no for an answer. We’re heading down to the beach house tomorrow, and you must come with. We’ll make a long weekend out of it. I’ll give you a blank check and free rein...” This last is sung with a cajoling two-note cadence.

“Such a seductress. I wish I could pick up and come with—”

“You can, and darling, you should.” Annika’s voice drops to a conspiratorial level. “A little bird told me you’re having quite the drama. Sneak away now before the media latches onto you. You’ll never shake them otherwise.”

Uh-oh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”