The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(85)

"But I do,” he countered. "I see it in your eyes when you speak of him. I look at Karen and wonder how any man could turn his back on his own daughter.”

Maureen felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

"Where does it stop, Maureen?”

"What do you mean?”

"You phone the attorney about him with a list of wrongdoings. He contacts his attorney about you. Who suffers in all this?”

Maureen already knew the answer to this. She’d faced it that evening. "Karen,” she said in a small, weak voice.

"You’re hurting, too, but you need to realize that most of that pain is self-inflicted. Don’t forgive Brian because he deserves it. Don’t do it because he’s asking you to pardon him for all the ugly, hurtful wrongs.”

Maureen wouldn’t live to see that day. "Don’t worry, it’d never happen.”

"Do it for you,” Thom advised softly. "And for Karen.”

"I’ll try,” she promised. He made it sound so easy, as if all she had to do was let nearly fifteen years of accumulated resentments roll off her back like rainwater off a mallard.

"Now if Karen’s going to be with her dad, what are you doing Christmas Eve?” Thom asked.

"Nothing much.” For a time she’d thought she’d join her parents, but they had already made plans with longtime family friends. They’d invited Maureen to join them, but she didn’t want to intrude. She’d made an excuse, and they’d accepted it.

"Would you like to come out to the ranch?” Thom asked. "Paula and I would love to have you.”

The offer was by far the most tempting one she’d had. "I’d like to, but…”

"What’s holding you back?”

"I’d rather be close by in case Karen phones.” Maureen didn’t anticipate any trouble between father and daughter, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

"You’re sure?”

"Yes,” she told him reluctantly, "but thanks for the invitation.” The way it looked, she’d have a peaceful evening home by herself. That was fine. She could bake sugar cookies and decorate them for Christmas Day. If she got really ambitious, she just might whip up a batch of fudge.

They spoke for a few moments longer, and when Maureen hung up, she thanked whatever it was that had caused her to dial Thom’s phone number instead of her mother’s.

She knew she’d live through the horrors of the damned the minute her daughter drove off with her ex-husband if she didn’t have some peace of mind on the subject. She reached for the phone book and looked up Brian’s number. A woman answered. Maureen hadn’t met Brian’s new wife. The fact was, she pitied the poor woman.

"This is Maureen Woods,” she said stiffly.

An awkward silence followed.

"Just a moment, please, and I’ll get Brian.”

A polite little thing, Maureen mused. She only hoped Brian didn’t overly abuse her.

Her ex-husband came on the line almost immediately. "Maureen?” he demanded crossly.

"Yes.”

"What do you want now? More money? Lawyers’ fees? Or wasn’t fifteen years of making my life hell good enough for you?”

Maureen nearly bit her tongue in half to keep from rising to the bait. "None of that,” she said without emotion. "Just a question.” However, getting the words out of her mouth proved to be damn near impossible.

"What?”

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Do you or do you not intend to seek custody of Karen?”

Her words were followed by a short, static-filled silence. "Got you worried, do I?”

How he’d love to see her crawl on her knees and beg. Maureen was convinced he’d sell his soul just to see her squirm. At the moment she was prepared to do all three.

"Yes,” she admitted, hoping none of the emotion bled into her voice. "I’m worried.”

He hesitated, seeming to enjoy her discomfort, and then he said, "Don’t be. We both know Karen’s better off with you than me. I’ll raise her if you want, but I doubt that you do.”

With that he hung up the phone.

18

Catherine couldn’t remember a time the Wilshire Grove Retirement Center looked more festive. Swags of evergreen were draped about the room and festooned with huge red bows of velvet. Several long tables were connected and covered with a lace tablecloth, the center’s finest. A series of silver platters filled with a variety of homemade cookies graced the tables. The sterling-silver punch bowl was at one end and the matching coffee and tea service at the other.

Emily and Thelma, two of the most hardworking members of the library committee, stepped back and admired their handiwork.

"It’s lovely,” Emily said.

Catherine couldn’t agree with her more. "I couldn’t have done it without you two, and Joy.”

Joy had seen to most of the wall decorations and had been at the center until all hours of the night. Catherine didn’t know what time the resident service director had finally gone home. All she knew was that she’d gone up to her apartment close to eleven and Joy had assured Catherine that she was nearly finished. She’d promised to leave for home soon. But from the lush display of decorations, Catherine realized Joy must have been there half the night or longer.