Tattered (Lark Cove Book 1)

The cocktail hour was the longest hour of my life.

As Charlie and I huddled together, sipping our drinks, conversation with the Kendricks carried on as if we weren’t here. I flip-flopped between listening to the business conversations between Aubrey, Logan and Thomas, then to Alice and Sofia gossiping about their friends. Meanwhile, Lillian stood quietly, watching me with a careful eye.

Charlie had traded Logan’s legs for mine, leaning against me as she kept her eyes on the floor. I hated that she was so uncomfortable, and I was pissed that her grandparents hadn’t tried at all to get to know her. It made my own misery even more difficult to bear.

“Am I late?” The conversation stopped as an elderly woman waltzed into the parlor, then answered her own question. “Of course not. Granny is never late. You’re all early.”

She crossed the room wearing cream slacks and a matching sweater. She was dripping in gold and diamonds, but the fact that she wasn’t in an evening gown made me feel much more comfortable about my own attire.

She paid no attention to anyone other than Charlie as she came our way with a warm smile. Her eyes flickered to me briefly but went right back to my daughter as she bent at the waist and held out a hand.

“You must be my most special great-granddaughter, Charlie. My name is Joan, but everyone calls me Granny.”

Charlie looked past her to Logan, who gave her a smile and nod. With a hesitant step, she moved closer to Joan to return the handshake.

“Now.” Joan stood up, not letting go of Charlie’s hand as she walked toward the door. “You’re going to want to sit with me at dinner. The cook knows to skip the vegetables on my plate, give me twice the potatoes and three times the dessert. I requested his special french fries tonight so we can pig out.”

When Charlie giggled, I let out a huge sigh.

Joan had the same presence as Logan and his father did. They shared an air of confidence and command. But Joan’s was warmer. And she still hadn’t acknowledged anyone else in her family because she was so focused on my daughter.

Logan chuckled as he came to my side, placing his hand on the small of my back as we left the parlor. “Watch out. Granny might try and kidnap her.”

“I don’t think Charlie would mind.”

Ahead of us, Granny was hunched to the side, listening as Charlie told her about something, most likely her fort.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Logan’s parents behind us. Lillian and Thomas were both watching me. Behind them, Aubrey was rolling her eyes at Alice and Sofia, who were still giggling.

“I’m sorry,” Logan whispered as we walked. “I had no idea Alice would be here.”

“Ex-girlfriend?”

“She was never my girlfriend, just a mistake from months ago. But we dated and she’s become friends with Sofia. I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. Let’s just get through dinner.” Then we could escape back to the guesthouse and hide.

We all entered the dining room and took our seats. Charlie and Joan were talking about soccer. Thomas was engrossed with his phone, occasionally asking Aubrey if she’d seen this or that email. And the rest of us sat quietly and ate the first course, a simple salad.

“So Thea,” Aubrey said from her seat across the table as the main course was served. “Logan says you’re a professional artist.”

I shook my head and swallowed my own fry. “No. It’s just a hobby.”

“She’s incredible.” Logan leaned past me to look at Joan. “I’ll send you some pictures of her work. I think you’d like some things for your collection.”

“Pass those on to me too.” Aubrey smiled at me. “What style of art do you do? Impressionism? Contemporary? Realism?”

“Um, modern, I guess?” I had no clue how to classify my art. Was trash a style?

“Modern!” Aubrey cheered. “Oh, I love modern. Tell me about your process.”

I shoved a bite in my mouth, chewing to buy myself some time. Aubrey meant well, but her questions made me feel even more like an imposter. She probably thought I was some kind of starving artist, forced to work at a bar until my art career bloomed. In reality, I loved my job at the bar and had no desire to become a full-time artist.

“Mommy, can I have some ketchup?”

“Sure, honey.” I scrambled for the glass bottle, hoping it would be a segue into a conversation as far away from my garbage art as possible.

Luckily, by the time I plopped a blob onto Charlie’s plate, Thomas had stolen Aubrey’s attention again to discuss something about work.

“Logan, have you given any thought to enrolling Charlotte at Rotherchild Academy?” Lillian asked from the foot of the table.

“It’s Charlie,” Logan and I both corrected in unison. “And no, Mom. I haven’t thought about Rothchild. She’s not going to school all the way out here.”

“Then what about Fairlane?” Lillian asked. “It’s closer to the penthouse if you’ll be staying in the city.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Let’s talk about it later.”

I gaped at Logan. Had he actually considered putting Charlie in some New York academy after I’d specifically told him I wanted her to go to school in Montana?

“Charlie goes to school in Lark Cove,” I announced. “She won’t be going to any academy.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair and turned in his seat. “That’s not what I meant.”

I threw his words right back in his face. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Charlotte is a lovely name.” Lillian forked a piece of roast tenderloin, cutting it into a delicate bite. “Don’t you think, Sofia?”

“Lovely,” Sofia agreed. “Much more fitting for the family than Charlie.”

Lillian nodded. “I’d really love to call her Charlotte. Would that be all right?”

I looked down at Charlie to see her frown.

Obviously, I loved the name Charlotte. I’d picked it out because it had sounded classy, like something Logan’s daughter would be named. It was a name I would have picked for myself. So I’d been upset the day Charlie had come home from camp and declared she was no longer Charlotte.

But my frustration hadn’t lasted long. Hazel had told me about a boy who’d come to the camp. His name was Ray, he had muscular dystrophy, and my little girl had bonded with him instantly. Ray was confined to a wheelchair and since he couldn’t get down and play in the dirt, Charlie had brought the dirt to him. She’d found him sticks and rocks and pinecones. From what Hazel had said, that boy had had an incredible camp experience simply because of my daughter.

Ray had nicknamed her Charlie.

So if that name was special to her, then she could go by it whenever she wanted. And I’d be happy to enforce it with Logan’s mother.

“I’m sorry, Lillian. No. Charlie prefers her nickname and she’s old enough to make that decision.”

Lillian’s eyes went wide, surprised that I’d deny her. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Logan intervened. “Enough, Mom. It’s Charlie. End of discussion.”

“Shall we change the subject?” Joan offered. “Thea, remind me what you do in Montana.”

“I manage a local bar and restaurant.”

God, just saying it out loud sounded pathetic. How was it that in one dinner, these people had taken away something I’d always been proud of?

Well, forget that. I wasn’t going to be ashamed that I made a living serving drinks. The waiters coming in and out of the dining room tonight had nothing to be ashamed of and neither did I.

“The bar has been in my family for years.”

“Your family?” Thomas asked, tuning into the conversation. “What family?”

My head whipped to his end of the table. His expression was knotted in confusion—Thomas knew I didn’t have family. Because he’d looked into me. He probably knew more about my heritage than I did.

Did Logan? Had he had one of his assistants dig into my past too? He’d been so patient and understanding, letting me dodge the subject of my childhood. But maybe that was because he’d already learned everything there was to know.

I couldn’t confront him about it now, not with his father’s question hanging in the air.

What family?

“My family.” Hazel and Jackson might not share my DNA, but they were my family.

“So you run a bar.” Alice polished off her third glass of wine. The waiters had been refilling it constantly. “No wonder you jumped all over the chance to trap Logan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Alice,” Logan shot across the table, “one more word and I’ll have you escorted out.”

Sofia shushed her, scooting her water glass closer, but even Logan’s threat didn’t stop her loose tongue.

“Oh, Logan. Don’t you see this is all just a trick? She’s obviously a gold digger. Are you sure this kid is even yours? I mean, look at her.” She flung out a hand, nearly knocking over her water as she snickered. “The least you could do is cut her hair if you wanted to pass her off as his kid. She’s like a wild little animal.”

Bitch.

Charlie’s entire body flinched and I instantly took her hand.

The waves of anger coming off Logan crashed into my shoulder. “Get her out of my sight.”

From nowhere, Phil the butler appeared along with one of his helpers. It took them all of twenty seconds to hoist drunk Alice out of her seat and away from the dining room. Her protests echoed down the hall for a moment until they stopped with the sound of a slammed door.

“What were you thinking, inviting her here?” Logan snapped at Sofia. “Why would you do that?”

“I just wanted to have a friend over.” Sofia huffed. “This is my house too.”

“Your taste in friends is worse than it is in husbands.”

Sofia gasped. “Alice had a point. How do you know she’s not just out for our money?”

The look on Sofia’s face was full of regret as the words filled the room, but it was too late. She’d said them and Logan was not going to be forgiving.

I almost felt bad for her.

The glare Logan sent his sister gave me chills. “Say one more word and I’ll revoke your ability to withdraw from your trust fund. Maybe if you went with a little less from now on, you’d be more respectful of the people in this room.”

“What?” Sofia screamed, shooting up from her chair, teetering to the side from her own cosmo buzz. “You can’t do that! Dad is in charge of the trust funds.”

“Not anymore.”

She held his gaze, her face paling when he didn’t falter. She spun to Thomas. “Daddy?”

Thomas frowned, but before he could intervene, Aubrey spoke up. “Is this true?” she asked, looking just as stunned as Sofia.

Thomas nodded, his serious demeanor not cracking a bit. “Logan will be taking over some of the family responsibilities. Overseeing the trust funds is part of that. Until your funds are released, he’ll be approving your withdrawals.”

Or not approving their withdrawals.

“But I don’t get my money for another three years!” Sofia shrieked, now looking to her mother for help. “Mom?”

Lillian’s mouth was slightly open. “Logan, you can’t be serious.”

He didn’t respond to his mom. He just kept glaring at Sofia.

“Why are we just learning about this?” Aubrey asked Thomas. “I work with you every day, but you couldn’t bother telling me that my brother is now in charge of my personal finances?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Aubrey.” Thomas waved her off. “We transferred it over just last week. Besides, you haven’t taken a disbursement in years. We all know you’re living off your salary. Or are you saying that I’m not paying you enough?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” he fired back. “This was a decision that I made, and I don’t require your approval. Don’t forget your place.”

“My place? I thought I was your daughter and colleague but apparently I’m just another employee.” Aubrey shot out of her chair and started yelling at her father about all the work she put into their company. Meanwhile, Sofia ran to Lillian’s side, sobbing as she cursed at Logan.

The room was chaos. Even the waitstaff had disappeared.

This was no place for my daughter.

I kept Charlie’s hand and stood from my chair. Logan grabbed for me, but I slid free. With a nod to Joan as she mouthed, Sorry, I took my daughter straight out of the room.

We wasted no time escaping the dining room or the house. I opened the first door that led to the patio, breathing in the freedom of the night air.

I swung Charlie’s hand at my side as we walked down the pathway to the guesthouse. “That wasn’t much fun, was it?”

“No.” She scuffled her feet. “They didn’t like me.”

When I heard her sniffle, I stopped and bent in front of her, catching a tear with my thumb, holding back tears of my own.

“I love you, Charlie. Just the way you are. Who cares what those mean people think?”

She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her free hand. “Do I have to cut my hair?”

I pulled out her headband, setting her brown strands free. There was nothing wrong with her hair. It was thick and soft and hung long down her back. Millions of little girls would love to have her hair.

“Of course not.”

“Good,” she whispered. “Can we go home now, Mommy?”

“Pretty soon. We’re almost done with this place.” I stood back up and kicked off my nude heels. “Let’s forget about dinner and have fun. Take off your shoes.”

“Why?” she asked as she kicked them off.

“Because we’re going to have a race. Guess what I saw in the freezer earlier when I was poking around?”

She handed me her shoes. “What?”

“Ice cream. The first person back to the house gets to pick the flavor.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she shot off the path, running as fast as she could through the grass. I laughed and did the same. She was giggling as she ran, looking over her shoulder to make sure I wasn’t too close.

Her precious smile lit up her face.

Logan had asked me what I wanted last night. It was simple: a happy child.

I loved that Charlie was wild. I loved that she ran free. New York and Logan’s family might kill her untamed spirit. I couldn’t risk her suffocating here.

So I was taking her home.