Chapter 6 - Shadows on the Lawn
I spent the afternoon upstairs with Lily, sitting on her bed, helping her assemble a puzzle of a snow-covered cottage. Her tiny hands were steady now, but every time a floorboard creaked downstairs, her shoulders tensed, her big green eyes darting toward the closed bedroom door.
"Mommy, did Grandma mean what she said about the angel?" Lily asked suddenly, her voice smaller than a whisper. She held up the crumpled piece of gold foil paper she had rescued from the trash the night before.
I reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "No, my sweet girl. Grandma was wrong. She was blinded by her own anger, and when people are sick with anger, they say ugly, broken things. Your angel is beautiful because you made it with love. That's the only thing that matters."
Lily nodded slowly, leaning her head against my shoulder. "Can we keep it on the tree?"
"We’re going to keep it forever," I promised, kissing the crown of her head.
While Lily rested, I went downstairs to find Daniel on the phone in the study. His jaw was clenched so hard the muscles jumped under his skin.
"Understood. We’ll be ready," he said, hanging up the receiver. He turned to me, his expression grim. "Sterling isn't waiting until noon tomorrow. Jason's contact at the courthouse confirmed that Sterling filed an emergency lien against the colonial house two hours ago. Furthermore, he knows the bakery is shuttered. He sent two men to inspect the property."
Before I could answer, headlights swept across our living room curtains.
A sleek, black SUV had pulled up directly to the curb outside our driveway. The engine idled, sending plumes of white exhaust curling into the freezing twilight. Two men in heavy trench coats stepped out, neither of them looking like ordinary townsfolk. One held a leather-bound clipboard; the other stood by the edge of our driveway, staring directly up at our front windows.
"Are they here for Carol?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Worse," Daniel said quietly, walking toward the hall closet to grab his coat. "They know she’s staying here. Sterling is sending a message. He wants us to know he knows where we sleep."
My father met us in the hall, holding a heavy wooden walking cane. His knuckles were white. "Let me go out there. This started because of my weakness, Emma. For thirty years, I looked the other way because I was afraid of her screaming. I let her run our lives into ruin. I won't let her bring thugs to your front door."
"No, Dad," I said, putting a hand on his arm. "We handle this together. But Carol doesn't get to hide behind us."
I marched straight into the living room, grabbing Carol by the elbow and forcing her to stand. "Look out that window, Carol. Look at what your lies bought us."
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Carol peered through the blinds, saw the black SUV, and let out a strangled whimper. "Oh God... Richard Sterling warned me he’d come for the heirlooms if I defaulted."
"You have ten minutes to write down every single asset, account, and secret transaction you’ve made in the last ten years," I said, cold fury radiating from every syllable. "Or I walk out to that car right now, hand them your keys, and let them take you to court for grand larceny and forgery."