“Your father should have thought of all of this before he decided to cause trouble for me.”
Why did this man have to act as though he was the innocent party here? If it weren’t for his actions on that fateful night, her father wouldn’t have bothered him. Angry accusations bubbled up within her and hovered at the back of her throat. It would be so easy to lose her cool—to tell this man exactly what she thought of him, which wasn’t much.
What good would that do her? Yes, it’d temporarily make her feel better.
But in the long term, would it do anything to help her father? Definitely not.
Gaby’s jaw muscles clenched. Her back teeth ground together.
“If that’s all, I must go.”
“It’s not all.” He wasn’t getting off that easy. “My father was doing what he thought was best for my aunt.”
“What does your aunt have to do with this? Or was she one of those misguided people that he coerced into shouting lies and throwing garbage onto my property?”
Gaby wasn’t going to let this man go on about her father and aunt. Did he really not know who her father was? “My aunt wasn’t outside your house. She—she died in the car accident.”
There was a swift intake of breath as though at last he understood the gravity of the situation. A long silence ensued. Was it possible she’d finally gotten through to him?
Still, she didn’t breathe easy—not yet. In just the short period of time that she’d spoken with this man, she’d learned that he didn’t change his mind easily. And yet, she couldn’t give up.
* * *
Every muscle in his body tensed.
Deacon Santoro didn’t utter a word as he processed this new piece of information. How was this the first he’d heard of the woman in the accident having a family?
He searched his impaired memory for an answer. And then he latched on to the vital information. The police had said the woman had no family—no living parents, no ex-spouses and no children. Just a surviving brother. Deacon had never thought to ask about nieces and nephews.
Deacon swallowed hard. “You’re her niece?”
“Yes. My name’s Gaby.”
“As in Gabrielle?”
“Yes. My aunt was the only one who called me G
abrielle.”
Take care of Gabrielle.
Those words haunted him each night in his short and troubled sleep. Until now, he’d never understood what they meant. He didn’t know anyone named Gabrielle. But suddenly a jagged piece of a memory from the accident came back to him. It wasn’t an image but rather a voice. The woman from the accident had told him to take care of her niece.
And it was his chance to make sure the woman’s final words were fulfilled. The need to help Gabrielle was overwhelming. But how? He needed time to absorb this revelation—to form a viable plan.
Deacon cleared his throat. “I didn’t know she was your aunt. No one told me.”
“Now you can understand my father’s actions. He’s grieving for his younger sister. He isn’t thinking clearly.”
“But that still doesn’t make up for what he’s cost me.” Thanks to her father, another in a string of employees had quit. And thanks to the negative publicity, associates were shying away from doing business with him.
“I will do whatever I can to make this right.”
He applauded her for trying to clean up a mess that wasn’t hers. “How much are you talking about?”
“You want money?” Her voice took on a note of distress.
No. He had enough of his own, but he didn’t want this conversation to end—not until he knew a bit more about this woman. “You did offer to make things right and I lost a lot of money when two promising business ventures fell through thanks to your father’s actions.”