Part 30 (1/2)
When they made it to the entrance hall, GP was staring at a painting in deep thought. The painting was of a nun cradling her deformed infant.
Suzette stood beside him. ”This piece is called Sister Francine's Baby Sister Francine's Baby. All of these paintings came from the Parousia collection. Sister Francine's Baby Sister Francine's Baby is estimated to be worth eighty-thousand, as well as these.” She gestured toward the remaining paintings. is estimated to be worth eighty-thousand, as well as these.” She gestured toward the remaining paintings.
GP looked at Kitchie. ”Do you like it?”
”The painting or the house?”
”Both.”
”I've always been a fan of T. Clary's artwork, but I'm in love with this house.”
He turned to Suzette. ”We'll take it.”
”Nine thousand square feet is a lot of house. What do you plan on doing with it?”
”This is where my family and I are gonna enjoy life.”
Later that afternoon, GP met with Nancy Pittman in her downtown office. ”Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” He sat in a comfortable leather chair facing her desk.
”What brings you here?”
”I'm in a position now where I can help someone else out.”
”Congratulations. I've been following your story in the paper.”
”Thank you. Samone and Denise. I want them to come and live with us.”
”I'm afraid that won't be possible. Samone Jefferson is no longer in the care of the state. Her sister turned eighteen and came for her. Denise Holcut is another story. She's a troubled kid who's more than likely going to move from group home to jail. I hate to say it, but I've seen it before. I'm not sure you want to invite the problem she's bound to bring into your home.”
”So you're willing to throw her away and let jail be her fate? You're not even willing to offer her a more constructive alternative?”
”All I'm saying is that she's been around. Denise has the body of a little girl, but she was forced to grow up a long time ago. If I were you, I wouldn't want her around my children. You're asking for trouble.”
He fixed her with a stern look. ”I know Denise's kind better than your files, statistics, and reports. I used to be her and look how I turned out. I don't deserve a n.o.bel Prize or no s.h.i.+t like that, but I'm a decent man. I have values and I'm integrity-driven. All Denise needs is someone who is willing to direct her energy in a positive direction. She just needs someone who will love her. My family and I are willing to do that. Will you deny us that?”
”If you insist on planting a weed in your garden, I'll do the paperwork. I think it's a bad idea, though.”
”She isn't a weed. Her flower is just taking a little longer to blossom than others.”
”Have it your way, Mr. Patterson.”
Aubrey Stevens shut his computer off and was preparing to leave the bank for the day.
A stout man who worked in the mailroom poked his head inside the office. ”Looks like I caught you in the nick of time. I have a package here for you.” He sat the box on the desk and left.
Aubrey searched the package for a return address. There wasn't one. He laid his suit jacket over the arm of his chair and began to tear the packaging tape from the box. He opened the box and saw a typed letter sitting on top of bundles of money. He took the letter, sank in his chair, and began to read.
Mr. Stevens: I made a very large withdrawal from your fine bank some time ago. Once again, I'd like to thank you. Without your a.s.sistance, it would not have been possible for me to repair my life.
Enclosed you will find the entire $670,000 withdrawal, plus the current interest. Please forgive me for the scare I caused you. Unfortunately, sometimes push comes to shove.
Mr. Wagoner It had been a month since the Pattersons' lives had taken a turn for the best. Kitchie stood in her stainless steel and marble kitchen, gazing through the window at Junior zipping through the backyard. She went out on the patio and waved him over.
The minibike rushed toward Kitchie. Its engine became louder as it approached the house. Junior mashed the rear brake, sending the minibike into a three-foot skid. He took the helmet off. ”Huh, Ma?”
”Do you have to ride that thing like that? You don't have to go so fast, boy.”
”Wait until I learn how to pop a wheelie.”
”And that's exactly when I'm gonna make you ride a regular bike. So my advice to you is keep both tires on the ground.”
”Okay.”
”Turn it off and come inside. Your father just came in with Secret's present, and the show will be on in twenty minutes.”
”Okay, Ma, one more spin.”
”Park it and come inside now.”
Junior put the kickstand down and turned the engine off.
GP carried a large box with a blue ribbon attached to it down a corridor on the house's left wing. The corridor led to a state-of-the-art theater room with the seating capacity of forty-eight. He set the box down and poked his head into the theater and overheard Secret and Nise talking.
Nise lounged in a theater chair next to Secret. ”Would you feel some type of way if I called GP and Mrs. P. Mom and Dad?”
Secret stared for a moment. ”We all agreed to invite you into our family. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to think I was a punk and being all mushy. But that day you helped Junior and me, you became my sister for life. I told all my friends you're my sister. You're family, so if you're comfortable with Mom Mom and and Dad Dad, I don't mind.”
Nise reached over and hugged her. ”That means a lot to me. Thanks. I never had a mom or dad or a little sister or brother.”
”Yeah, it's weird. I've always been Junior's big sister; now I have a big sister. None of that bullying stuff, though.”
”s.h.i.+t...I mean shoot. I learned my lesson a long time ago. I got a tough little sister. So what are we gonna do for the weekend when Samone comes to visit?”
Secret crossed her legs. ”Ma said we can have an all-girl's day. Go shopping at the mall and get our hair done.”
”What are you going to wear? I'm thinking about rocking my new Claiborne outfit with those Nine West shoes your mother picked out.”
”Our mother.”
Nise smiled.
”That'll be tight, though,” Secret said. ”I might wear Burberry from head to toe. I don't know yet; I might decide to wear something else from my wardrobe.”
Kitchie tapped GP on the shoulder. ”Eavesdropping on the girls?”
GP shut the door. ”No. Well, kind of.” He looked at Junior. ”What's wrong with you?”