Part 27 (1/2)

Not only has Stella come armed with a notebook filled with every detail imaginable about Ronnie, but more important, ever since Jackson first decided to bring Ronnie out here, Betty has been telling the little girl that Uncle Jackson is her daddy, and that very soon a court will give them a piece of paper to make it official. In the meantime, Betty's said, Ronnie gets to go live in a city with a beach.

She made what could have been scary seem like an adventure, and I will be forever grateful.

We didn't want to overwhelm the little girl, but we did want to celebrate, and so we've laid out a spread of chicken strips and pizza and invited a few friends to come join. Charles and Harriet have already stopped by and left, and I'm guessing that this newest arrival is Ca.s.s and Siobhan.

I follow Ronnie to the entrance hall and see that I'm right.

”I'm Ronnie,” the little girl announces to Ca.s.s. ”And that's my daddy and my aunt Sylvia.”

”I know,” Ca.s.s says. ”She's my best friend. I guess that makes us friends, too, huh?” She's looking down at Ronnie and speaking with such comfortable a.s.surance that I'm both impressed and intimidated. I still feel a bit like I'm putting on an act when I talk with her. As if I'm only playing the role of aunt or mother, but not really living the part.

”I'm Ca.s.s, by the way. And this is Siobhan.”

Ronnie contemplates Ca.s.s, her bow-like mouth puckering, then looks up at Siobhan. ”Do you like dogs?”

”Are you kidding?” Siobhan says. ”Dogs are awesome.”

”Aunt Sylvia says you have a dog,” Ca.s.s adds. ”Can we meet him?”

Ronnie glances at me, and I nod, and she takes off running. ”Come on!”

Ca.s.s shoots me an amused glance. ”We'll be back,” she says and they hurry to Ronnie's room. Fred's tucked away there in his crate, the king of Ronnie's newly redecorated princess-themed room, courtesy of Nikki and Damien, who managed the overhaul in just a few hours.

”You doing okay?” Jackson asks, sliding his arm around my waist as we walk back into the living room to join Nikki and Damien.

I'm not sure if he's talking about the situation with my dad or settling in to having a little girl around, but right now, either answer is the same.

”I'm great,” I say, bending to snag a piece of pepperoni pizza from the box on the coffee table. ”You're free. Ronnie's here and she's happy. Fred's housebroken. And my resort is safe because my architect can get back to work.” I flash a smile to Jackson and Damien in turn. ”I'm not even worried about the investors who've pulled out because I am going to burn up the phone lines and find new investors on Monday.”

”Actually, you're not.” Damien glances at Jackson. ”It's covered.”

I look between the two of them, confused.

”I talked with Damien earlier,” Jackson explains. ”Why should I ask someone to gamble on a project that I'm not willing to gamble on myself? And, frankly, I don't consider it a risk. I think we'll end up filthy, stinking rich.”

”You're already rich,” I say. ”But I know how much the shares cost, and, Jackson, that's a serious chunk of change. Are you that liquid?”

”We are now,” he says, and I feel a nice warm flush from the way he pulls me into that equation. ”I'm going to talk to Isaac Winn about selling him my thirty percent interest in the Winn Buildingthe portion that's not part of Ronnie's trustand buying out the rest of the Cortez shares.”

”Jackson! You're sure?” The Winn Building represents a landmark in his career. I can't believe he'd want to let go of it so completely.

He lifts a shoulder as if this had been nothing more than a casual decision. ”I'm familiar with all the relevant players. I think it's a sound investment.”

”It is,” I say. ”The resort is going to kick vacation and leisure a.s.s and make us a huge profit. But, Jackson, that was the first building you kept an owners.h.i.+p interest in. You really want to get out altogether?”

”Sylvia has a point,” Damien says. ”And thirty percent is steep. Especially to sacrifice on a property like Winn that has the potential for serious growth.”

Jackson's eyes are on me. ”I think Cortez has a similar potential.”

”I agree with you,” Damien says. ”And that's why I have a suggestion.”

We both turn to him.

”Sell Isaac a fifteen percent interest in Winn. I'll cover the difference personally.”

I gape, then realize my mouth is hanging open. ”But you never do that.” He's wildly protective of his personal a.s.sets. In fact, when the investors first made noises about pulling out after we lost our original architect, Damien had specifically declined to invest personally.

”Never's a very long time,” Damien says as he looks straight at Jackson. ”And this time, I think it's worth the risk.”

”Honestly, so much has happened my head is spinning,” Ca.s.s says. She and I are in the huge guest bedroom that Jackson and I will be sharing. We've snuck away from the festivities for a quick BFF catch-up session. ”I'm surprised you're still clinging to sanity.” She narrows her eyes. ”You are still sane, aren't you?”

I roll my eyes, then perch on the edge of the bed. ”As sane as I was before. But that's not saying much.”

Ca.s.s only grins, then starts counting out on her fingers. ”Engaged. Small child. Non-felonious fiance. And a father who's confessed to committing murder. There's more, I'm sure, but that covers the high points. Seriously,” she says more gently. ”Are you doing okay?”

”I am,” I say. ”Jackson being free trumps everything.”

”True that. But” She scrunches up her face as if she's caught a whiff of something unpleasant. ”I mean, your dad. It's kind of freaky. Have you talked with Ethan?”

I shake my head. ”I left him a voice mail to call me. I think he gets back from Mexico today. And since he can't go see Dad yet anyway, I didn't want to worry him.”

”Are you going to go see your dad?”

”I don't know. And, honestly, I don't want to think about it. Or talk about it, for that matter. Not forever. Just not today. Because there's nothing I can do anyway, and tonight is about Jackson being free and getting Ronnie. Okay?”

”You'll call me if you need me?”

”Duh.”

She laughs. ”Fair enough. You're off the hook for now. But . . .” She trails off, making the face again.

I shake my head, and force myself not to smile. ”What?”

”Ronnie's entirely precious. And you seem really good with her.”

I frown. ”I shouldn't have said anything to you. I completely adore her, and Jackson is floating.” All of that is true. What I don't say is that I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm a character in Barney or some other kids' show, just playing the part of the grown-up. And while I want to step out of the role, I can't. Because what's my fallback persona? The girl who grew up with my parents? Without a script, I'll be swinging without a net. Yet with a script, it doesn't seem quite real.

But I tell myself this is all new. And since I really love Jackson and I really love Ronnie, I can make it all work.

I tell myself that. But I'm not certain that I believe it.

”So when's the paternity hearing, anyway?” Ca.s.s stands up and starts for the door, and I follow, understanding that this is her way of changing the subject. And, yeah, I'm grateful.

”Next week,” I say. ”We'll have to pop out to Santa Fe, but we'll only be gone for a day or two.”

”And the wedding?”