Melinda gave him a cursory hug and introduced him to Tony. “Sorry to drag you back to the big, bad city, my shaggy brother, but we had some excitement and I figured you’d want a piece of the action.”
Manvel shook his head. “Action’s not my thing. This is all for you, sis.”
Melinda purred with delight. “Well, thank you for that.”
“No thanks necessary. I knew you would’ve showed up in Montgomery and drawn my blood yourself if I didn’t do your bidding.”
“You know me so well. Now here we are, together again. About to get the results that tell us if we’re rich, or really rich.”
The receptionist spoke, her voice a whispered rebuke. “He’ll see you now.”
The group awkwardly maneuvered through the door of Fred’s office in order of rank: Melinda, Tony, Manvel, then Bailey.
“Uncle Jack?”
Bailey’s father sat in the same chair Bailey had been in a few weeks ago. He was dressed in the suit he’d worn at her mother’s funeral, including the tie that Bailey had chosen for him in tears, trying to avoid looking at her mother’s clothes in her parents’ walk-in closet.
Melinda looked over at Fred. “What’s going on?”
Bailey gnawed at her thumbnail, a childish habit she’d thought she’d shaken. Her father was here, so he must’ve done what she’d asked. But why? This made no sense.
“Please, take a seat, everyone,” directed Fred.
Bailey hunkered down into a love seat against the wall, feeling like an impostor, while Melinda took the chair next to Bailey’s father. Tony perched on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed, and Manvel stood near the door, as if eager to escape as soon as he possibly could.
“Why is Uncle Jack here?” demanded Melinda.
Fred cleared his throat before answering. “I wanted to make sure all parties were present.”
“‘All parties’?”
“I hope everyone will keep in mind that while we have some answers, this matter is far from settled, as the provenance of the sheath is murky, to say the least. Others may come forward and try to claim it, as well as the knife.”
“What others?” asked Melinda.
“The Tibetan government, descendants of anyone who might have owned it before it came into the Rutherfords’ possession, for example.”
Tony waved his hand. “That was hundreds of years ago. Never mind about that. What are the test results?”
Fred opened up a file on his desk and then peered at them over his reading glasses. “The lab in England did extensive testing on the finger bone and what they could of the blood residue. The genetic line was then traced using yDNA technology, meaning along the male line. If there was no match, the sheath would not be considered part of the Camden family estate and would become property of the Dakota cooperative.”
“Right, and what did you find out?” Melinda spoke to him as if he were twelve.
Fred looked up from his notes. “The co-op has no claim to the sheath.”
Melinda yelped. “Fantastic. I knew Renzo was talking bullshit. Now we can have him fired.” She turned around to Bailey. “I know you like him, but he should never have meddled. He’s toast.”
“Not so fast.” Fred held up one hand and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his silk tie. “It’s not your property either, Melinda.”
“What the hell does that mean? Whose is it, then?”
Fred looked straight at Bailey. “It’s Jack Camden’s.”
Melinda swiveled around and regarded Bailey and Jack the way a python might a mouse. “They weren’t part of the testing process.”
“As a matter of fact, Jack was.” Fred turned the paper on his desk around so she could see the results. “And Jack Camden is a match to both the blood evidence and the bone.”
Bailey felt like she was sinking into quicksand, and not just because the couch seemed to be swallowing her whole.
“That was not part of the deal,” Melinda screeched. She turned to Jack, eyes bulging. “How the hell did your blood get added to the test results?”
“What did you do?” Tony glared at Bailey.
Bailey squirmed forward and tried to sit upright, but the cushion on the love seat was too soft. She sank back and tried to find her voice. “I told Fred what I’d found. He said that it had to be done through the male line, so I asked my dad. But he said no.”
Fred jumped in. “As a matter of fact, this was not entirely Bailey’s doing. I was intrigued by the evidence she presented, and it led me to review the old files. As we’ve represented the family for over a hundred years, the archived documents were still in existence. I discovered a letter in the files, dated from 1900, from Minnie Camden, stating that she wished to set up an annuity for Christopher Camden when he turned twenty-one. But she died before it was established.”
Christopher had been considered part of the family. He hadn’t been intentionally cast out. Bailey let out a deep exhale, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.
Fred continued on. “That, along with the evidence presented by Bailey, convinced me to request a DNA sample from her father for testing.”
She stared at the back of Jack’s head. He’d done it after all. She wished he’d turn around and look at her so she could get a sense of what he was thinking. Was he still furious with her for foisting the truth on him?
Melinda’s nostrils flared. “We did not agree to pay for that. You were not allowed to pay for this scavenger hunt with money from the trust.”
“I paid for it myself.” Jack’s deep baritone rumbled around the room like thunder. Bailey remembered that voice, the one he used when neighbors stopped by to give their condolences after her mother had died. He’d sent them away, casseroles in hand, while Bailey hid up in her room.
Yet Fred’s announcement couldn’t be right. If Melinda and Bailey were related, both sides of the family would match. If Bailey wasn’t related to Theodore Camden, Melinda would match and Jack would not. Those were the only outcomes Bailey had considered.
“You bitch.” Melinda looked like she was about to swallow Bailey whole.
“That’s enough, now.” Fred jabbed a finger at the papers on his desk. “You signed a document to abide by the results. There was nothing amiss.”
Melinda’s oversized hoop earrings swung with each turn of her head: to Bailey, then back to Fred. “So now Bailey and her father get the sheath?”
Bailey didn’t care about the sheath. She’d wanted to be part of a legacy, to feel some connection with her past.
Still, it was worth it to see the look on Tony and Melinda’s faces. Take that for desecrating the family apartment.
Tony went white. “This isn’t only about the sheath, though, is it?”
The earrings swung again, in Tony’s direction. “What do you mean?”
“This means that Bailey and her father get the trust. Not you or Manvel.”
Melinda leaped up, towering over them all in her four-inch heels. “That’s not true. I’m the great-granddaughter of Theodore Camden. Manvel and I are due our trust in two days, when we turn thirty. That’s the way it’s always been. This doesn’t change anything.”
Fred spoke succinctly, clearly. “This changes everything. The trust states that it’s solely for descendants of Theodore Camden by blood. Neither you nor Manvel are. Therefore, it’s no longer your rightful property, Miss Camden.”
Bailey looked over at Manvel, who had a wide grin on his face. He seemed amused by the turn of events. Or at least at his sister’s indignation.
“Who am I, then?” Melinda looked blindly around the room. “If Theodore Camden isn’t my great-grandfather, who the hell is?”
Fred refused to rise to her level of aggression. “Sometimes we don’t know the answers. It was a long time ago.”
Melinda squawked a few times before finding her voice. “We will fight this. Won’t we, Tony? We’ll hire a lawyer and fight this. I don’t care what I signed or what the DNA says. I know who I am.”