Chapter Six: The Christmas Card

She was older now, but then, so were they. The difference was, they had let themselves get soft during the past decade. She hadn't. She was ready. Watching.

Watching the Vaughns' gorgeous son Jack, pleased with the distance that seemed to exist between him and his parents. Their attitude toward one another since he'd returned home for Christmas break had been more congenial than she would have liked, but no matter. He was asking questions of Sydney and Michael, was curious about their pasts. Well, she'd be happy to tell him anything he wanted to know. If he played his cards right.

And precious Emily. Daddy's good little girl gone bad. Beautiful. Brilliant. Almost certain to be sleeping with that handsome older boyfriend of hers by the year's end. It was sweet, the way her daddy seemed determined to preserve his little princess's innocence, but he really shouldn't have bothered. Emily would find a way to do whatever she wanted; she was, after all, her mother's child. Her mother, who had wheedled her way into the Organization and taken the whole thing apart as if it were nothing. Her accomplishments would have been quite admirable. If they hadn't cost so many others so much.

Nevertheless, there were probably many who would have loved to have Sydney Vaughn as an ally, especially if the alternative was having her as a nemesis. She was strong. Smart. Capable. Her husband wasn't bad, either, though it could be argued that his greatest asset was his uncommonly gorgeous face.

Well, Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn had had their chance, and they had blown it. There was one woman they would never have as an ally again, and like Sydney, she was not someone you wanted as an enemy.

She wouldn't kill them. Well, she would if it came down to that, but it wasn't her intention. Death would be too kind for them. No, what they deserved was to suffer, and to watch, as she had watched for the past decade. Watch as everything they had built up crumbled around them. Watch as their beautiful children grew into people they despised.

Her plan was put into action with a simple little note. A simple sentence on a Christmas card, sent through the mail like so many other messages were each day. I can tell you what you want to know.

And, of course, it included a signature. One simple word that meant one thing to many, but held a completely different connotation for Jack Vaughn.

Grandma.

___________________

Emily Vaughn made her appearance in the kitchen earlier than her mother had predicted she would, but late enough that her parents had already left for the restaurant. She stepped into the kitchen tentatively, as if afraid one of them was lurking around, waiting to surprise her.

"They're gone, Emily," Jack told her, rolling his eyes at her skittish demeanor.

"Thank God," Emily said, collapsing into a kitchen chair dramatically. "Have you seen them? Did they say anything about me being grounded?"

"They sure did," Jack said with a smirk.

"Damn it," Emily said. To Jack's surprise, angry tears actually sprung to her brown eyes. "Dad's so unfair. Mom was pretty cool about everything for awhile, but now she's just going along with whatever he says."

Jack sighed. Should he tell her what he knew? Put an end to her pouting? "I think Mom still has some influence," he admitted. "You're going to be grounded for a week, but then you can see Keith again."

"Really?" Emily cried.

"Really," Jack confirmed.

"Oh, Jack!" Jack winced as his sister jumped up and threw her arms around him. "Oh, wait, though," she said, loosening her grip on him. "A week? Do you think that means I'll be free for New Year's Eve, or that New Year's Eve will be the last day I'm grounded?"

"I have no idea, Emily," Jack rolled his eyes. He watched as she counted the days off on her fingers.

"I should be free New Year's Eve," she determined. "I f they count today, the 30th will be the seventh day. They'll count today, right? Why wouldn't they count today?"

"They'll probably count today," Jack said, drumming his fingers on the table. Talking to her could be so annoying sometimes.

"Oh, this is so great!" Emily squealed. She was the only person Jack knew who actually squealed. "I have to go call Keith!"

"Wait, Emily," Jack protested. "I don't know if you're supposed to be using the phone, since you're grounded."

"You're such a goody-goody," Emily rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious, Emily," Jack frowned. "Don't call him till you talk to Mom and Dad, and act surprised when they tell you that you can see him again. I don't know if I was supposed to tell you that part."

"Fine," Emily sighed, settling back into her own chair. She frowned, eyeing Jack thoughtfully.

"What?" Jack asked.

"Didn't Dad catch you making out with Katie Miller that one time?"

Jack winced at the memory. "Yeah. That was so embarrassing."

"What did he do?" Emily asked, leaning forward with interest.

"He said it was time for her to go home, and then--" Ooh. This memory only got worse. "He came to my room that night and gave me this talk about being nice to her, and respectful of her feelings, and I think he actually used the word protection."

"Oh, no," Emily giggled.

Jack smirked. "Yeah. And the most pathetic thing about it was that I'd already been sleeping with her for like a month."

Emily smiled. "Daddy's totally out of touch with reality," she said, but Jack caught the fondness in her voice.

"Totally," Jack agreed. "He's a good guy, though."

"Yeah."

Both sat in silence for a long moment. Jack, of course, was thinking of the conversation he'd had with his mother that morning. If he found out more about his father, would he still be able to think of him as such a good guy?

"I'll bet the mail's here," Emily announced, springing up from the table. Jack nodded absent-mindedly.

"Letter for you, Jackie," she announced, tossing a red envelope onto the table in front of him.

"Me?" Jack asked in surprise. "I don't even really live here." But sure enough, the envelope was addressed to him. There was no return address, but the postmark was local. Delia, he thought suddenly, irrationally. He could see her sending a Christmas card as a peace offering. That was just something she would do. He tore into the envelope eagerly, flipping open the card to find--

Well, not a letter from Delia, that was for sure.

"Emily," he breathed. "You're never going to believe this."