It was raining in Wisconsin, the kind of cold rain that drilled through clothing and got into the bones of a person. The director of St. Andrew's home for the elderly, Dr. Gertrude Smith, was already sick of the rain. She was cold through to her skin as she hung up her dripping coat and headed for the pile of work on her desk.
She shoved it aside for the coroners report in her hand. Nicholas Richards had died of pneumonia early this morning at the age of 76. Though she always hated to see anyone die alone, his death wasn't bothering her the way it should. When her residents died she usually felt like she had lost a friend, this one was different. Gertrude told herself it was all right. It didn't make her any less of a person not to miss the monster that was Nicholas Richards.
Audrey, her head nurse, leaned against the wall and read her boss's mind without asking a question. Nicholas had been her charge since he had arrived. Only Audrey's years of training and her saintly demeanor had made her patient enough to deal with his constant demands.
"Does Mr. Richards even have a next-of-kin listed?" Audrey asked gently, wondering what poor soul was misfortunate enough to be related to him.
"He doesn't have any family listed besides his wife Alice. She's been dead more then twenty years." Gertrude replied with a frown. "We've always received full payment for his treatments and generous donations from an address in California. It says here it's a business address, maybe the police can sort this out for us."
Gertrude picked up the phone and started to dial operator assistance, while she asked for the number of the Sunset Beach police department; Audrey picked up the open file and studied it.
Nicholas Richards had been a resident of St. Andrew's for the last 16 years. Before that he had lived alone. His wife Alice, the only person he ever spoke of with less then contempt, had died of a heart condition in the late sixties. Audrey had worked with Alzheimer's patients most of her life, and she thought she had seen enough heartbreaking stories to no longer be surprised.
Since his admission sixteen years ago, Nicholas was an exception. As the disease ate away at his personality, it seemed to leave only the harshest parts of his soul. Instead of slipping quietly into that good night, Nicholas grew more ornery, more selfish and more arrogant as his disease progressed. During his second year at the home, he had tried to beat a male doctor to death, calling him Gregory as he tried to bash his head in. After that, only female assistants were allowed near him because every young man he saw was 'Gregory'.
"You're still too good for me, aren't you Gregory?" "Always the arrogant son-of-a-bitch aren't you Gregory?" "Gregory's here again to tell his old man how much smarter he is, how much better he is then me."
Audrey heard every insult again and again as Nicholas' mind slipped away. As Nicholas' condition progressed, she became the only person who he would ever speak too at all. Desperately curious to find the identity of 'Gregory' Audrey had once sneaked a look at his dead wife Alice's diaries while Nicholas was sleeping. Reading Alice's words had finally explained that Gregory was their son, Nicholas' only living relative. "The tragic truth of it is that Gregory won't be safe until Nicholas is dead. I know I could never protect him and I only hope someday he manages to forgive me." That thought remained in her mind still; Alice's last thoughts on her sad life.
Audrey brushed a tear out of her eye and shook herself out of her reverie. Dr. Smith hung up the phone and turned to her head nurse with a pained smile. "I thought you'd like to know that we've finally found Gregory. He's in California. The Sunset Beach police station is sending a deputy over now to tell him about his parents."
"Will he come here?" Audrey asked softly as she wondered what she could possibly say to the man who had suffered so much at the hands of his father.
Dr. Smith shrugged and closed the file. "I don't know. We'll have Nicholas cremated and the chapel will keep his ashes until Gregory decides what he wants."
"I wouldn't blame him if he told us to pour him over the dump. I'd even do it personally."
The harsh words from her nurse drew a raised eyebrow from the director of St. Andrew's, but as she thought about it, she nodded in agreement. "I'd go with you."
Gregory Richards was just getting ready to leave when the doorbell chimed brightly. Rose was upstairs, so he answered it to save her the trouble.
The sunshine illuminated the smiling face of Bette, who winked at him as he ushered her in. "I know the punctuality is a surprise, but I've never wanted to be on your bad side. In fact, I never even want to see your bad side."
His smile surprised him a little, but Bette's odd humor was often a little infectious. "I suppose I was a bit short with you when I asked you over."
"I prefer summoned." Bette teased as she patted his shoulder. "But, never with argue with the King if you like your head, that's what I always say."
Gregory suppressed a dry chuckle. The mental picture of him ordering beheadings was oddly appealing; however, that was not the business of the day. "Won't you come in?"
Bette was already to the coffee pot and pouring herself a cup. "Did I ever tell you that your coffee's almost as good as Elaine's?"
"Not that I recall." Gregory poured himself a cup and headed for the study. "I have a proposition for you Bette."
Bette laughed easily and winked at him as she settled into his chair behind the beautiful wooden desk. "I'm flattered, but I make it a point of honor never to take anything from a friend."
"I'll pass along the good news to Olivia." He deadpanned as he pulled over the chair from the corner. Putting them both on the same level, he dropped his voice to his most sincere tone. "It's a business proposition."
Bette took a sip of coffee and waved for him to continue. "I'm listening."
"Joanie Hartwell had to take an extended leave of absence, and I suddenly find myself short a gossip columnist."
Bette choked a bit on her coffee. "What happened to Joanie Hartwell?"
"I guess you haven't seen today's paper." Gregory pointed to his copy of the Sentinel on the desk in front of them, "Third page."
As she exchanged coffee for the article, Gregory watched the emotional progression on her face; curiosity, amusement, indignation, and then quiet mortification as she looked back at him. The headline summed up the spirit of the article. "Sauced by Seven Am. Olivia Richards is out unadorned and obviously out of her mind"
Bette whistled quietly. "Which ocean did you throw her in?"
"She must have believed I would never see it. Right after my secretary told her I had read the article, she requested some personal time and was packed up before I came down to her office. "
Bette set down the paper and shuddered. "I would have been too. I can't believe she wrote that."
"Of course, it matters little what she says about me. It's Olivia I worry about. She's worked so hard to overcome her drinking for the children." Gregory turned the paper towards him and coolly looked it over again. "Thankfully, she hasn't seen this. I was going to ask Miss Hartwell simply to print an apology, but-" He set the paper down with a dubious sneer. "She was already gone. Leaving me in a very awkward position I might add."
"What's the contract look like?" Bette asked cautiously while she tried to avoid imagining what Joanie's dismissal had actually been like.
"Since you'd be taking the position as a personal favor to me, I'm willing to add 5 to Miss Hartwell's last salary package, plus both travel and personal expenses. You'd be generously covered under the standard Liberty Medical package as well. You write two columns, one preview on Thursday and a run-down of the weekend's activities on Monday. You will have complete freedom to write whatever you wish, with one small exception."
Bette finished his thought- "Olivia."
"She's never really been comfortable being in the spotlight. I need someone I know will protect her. Someone with tact."
Bette erupted into good-natured laughter. "I know how hard it was to tell me I have tact," she extended her hand across the desk and shook his firmly. "I'll start today."
Gregory smiled and a trace of real warmth crept into it. "Thank you Bette. I'm relieved to have someone with your skill in the subject. Since you're already behind on the research for your first column, I thought I'd give you a head start."
He stood and crossed the drawer at her right hand. Opening it, he pulled out a neatly typed list of names and a gold embossed envelope. "These are the guests for the charity event Ben Evans and I are hosting this weekend and your invitation. If you stop at Liberty's offices, my secretary will give you your company credit card. Don't make me look cheap."
She raised an eyebrow as she read over the guest list. "I'm sure I can come up with something appropriate to wear." She tucked the invitation into her purse and stopped mid-motion as she hit a familiar name on the bottom of the list. Bette looked up at him in shock- "Dr. Roger Baxter? It's not really him? It can't be him, after all these years…"
Gregory shut her purse for her and chuckled dryly. "Roger and his son Ethan will be spending some time in Sunset Beach. He asked about you."
Bette blushed and tried unsuccessfully to regain her composure. The doorbell rang for the second time that morning, and Gregory ignored it, Rose would be downstairs by now. He was still enjoying Bette's surprised silence when Rose cleared her throat to announce a new visitor.
"Detective Torres to see you sir," She explained quietly. Gregory left Bette to find her way out of her fantasy world, as Rose led him to the Detective who stood stiffly near the doorway in his dress blues.
"What can I do for you Detective?" Gregory asked as the Ricardo put out his hand.
"We just received a phone call from a St. Andrew's Nursing Home in Wisconsin. We've been told Nicholas Richards died this morning. My apologies sir," Ricardo had been forced to offer condolences many times in his life and he still wasn't sure what to expect from Gregory Richards. He had seen the man in court and often wondered if he had any real feelings at all.
Bette only needed a moment to recognize Ricardo's voice. She quietly left the study and stopped just behind Gregory's shoulder. The detective's professional courtesy was admirable. She had never heard of Nicholas Richards and thought for a moment he must be a distant relative. Then she noticed the way Gregory's entire posture changed. Every muscle in his back had suddenly become tight under his shirt. His left hand was balled into a fist. She half expected him to break something.
Whatever Ricardo imagined, it was entirely unlike the fierce emotion in Gregory's eyes. A terrifying anger played over his features for a moment, then the room grew cooler as he smiled. "Thank you. That's some of the best news I've had for awhile. Will you come in for a drink?"
Though he was puzzled, none of his confusion ruined Ricardo's professional courtesy. " Thank you sir, but I'm on duty." He reached into his pocket and removed a neatly folded piece of paper. "They left these numbers; one is for the nursing home and the other for the lawyer managing the estate." Gregory ignored him and went for the cabinet to pour himself a drink.
Bette held out her hand and Ricardo gave her the folded part with both numbers on it. "It is real sweet of you to come down here."
Ricardo stared after Gregory, but nodded to Bette out of habit. "All part of the service ma'am."
Bette brushed his chin with a finger and smiled sadly. "Ma'am..."
Ricardo replaced his hat on his head and turned to go. Gregory raised a glass to him and grinned icily again. "I thank you again detective. I'll have a drink for you."
Bette tucked the paper away in her pocket and winked to Ricardo. "Goodnight handsome." The dumbfounded detective escaped back to his patrol car.
Gregory filled a glass for Bette and handed it to her almost gleefully. "Have a drink with me Bette." He sniffed his brandy thoughtfully, "It's a shame I don't have any champagne."
"Isn't that a little excessive?" She asked gently, trying to decide if something had finally snapped in Gregory's predatory mind. "I know sharks eat their own kind, but he was-"
"My father," He downed his brandy and refilled his glass a little higher. "I guess that proves you right Bette, I really am spawned from the loins of the devil." He nudged her hand with his glass. "Drink, drink! I can't celebrate alone."
The eccentric blonde took a sip and made a face, "Can I get a nice merlot?"
Gregory cocked his head to her and laughed as he loosened his tie. "I think there may be some in the basement." Throwing his tie aside he headed for the kitchen entrance. "Rose!"
She appeared instantly in the doorway. "Yes Mr. Richards?"
"Call Grenadines, ask for the crest dining room at seven. We'll need champagne and see if they can get us lobster. Make the reservation for-" He paused to count in his head. "Six. Set out my black Armani and pick something appropriate out for Caitlin, Sean and Olivia as well. Sean will probably be bringing that Tiffany girl, so pick out one of Caitlin's dresses from last year for her." Rose knew better then to argue and scurried out of sight.
Bette decided a sip of her brandy might be a good idea as he turned to her with reckless abandon.
"You will have to join us as well to round out the number," Gregory announced cheerfully. "Feel free to use your new account if you need something new to wear and be there by seven."
Taking the crystal decanter of brandy he headed for the pool, even starting to hum a little as he went. Pinching her nose to drown out the taste Bette finished her drink in a gulp and followed him out to the poolside. "Don't you want to talk about this Gregory?"
Refilling his glass for the third time, Gregory grinned wickedly at her as he perched on the patio wall. "My father broke three of my ribs for 'cheating' when I came home with straight A's in second grade. He broke my nose when I went out for the debate team instead of football in High School. He turned to me and asked if I was happy for what I had done when my mother died of her heart condition during my senior year of high school."
"Nicholas Richards kicked me out of his house the moment I turned eighteen and hasn't tried to contact me since. He's never written me a letter. Not when I graduated at the head of my law school class, not when I married Olivia, not when Caitlin was born. Not even when my son died."
Bette pulled herself up on the wall next to him and wrapped rested her head on his shoulder. "He was a monster Greggy. I'm not saying otherwise, but he was still your father. You must feel something."
"Relief…" He replied softly before setting it down his empty glass on the wall next to him. "He can't hurt anyone anymore Bette." For an instant she saw honest relief in his eyes before he buried it behind a wall of practiced calm. "He's finally in a place where no one else has to listen to the poison of his voice."