CINDERELLA Revisited
A/N You reader's read my mind. Watch out for Ziva!
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS and am making no money writing this fan fiction
Beta: Mike91848 Thank"s Mike
Chapter Twenty
"McGee, McGee, McGee! Thanks for coming down." Abby gave Tim one of her huggy hugs that had been sorely lacking lately. The kind of hug that leaves you breathless but warm and fuzzy.
"Yeah, I'm here, Abby. What's going on?"
McGee had received the first of many frantic calls from Abby at home this morning that she had to see him before he went to the bullpen. Another call while he was driving to work and the final one just as he was stepping into the building.
"Timmy...sorry, Tim. Just, how's Tony doing? I know he went home from the hospital on Friday and he'll be in this morning for light duty but how's he really doing? Is everything okay? I saw Ziva over the weekend and she seemed kinda down. Not obvious down so other's would notice but you know, a little quiet and I know she went to see Tony on Friday evening and I just hope everything's okay with them..."
"Abby?" He stood in front of her preventing her from making her third round around the lab. He was glad to see that she had returned to her distinct Abby mode of dress pre-Simmons, today clothed in a long-sleeved black sweater with white collar and cuffs, black shorty skirt with, of all things, a pattern of golden bells, opaque pantyhose and platform black Mary Janes.
Abby sighed and picked up Bert. "Nothing's the same and will never be the same again and I know it's all my fault and I don't know how I can fix it. Especially after all that has happened to Tony because of the worst evil family on the face of the planet and how I went on and on about how family was everything.
"He told me to butt out, Tim, but I didn't listen thinking I knew better than him. But he lived with those monsters, why would I think I knew better than him? What is wrong with me, Tim? And what a low down hypocrite I am keeping my adoption and brother a secret then trying to make Tony reveal all his reasons for doing things his way. I demanded he explain things to me that wasn't any of my business...God, I'm just so frustrated with myself. I can't forgive what I..."
"Abby! Tim gripped her shoulders gently and shook her just a little before letting her go.
"Abby. You have to stop tearing yourself up over all of this. Believe me, you are the last thing on Tony's mind right now and I say that in a good way. Go up there and talk to him. Apologize or whatever. Take the first step. Be the bigger person. Do the right..."
"McGee! Stop!" But she grinned at him shyly in unspoken gratitude for his unchangeableness. The rest of the building may have thought bad of her, even that she got what she deserved for her friendship with the cretin Simmons. And no matter how many milky white, odorless organic candles she burned in her lab, or chants she whispered over her machines, her lab still felt alien and unwelcoming, and she knew it would continue to do so until she had righted what she had wronged.
"But you are right, McGee, you are right. I will take the first horrendous step to make things better between us. I'll do that right now." Abby took a step towards the glass doors then turned back to McGee. "Will you go with me, Tim?" She asked pitifully.
Ncisncisncis
Tony was sitting at his desk with his chin resting on his hand when he wasn't taking a bite of his bear claw and sipping at his carton of chocolate milk. Ostensibly, he was supposed to be reading his emails from well- wishers, surprised but pleased that there were people who didn't automatically hate...okay, he wasn't going there again.
He was determined not to think about a subject in his waking moments that would not leave him alone in his nightmares. Ever since that brief glimpse of Anthony DiNozzo, Sr, and hearing the concerned hurt in his voice over his son Anton, as though it was actual physical pain he was feeling, he could not get the man to go back to his dark closet in a row of dark closet's, each with its door closed and securely bolted and those inside quiet and invisible in his mind.
Now some of those closets were empty because he wanted them to be; Steve for one was out and he was glad. Even Anton had escaped and he could think about him with just pity and a distant concern. But the door's collapsing backwards against his will? And those inside stumbling out at their own will, no.
So since he couldn't get his mind to stay on reading emails or away from dark closets, he would go to his backup plan, the really hot, hilarious, steamy heathenish, hot babe he had spent the majority of his weekend with.
This morning he had dropped Margret off at the airport for her long flight to Spain and she had promised to bring him back red wine and olive oil native to her favorite small Spanish town, and Galician rolls for all his booboo's, and sweet Valencia oranges and Artisan chocolatiers for his sweet tooth to feast on, and as a special treat, Margret herself. All of his favorite things.
He found himself humming the romantic symphony number three by Beethoven that he had played the weekend away on his piano because Margret loved to hear it. She didn't know that it also indulged his urge to repeat his self-stimulatory behavior by playing the same musical tune uniformly over and over. It beat a grown man unromantically flapping his hands or rocking, or cleaning the floor on his hands and knees that he was particularly prone to do for hours on end.
God, something else shameful he was going to have to admit to Margret; his damaged psyche stress related coping mechanism when dealing with anything DiNozzo-related. Damn them. But now, he was trying to stay in too good of a mood to dwell on the negativity of his worthlessness per DiNozzo standards. He would make plans for a delightful weekend away with Margret on one of Gibbs' boats.
Few people knew that the Boss' boats were docked in different marinas and were rented out by his agent by the hour or the day, "you think alimony money grows on trees, DiNozzo?" Gibbs had asked him that more than ten years ago, when he was still paying an arm and a leg to rid himself of his failed attempts to recapture his lost love.
Now, free of alimony payments, the boat rentals were just a source of income to buy more wood for more boats. And sometimes the man's boats were even used for other things like safe houses, who'd think of looking for a target in a boat thirty miles off shore.
But Tony had plans for the best use of a boat. He could picture it now; exciting and mysterious seafaring getaway for two aboard a sleek and shiny faux gondola slipping in silent secrecy from the dock on a cool misty morning. Ah, sultry evenings with romantic candlelit dinners and decadent exotic desserts to indulge was what he had in mind for the vixen Margret and himself, kindling romance and feeding the embers to fiery flames.
Tony wasn't that crazy about a rocking boat but Margret loved to fish, and loved the idea of the two of them alone, moonlit nights, cool breezes, the gentle coo of a dove, the soft flapping of its wings, the...
"Enjoy your weekend, Tony?"
Tony jumped and the bubble popped. He was abruptly dislodged from his guilty flights of pleasurable fancies at the sound of her voice next to his ear and reflexively knocked his knee against the open desk drawer.
"Yaaw, ow!" He manly screeched, rubbing at his denim covered knee and fumbling to switch the pretty picture of a boat off the computer screen. Backing his chair away from her in defense of being attacked again, he glared at her as she stood over him. Tony had been so engrossed in his good mood and plan's, he honestly had not heard her come in.
"What the hell, Ziva? What is wrong with you, woman?"
"I am sorry, Tony." Ziva outright laughed at him as she invaded his space leaning back against his desk and watching him rub at his knee and pick up his knocked over carton of spilt chocolate milk at the same time. She didn't offer to help while he dabbed at the dark liquidy mess with a paper napkin.
"I just wondered what had you so engrossed. Was that one of Gibbs' boats?"
"Uh, maybe. I thought I would take up fishing, try my hand at catching fresh sea bass or salmon..."
"Tony, you hate fishing. Ah, I know, Margret. Yes?"
Ncisncisncis
I eyed Ziva while she leaned slightly over me. I hadn't spoken to her since Friday night and hadn't had a single thought except fleetingly about her since then either. Honestly? I had expected more of a fight from her at my bold statement of terms for our continued working relationship, some broken bones at least, my eye gouged out with a paper clip, something. Because after all, me being bold with her was to her like a yellow light about to turn red meant step on the accelerator and plow through.
But Friday night she had gone into the bathroom, face closed off and secretive; and had come back, sorry and contrite. Swearing off the stalking and interfering, wanting to be friends, continue covering each other's backs. Partner's.
I would take her at her word for now until she showed me differently. Her mentioning Margret casually that way, there was no animosity in her voice, no covert clenching of her fists, no hidden meaning that I could discern. I would have to trust her. For now.
Ncisncisncis
Ziva had arrived in the bullpen this morning and had had time to sit down at her desk, store her bag and turn on her computer before getting annoyed at Tony's continued ignorance of her presence as he alternately stared at his computer and then into space with that stupid dreamy look on his face. She finally had had enough, had left her desk and crept up on him, hiding her irritation well in the slight mockery that he seemed to expect from her and was willing to accept.
She laughed at his startled reaction at her words spoken so close to his ear. He and fishing? She mocked at the idea of Tony quietly sitting still holding a pole for hours on end without driving someone crazy.
Really, Margret should know better. She may have him slaved for now, but she did not know him, and he would not be her slave forever. She smiled in his face coyly and lightly slapped his cheek before walking back to her desk, not noticing the wary, somewhat suspicious look aimed at the small of her back.
Ziva sat back at her desk satisfied she had made her presence known. With her course set and in motion, this time she would pass the course with an E for excellence. She had gone home Friday night after having Tony's ultimatum shoved down her throat.
And after running up the stairs and storming into her apartment, had slammed the door so hard the frame shook. He thought it was that easy and his place to dictate to her? Threaten her job, her security, her place on the team? She would kill him first. She would have him on his knees in front of her then she would kill him.
She had picked up a framed picture of the two of them in LA and threw it against the wall. After that, she went to the kitchen and broke every dish she could get her hands on. She fought back tears of humiliation; if her father knew how she had allowed herself to be shamed and disrespected by this man, he would first disown her and then have him tortured and killed. Her fury was beyond reason. Only when her busybody husband and wife neighbor's had come to her door asking if she was alright had she started to calm down.
After that, and a cup of tea later in an empty mason's jar, she was calm enough to be able to analyze the many mistakes she had made in her dealings and reactions with Tony DiNozzo.
Ziva had failed Mossad Basic 101, the Intricacies of Allure and Seduction, with flying colors. She had done everything wrong by not taking into account that Tony was a player. He played with women. He played with her. He played her. It amused him to flirt and flattery was second nature to him. The cat and mouse games with women made his day.
And the women he was attracted to and who were attracted to him loved it because he didn't expect long term with them and they didn't expect a ring or commitment from him. Ziva learned fast and she learned her lesson well as her favorite American singer Ricky Nelson had crooned. Now she was ready to start over with the basic 101 course securely under her Mossad belt. Tony DiNozzo would not know what hit him and Margret did not stand a chance.
Ncisncisncis
The dinging elevator announced the arrival of McGee and behind him hovering nervously, Abby Sciuto. McGee walked up to Tony's desk and preempted Tony's good morning greeting by presenting Abby in a formal ritualistic way.
"Ms Sciuto. I would like you to meet Agent Anthony you may call him Tony, DiNozzo. Tony, Abigail Sciuto, Abby for short."
There, he did his part. McGee immediately went to his desk to let the two of them work it out. He wasn't a mediator or a peacemaker. Leave him out of it.
"Tony, I need to say some things to you if you would be willing to listen. Would you come to the lab when you have a minute?"
Tony felt like the messed up cosmos needed him to deal with another disgruntled woman this morning. He checked Abby out and thankfully noted she had reverted back to normal wearing the little outfits that just suited her, eccentricities and all, and had given up the recent wardrobe of denim coveralls and bulky blouses that hid every inch of her pale body and made things around her seem strange and surreal.
And granted, she wasn't generating both the hyperkinetic and frenetic telltale body language she did so well but he sometimes couldn't tell with women. They could hide true feelings behind sweetness and charm. Hidden anger or blame?
Then again Abby hiding? Not really. Ziva, sweetness and charm? No to that, too. Abby was brutal with her perceived truth's, and Ziva was just unfeelingly brutal. If they were angry or were blaming him, he'd know about it soon enough. So, for the sake of peace and to clear the air, he would man up and give Abby his ultimatum or accept her apology and move on.
"Yeah, sure, Abby. I'll be down in a little bit." Abby nodded happily and quickly walked away after a good morning to Ziva.
"Mageeee?"
McGee couldn't pretend obliviousness by keeping his head down and hidden behind his computer, Tony would just keep bugging him. And anyway, McGee had to take pity on the guy, it would be cruel to add any more stress to the man who still looked unhealthy, wan, thinner, tired. "She's sorry, Tony and wants to apologize for her past mistakes, that's all, I swear. No hidden agenda, no new persuasive techniques, okay? Just talk to her, she's a wreck."
"Hmmm. What about Simmons? Where'd he disappear to?"
"Don't know, don't care. Do you?"
"Naw."
Before Tony could head downstairs, his phone rang. Vance wanted to see him and he couldn't help groaning inwardly. He and Vance had more than a modicum of respect for each other now because Tony had finally realized that Vance knew what he was doing most of the time and he did put his agents above politics. And it had dawned on Vance that Tony wasn't, well, whatever his first opinion of him had been.
But still, what now? Gibbs' had been up there since Tony came in this morning. It could only mean one thing and that was not a welcome back good to see ya greeting from Director Vance either. The DiNozzo name must have popped up again.
Ncisncisncis
Upstairs in Vance's office, Gibbs, and no surprise, Fornell, were seated facing Vance's desk. Tony noted the grim faces as he sat in the last empty chair and waited for the bad news which wasn't long in coming.
"First let me say welcome back Agent DiNozzo. I understand your doctor has restricted you to desk duty for a week?"
Forget this. "What's going on Director Vance?" Tony broke in rather rudely and his face got that don't give me any crap look he was prone to wearing lately.
Vance eyed Fornell and Gibbs before sighing and deciding to skip the bunk the just arrived agent wasn't interested in hearing anyway.
"Okay. Anthony DiNozzo, Sr, paid a hefty sum to get his wife out on bail and under house arrest with an ankle bracelet. It would appear that Angela DiNozzo had help in removing the bracelet and is now in the wind. The FBI believes that she is being hidden somewhere in the States before she is whisked off to her final foreign country destination. It's all here." Vance pushed a folder towards Tony.
"Yeah, so?" Tony's gut plunged though his face remained stoic. He ignored the folder.
Increasingly annoyed at Angela DiNozzo's ability to evade the law, Fornell's voice betrayed his frustration. "Look, DiNutso, the woman's got more twists than a barnyard dog has flees. Come to find out, this Shue guy was just one of her dalliances used to primarily get help for her grandson but not the real love of her life, and it's not her husband either.
"This guy's a billionaire from overseas oil money. We know who he is but he's claiming he hasn't seen or heard from her since before she got locked up. But someone helped her get rid of the ankle bracelet and is hiding her now.
"Don't get me wrong, Tony. The FBI couldn't care less about her but the problem is, she had her hand in other things and she may have acquired information, probably on a chip, that threatens national security. That's the word, don't know if it's true or not but the former SECNAV is swearing that it's all her fault, everything that happened even the loss of his mind and he wants revenge. He said she let it slip that he wasn't the only sucker she had over a barrel and she had info that could destroy a lot of people, and she had info that could affect the whole country if it got out as well."
Tony was getting tired of the man's rambling and Gibbs, who couldn't stand a whole lot of yammering either, brusquely interrupted. "Would you just tell him what you want and quit babbling, Fornell."
Fornell's dirty look aimed at Gibbs and curse under his breath were not faked. "We need to search the mansion. Mrs DiNozzo didn't have time to take anything with her when we arrested her and we've had guards posted since she escaped. She hasn't been there since."
"I still don't get what..."
"The place is abandoned, Tony. Senior moved into the penthouse in town and there's no cause for a warrant to search the house..." Gibbs had not agreed to Vance's and Fornell's plan to soft soap the issue that they basically needed to ransack the mansion. He knew Tony couldn't care less, and wouldn't appreciate the pussyfooting around, but still...
"So you want my permission? Go ahead what's the big deal?"
"Well it's your home and..." Vance started.
"That's what this is about? You think I'm going to freak out because you want to desecrate my ancestral home." He looked incredulously at the three nincompoops before getting up and walking to the window, opening his mouth and laughing uncontrollably to the birds outside.
After some seconds of silence on their parts while DiNozzo managed to get himself under control, Vance cleared his throat. "Good, good. Alright, then. DiNozzo, get cleared to travel by your physician. Gibbs, take your team and Balboa's team for the search. This is still a joint op with the FBI so I'm assuming you'll want in on it also, Fornell. It's probably just a wild goose chase but...let's do it."
Ncisncisncis
Tony sat in the back seat of the car with McGee. Shotgun was too hard of a seat to aspire to right now since fighting with Ziva over it would have taken too much of his energy. Gibbs, who it seemed to Tony, slept only a couple of hours a week, wanted to leave at five so here they were on their way to Long Island and a place he hadn't entered in thirty years.
Four hours later, a caravan of cars were parked in the long driveway and men in suits swarmed inside. Tony had checked beforehand. Janes was staying with Ducky and the other servants had left when Anthony Senior had moved out. He drew up a map and directed a group of agents standing in the cavernous foyer about the hidden stairs and secret rooms.
An older man entered the foyer accompanied by a middle aged man and woman. They stopped and gazed at the beehive activities of the intruder's in suits with hostile eyes before the older man approached an agent closest to him.
"What are you people doing here?" His voice was loud and imperious, and familiar to Tony DiNozzo whose head snapped up from perusing the map to stare down the hallway at the threesome.
Years ago, Tony age twelve
"Why would he shit and piss all over himself like that? What the hell's wrong with him? I don't blame Anthony for beating his hide. If he were my kid, he'd be in a reform school by now."
The man's noisy outburst was heard by all in the room as he angrily trailed behind Janes as he carried a beaten and distraught Tony to his bedroom and placed him on the bed. The man's speech was loud and vulgar as he continued to scold.
"Janes, get that crap off him it's disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself, soiling your clothes and then coming down stairs to embarrass your parents. Angela was right about you, you filthy mongrel brat."
Uncle Fred stormed back and forth in little Tony's bedroom, agitated and unrelentingly harsh and accusing of the young boy who sobbed his heart out while Janes and other servants tried getting the stained clothes off the boy without doing further damage to the child's broken arm.
Uncle Fred's wife slipped into the room obviously angry, worried and upset but still looked at Tony with little compassion or kindness. He was always at the center of any trouble that went on in this family.
"Fred, I spoke to Anthony. He's sick of this boy's bad behavior and says he has to go or he'll end up killing him. Fred, he wants to know if we'll take him and I'm telling you right now, I won't have that boy living in my house corrupting my beautiful girls with his bad ways. Do you hear me?" She screamed so loud the whole house could hear her.
"Edie, lower your voice! Everyone in the house can here you."
"Everyone? What everyone? You think those people stayed around after that fiasco downstairs. They couldn't wait to get out of here. How do you think this scandal is going to affect your political career, Fred? You might as well kiss that cushy job in the senate goodbye. You'd better..."
"Shut the hell up, Edie, now! Go downstairs and call Dr Trent. Tell him to get his ass over here and bring equipment to set a broken bone!"
"But Fred..."
"Would you just listen to me for once? Go!"
After the doctor's visit and Tony's arm was encased in plaster, Uncle Fred made a return visit to the quiet, traumatized boy who sat on his bed in weary shock.
"This is what's going to happen. Listen to me boy!" Uncle Fred made sure Tony was paying attention before continuing.
"Your father has turned your custody over to me. He has also disinherited you from his will and from any of the DiNozzo holdings or fortune. You will be sent to a military boarding academy in Rhode Island where you will live until you are eighteen. You will be expected to attend a university and take up business courses that will be paid for from the DiNozzo estate. Once you graduate from college, you will be on your own.
"Your father has requested that there be no correspondence from you, whatsoever. He does not want to hear from you again. That is for the best not for just him alone, but for you also. Is that understood?
"Answer me boy! Do you understand the provision's that have been made for you?"
"Yes, Uncle Fred."
"Good, now the limousine will transport you to the academy tonight. They are expecting you. And my advice is, don't do anything to screw this up because you will be out on the street living in the gutter if you do."
The present
Tony left the other agents to start their search then walked purposely down the hall to where an agent was attempting to answer the older man's questions in between being rudely snapped at and vilified by all three people.
"I demand you get me the person in charge here, now!"
"I'll handle this Dorneget."
Ned looked at Tony in relief, having saved him from punching the elderly dolt and breaking his nose, giving the other guy a black eye, and wiping his snooty female companion's ugly face on the marble floor.
He was ever thankful that he had been raised by an almost hippy single parent liberal mother who embraced his homosexuality and had taught him better manners than these three products of the overly rich idle blood sucking members of a class of society distinguished by their 'I deserve everything and you deserve nothing and you'd better work damn hard to get nothing' attitude.
But because of his good manners, all he said was, "Thank you, Tony. Have a nice day, folks." And he walked away.
Tony was under no such obligations to honor his mother's teachings. "What the hell are you doing here, Fred?" Surprised at hearing his name spoken so familiarly and yes, disrespectfully, Frederick DiNozzo turned to see a tall man dressed in a black tweed jacket, black shirt and jeans striding gracefully towards him.
He recognized the man as the grown up child of years ago when saving face meant everything to the DiNozzo's and blame went to the most vulnerable and defenseless. Frederick DiNozzo had been a heartless coward motivated by fear of a woman and the opinion of others. He hadn't changed much in thirty years.
"I beg your pardon? Who do you think you're talking to?" Fred stared at Tony trying to place the memory of the childish face with the adult standing before him.
"I'm Tony DiNozzo Jr. Remember me, Uncle Fred? The twelve year old kid you told never to darken the DiNozzo family doorstep again?"
"Oh my God, you're Tony, Jr." The homely woman standing next to Fred had been scrutinizing Tony silently when she suddenly gasped and clutched at the man's arm.
"It's Tony, Dad; your brother's son, Tony. She reached out in politeness to shake his hand. "I'm Tracy. Tracy Dinozzo Grant, Frederick's daughter. And this is my husband Blair Grant."
Tony kept his piercing eyes fixed on Uncle Fred during the introduction, waiting to see if there was something there, a spark of a chance for a basis for forgiveness. But there was no welcome or warmth in Fred DiNozzo when he finally found his voice.
"Tony, Junior, huh?" The older man laughed uncomfortably. Whatever Tony had been seeking, he knew then he would get nothing of value from this man. His uncle's opinion hadn't changed, at least outwardly. There was no regret or a smidgen of remorse at how he had treated him that fateful day and so Tony lost all interest in the man. Uncle Fred was forced back into the securely locked closet for good.
Fred DiNozzo looked around the foyer rather than meet his nephew's eyes. The foyer was empty except for the four of them and a couple of people checking the walls for hidden safe's or doors. He weighed the evidence before his eyes and jumped to the wrong conclusion.
"What's this about, Tony? Are you still the selfish little monster you were thirty years ago, showing up here ready to grab everything you could once Angela and your father were out of the picture. Does your father even know that you're here raiding the place? There are some pretty expensive items here and Angela's jewelry to be accounted for..."
"I'm a Federal Agent, Fred." Tony interrupted as he let his jacket fall away revealing his gun and his badge. Fred winced as Tony informed him of that in a voice as cold as ice and full of scorn. "These men and women are Federal agents doing their jobs.
"Now, unless you have a legitimate reason for being here, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Otherwise, I will have to assume that you showed up here, unannounced, ready to grab everything you could knowing that Angela and Anthony DiNozzo were out of the picture, especially since there are some pretty expensive items here and Angela's jewelry to consider." Fred grimaced in embarrassment at having his ugly words thrown back at him in that cold voice in front of his daughter and son-in-law.
"Look. I probably had no call to say that to you without knowing all the facts. I..."
Tony couldn't help himself. He was sick of holding all that stuff bottled up in him and who could it hurt now anyway.
"I never did get to thank you, Uncle Fred, for those wise words of wisdom you left me with. Because of you, I didn't pine away waiting for non-existing phone calls from family or visits on holidays. I more or less stayed out of trouble because of the threat of being homeless and living in the gutter all because of your wise words. Thank you."
Fred looked at the emotionless face in front of him for some sign of humor but the man was dead serious. He was thanking him for tearing him away from the only home he had ever known and the ruthless pep talk he had subjected him to.
Uncle Fred felt a moment of shame that didn't last longer than it took to blink his eye. Shame was not a virtue the man could maintain over a long period of time, he just didn't have it in him to be sorry for something he had done when his philosophy was every man for himself.
"I guess we'd better go."
"What about the jewelry dad? You're not just going to..." Her father turned fierce bullying eyes on her so she shut up. Her husband was not leaving a fortune behind even if he was cowed by the old man.
"Now look. My wife here has just as much right to Angela's jewelry as you do, probably more..."
"Just how do you figure that could possibly be the case, Grant?"
Tony calmly walked over to the Italian Venetian antique burl and mirror secretary bookcase desk with intricate scrolling. He studied his image in the mirror and the group watching behind him before patting a stray hair in place.
"You might not know this, Grant, because I'm sure it was kept a big dark secret hidden in the closet, but my grandmother left everything she owned to me including this mansion and everything in it."
He casually reached down and pressed a button hidden under the desk which released a hook that he pulled forward allowing a hidden door to open on the side of the desk. He reached in and pulled out a black velvet box the size of a shoebox. He pulled out a handful of jewelry; necklaces, bracelets, rings and earrings. Colorful, shiny baubles, obviously the real thing, and worth a fortune. Startled cries of astonishment and a gasped, 'they're beautiful', accompanied the find.
"Now see, Uncle Fred. It's too bad you weren't nicer to your mother because she might have shown you all the treasures she had hidden in this house instead of me. But she hated you intensely and she despised your brother."
Fred had always suspected that his mother didn't like him very much, but hate? He was saddened to hear that. He had loved his high spirited mother.
"So really, Grant." Tony continued, tossing a ring in the air as he talked, "comparison between this and Angela's junk is non-existent. I intend to chuck anything that belonged to the bitch in the gutter including her jewelry. Feel free to muck through the garbage cans on your next visit. Now it's time for you to go."
Outraged and impotent Uncle Fred threatened, "Your father will hear about this." His daughter, who had expected to finally have money of her own by way of Angela's jewelry, and in turn, get away from the tyranny that was her father, turned to go shedding bitter tears. Grant, who lived off the scraps of his homely wife, saw a fortune slipping through his fingers and walked away with slumped shoulders. "You can't do this. We'll take it to court."
Tony casually leaned against the desk running his hand through the box of jewelry and laughed. He felt pretty good. "Good luck with that but be my guest, Grant. Bye."
Ncisncisncis