With this segment of Chapter Ten of Repairing the Legacy, we continue the serialization of Repairing the Legacy. This is a rough draft work in progress and may not reflect the final form. Time period: set after the ending of The Martiniere Legacy main trilogy. I’m breaking longer chapters into sections for readability. This is the first part of Chapter Nine. There will be three parts to this chapter.

New to the series? Chapter order:

Return of the Prodigal Son (2 parts)

Conversations and a Dinner (2 parts)

Dancing into Change (2 parts)

Sisterly Compromises (3 parts)

Conspiracies at the Rodeo (3 parts)

Passing the Baton (4 parts)

Research Complications (3 parts)

Chasing After Shadows (3 parts)

Fifth Anniversary Present (3 parts)

MARIAH

September, 2064

GABE

“Dad, I need help.” Brandon’s expression was—Gabe wasn’t certain how he would define it. A mix of sadness, perplexity, and concern.

“What’s happening?”

Nothing related to the Martiniere Group should be problematic. Quarterly reports were done. Financials looked good. As far as Gabe knew, there weren’t any new contentious flares between Family branches. He had adjudicated a few and by now, the Family was well aware that the Martiniere Emeritus didn’t tolerate petty power squabbles that did nothing but tear down the Family.

Personal, then? A problem with Lily or Kris? Or the upcoming election? Kris was lending a hand with her sister Pat’s presidential re-election race, but that should be under control. Justine would let Gabe know if there were problems, since she was managing Pat’s fundraising. Kris’s continued poor health was troubling, but there wasn’t much Gabe could do about that, other than listen to Brandon fret.

Lily—their granddaughter was a handful, and made him nervous at times. Something about her reminded Gabe of Philip. But she was only four-and-a-half years old—too young to get into any major trouble. Right?

“It’s Mariah. She’s in the hospital. Apparent suicide attempt, not expected to survive.” Brandon frowned. “Al is not taking it well.”

Aw, shit.

Gabe tightened his lips. Mention of Mariah brought up too damned many memories, all bad.

“I didn’t realize that Al was that close to his mother.” Gabe tried to keep his voice neutral.

“Apparently he has been.” Brandon rubbed his chin. “He reports contacts with her to me; that’s been a criterion we set up shortly after I became the Martiniere. His idea. But this apparently has come out of the blue.” He winced. “Al was able to intercept a statement. It’s not pretty.”

“Of course.” Like everything tied into Mariah. God. “How far did that statement spread?”

“Kris has it locked down, and Justine is investigating whether it truly came from Mariah.”

“Oh dear God, I hope you set parameters for your aunt Justine.”

His sister had certain triggers that brought out a side of her all too much like their father. Gabe never understood exactly why Justine disliked Mariah so intensely. It went beyond Mariah’s role in his divorce—something about the way Mariah had behaved toward Justine during her tenure as Philip’s primary mistress? Very possible.

Whatever it was, his sister hated Mariah with the same intensity that his wife did—and, a rarity for Justine, was not as good at concealing her feelings as Ruby. Then again, Mariah’s demonstrated deep feelings for Al had gone a long way toward mellowing Ruby on the subject of Mariah. They might not be the best of friends, but Ruby and Mariah could be in the same room without arguments exploding.

Not true for Mariah and Justine.

“I know how Justine feels about Mariah,” Brandon said. “Al needs onsite support as she passes, Dad. I can’t give that to him as the Martiniere. Image. Can you—without getting Mom involved?”

“I can help. But—your mother will be involved,” Gabe said firmly. “For my sake.”

“Her presence may attract more attention than we want, given past history,” Brandon cautioned.

“I need her there,” Gabe insisted. “And considering our past—I wouldn’t think of leaving her out of this situation. So where is Mariah, and where is Al?”

“I’ll send you the hospital details as I have them,” Brandon said. “Justine is moving Mariah to a more private location—she ended up in an indigent facility. In Los Angeles. As for Al—he’s ready to leave as soon as Justine gives us the details.”

Gabe nodded. “All right. I’ll get Mike and your mother ready, and talk to Justine so she knows we’re coming in. Have Al wait for us to come to Moondance—I’d be more comfortable if Mike could stay with you, so we don’t have to take him to LA.”

“Not a problem,” Brandon said. “I’ll let Al know. Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome.” Gabe disconnected and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled.

God, Mariah, even in your dying you cause trouble.

Gabe leaned his head against his chair back, organizing his priorities.

Tell Ruby first.

Then Mike.

Get the travel packing started and whatever actions needed to be done to cover ranch operations for an indefinite period.

Call Justine, have her route the jet for Al to the Double R, then get her take on the situation.

He was damned sure there was some sort of situation, not just because it was Mariah but because she was in LA, not Chicago. She was supposed to be in Chicago. Her financial support from the Martiniere Family Trust was contingent on her staying there, away from the Family except at Christmas.

Mariah had probably gotten sucked into another crusade in yet another misguided attempt at atonement for the things she had done as Philip’s mistress. While Gabe hadn’t investigated, he was certain that he wasn’t her only victim.

He didn’t really want to know about the others. Bad enough that Mariah had nearly landed in prison for her blockchain tracker scam—and he wondered how much of that situation Philip had engineered, so that he could keep Mariah on a hidden indenture contract.

#

Ruby’s lips tightened after Gabe told her.

“Do you know what her current condition is? Obviously bad, but is she coherent? At risk of dying before we get there? I’d like to know what we’re facing.”

Gabe shook his head. “I haven’t called Justine yet. I wanted to ask you to come with me first. Then get Mike ready. I’m just—” he sighed. “Even in dying she causes trouble. I want you by my side because I—I need you. And Al needs you.”

Ruby nodded. “I hadn’t thought he was that close to her, but it’s not been my concern.”

“His mother, his business,” Gabe agreed. “ Al has been reporting contacts regularly to Bran, so he knows what is going on better than we do. He says they’re close.”

“Give me half an hour to ensure that Terri has everything lined up for the third cutting of hay and for the grain harvest. Everything should be in good shape, but I want to be certain we’re covered.” Her mouth quirked. “We’ll go to Justine’s house?”

“Most likely. I don’t know for how long yet. Bran’s all right with Mike staying at Moondance.”

“Good. He shouldn’t be anywhere near Mariah.” Ruby scowled. “Too many traces of your father about her. She might be able to trigger some programming in him. After that incident with him and the mysteriously appearing clone file—I’d sooner err on the side of caution.”

“Absolutely.” Gabe came around her desk and leaned against it, taking her hands. “And Rubes—thank you.”

A quick smile crossed her lips, then faded. “There is one thing, Gabe.”

“What’s that?” He steeled himself, tightening his hands on hers, expecting a demand of some sort—not the usual thing from Ruby, but she was entitled in this circumstance.

“Bran’s certain it was a suicide attempt?”

The question took him by surprise, and yet—

“I plan to ask Justine for more information.”

“Good.” Ruby’s lips tightened again. “Because of all the people who have suicidal tendencies? Mariah Meyers is one of the last people I would expect to exhibit them. Unless she tried something spectacular and it failed.”

And there it was. Ruby articulating something that had been niggling at Gabe, as she so often did when he couldn’t clarify a problem.

My beloved warrior wife.

“You’re right,” he said. “Why is she in LA? Why an indigent facility? She should have enough money to be comfortable in Chicago.”

“Exactly,” Ruby said. “There’s more to this story than a suicide attempt, Gabe. I wonder how authentic that statement is.”

#

“The statement doesn’t ring true to me,” Justine said when Gabe called her to reroute the plane. “Current evidence suggests it’s fake.”

“How bad is Mariah?” Gabe asked.

Justine grimaced. “Fucking ugly. Poison. Maybe twenty-four hours before complete liver and kidney failure, and she’s in bad health to begin with. Neglect. Underweight.”

“We’re coming with Al. Me and Ruby both.”

“That’s good.” Justine scowled. “He’ll need your support. She’s still somewhat coherent part of the time, and knows that Al is on his way. She’s asking for him.”

“Do you think this was suicide?”

Justine paused, tapping her lips with her index fingers. “I don’t know how much of what I’m seeing is caused by the poison in her system and how much of it is mental deterioration. She took a mixture of acetaminophen, drain cleaner, and bleach.”

“Aw, fuck.” And deft avoidance of his question by his sister—which might be the answer he sought.

“But,” Justine continued. “I have questions. She rambles. God, Gabie. It could be early-onset dementia or caused by what’s in her system. She yells at Daddy-damned-dearest’s ghost. Rants about Georgy Batineau—and others.”

“Including me?”

“No. Nothing about you, nothing about Ruby. However. There are ligature marks on her wrists.”

“What the hell?”

“The owners of the complex where she was staying said she has—a certain reputation. Bondage. They thought she was a prostitute.”

Gabe snorted. Not too far off from the truth. “Brandon said she was in an indigent facility.”

“No evidence of an income,” Justine said. “She was living in that complex for six months. It doesn’t fit, Gabie. She should have had enough money to live in a better place, even in LA.”

“And she has been drawing her money regularly from the Family Trust?”

Justine nodded. “It appears she went back to Chicago monthly for the mandated inspections.”

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither does her alleged statement.” Justine exhaled. “It’s ugly. But—given her state of mind—I don’t know for certain, Gabie.”

Early-onset dementia?

Entirely possible. Or mind control gone awry—an ever-growing concern within the Family. How much had Philip’s programming twisted her?

“We’ll be there soon enough,” Gabe said.

“Good.”