Until the Day I Die(18)

Mom gazes at Sabine. “I’m impressed with how quickly you were able to find this place. Seeing as how all this just happened last night.”

Sabine folds her hands. No one says anything.

Mom looks around the table. “So how long have you all been talking behind my back? How long have you been plotting to send me away?”

The way she says it, I have the feeling she knows.

“You need help, Erin,” Layton says.

“We’ve been worried about you for a while now,” Sabine says.

Mom zeroes in on me. “I’m sorry, Shor. I’m so sorry for humiliating you like that. I don’t know what happened. But you know me, I barely even drink. You know that.”

I clear my throat. “You didn’t tell me you weren’t driving back home after moving me in. That you and Ben were going to check into a hotel instead.”

The room gets really quiet. Sabine looks down. Gigi emanates grandmotherly disapproval.

“I wanted to hang around, just in case Shorie needed me.” Mom turns to me. “Then later that night, you called—or your roommate called, I don’t remember exactly. I just know whoever it was said you needed to see me.”

“Well, then you should’ve called an Uber,” Gigi says. “Even I know how to call an Uber.” She glances around, like she expects congratulations on living in the present-day world.

“How did you get the keys to Ben’s truck?” I ask.

“He’s always had one of those magnet things under the bed of his truck. That must’ve been how I did it.” Her expression is so vulnerable again. So sad. The contrast with her earlier anger is so pathetic, I almost can’t stand to look at her.

“Erin, it’s okay,” Sabine says. “We really sympathize with what you’re going through. We all miss Perry so much. But you . . . well, it’s different for you. I think maybe we haven’t taken into account how deeply his death affected you. I’ve heard sometimes these things—blackouts and breakdowns—can happen when someone has undergone a trauma like this.”

“So why didn’t anyone call 911?” Mom asks. “Or take me to the hospital?”

Ben interjects. “Well, no one wanted to . . .”

“We thought you were drunk,” I say.

“But I wasn’t. I could’ve been roofied,” Mom says.

“What?” I say. But it seems like I’m the only one who thinks this sounds crazy. Everybody else is just sitting there like it’s no big deal. “Who would want to roofie you?” I demand.

“I don’t know. No one specific. It happens. But if I’d gone to the hospital and had my blood tested, we’d know. Now it’s probably too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says. “Taking you to the hospital didn’t occur to me. I thought maybe you’d been drinking back at the hotel, in your room. I didn’t want what happened to get out, to embarrass you publicly . . .”

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence.

“Very exclusive place, Hidden Sands,” Arch interjects, like we haven’t just been talking about someone dosing my mom’s drink when she wasn’t looking. “Only the best food, amenities. Spa services. Golf, if you want it. Tennis. Therapy, which is optional, of course.”

I love Arch, but oh my God, is he clueless.

“Nobody to bother you for a whole month,” he continues. “All the time in the world for you to rest and relax and get back to normal. So you can decide how you want to proceed.”

“How I want to proceed?” Mom echoes, a quizzical look on her face.

“He means if you still want to sell Jax,” Sabine says.

“Me selling Jax has nothing to do with whatever happened last night,” Mom says.

“We think it might,” Ben says.

“How?” She places her palms on the table. “Look, I’m very sorry for involving Shorie—”

Gigi interrupts. “What’s a child supposed to do in a situation like that—you getting drunk and following her? Embarrassing her in front of all her new friends at school. What kind of mother are you? What kind of example—”

“Felicia,” Arch says, and lifts his hand. Miraculously Gigi shuts her mouth.

“Erin,” Layton says. “Whether we sell the company next month or in two years, the issue is still the same. A CEO’s responsibility is to make their team feel safe and at the same time make potential buyers comfortable and confident. I think you’ll agree, this behavior falls short of that.”

I clear my throat. “You have to admit, Mom, you haven’t been . . . yourself since Dad . . .”

“I know,” Mom says slowly. “I realize I’ve been a little erratic. But I swear, it was one glass of wine. But somebody could’ve put something in my glass.” She looks around the table, her eyes pleading. “Please understand how hard this has been. I’m trying—” She looks like she’s about to burst into tears.

Layton puts a hand on Mom’s arm. “Are you currently in contact with any buyers, privately? To do my job properly, we can’t have any secrets. We all deserve to know.”

Mom shakes her head, but now there are tears slipping down her cheeks. She wipes them away and presses the back of her hand to her nose. Sabine passes her a box of tissues.