Unexpected Arrivals(47)

“No, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. She didn’t want him.”

“Well, no shit, Sherlock. Everyone other than you saw that.”

I chose to ignore that. “She asked me to come see her.”

“In Paris?” He screamed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear. His voice was distorted to the point I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or pissed that I might be out again.

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“That’s why I called—”

“Dude, you cannot be gone for a week, bring back twenty-three new clients I know nothing about, and jet off to another fucking country. I’m pretty fucking impressive, but I’m not Batman.”

“Thank God for small favors. No one needs to see your ass in tights. And I sure as hell could never be your Robin.”

“Not to worry…Hannah definitely has Harley Quinn covered.”

Gross.

“I realize I can’t go in the next week or two. I was going to ask you to look at my calendar to see when I might be free in a few weeks. That would give us time to get someone hired and familiar with the portfolios, so you wouldn’t be drowning.”

“Surely you don’t think I’m your secretary?”

“Not at all. If you’d like me to ask her, I certainly can have her tell me the moment my calendar is free and get her to book a flight.” I let the weight of that settle…which didn’t take long.

“Fuck that. She’d have you out of here within hours of you pulling back into the city. She’s too efficient for her own damn good.”

I didn’t try to stifle the laugh.

We spent the next hour talking about the clients I was bringing back, the type of person we needed to join our team, and going over our schedules. As great as the added business was, it meant there was no way I’d get back out of the office for a week—or even a few days—before November…and that was pushing it. And unfortunately, until we hired at least one more person, maybe two, there was no way I’d be airborne, much less practicing my high school French.





10





Chelsea





I kissed her cheek and told her how much I loved her before I left. Each visit became progressively harder; she’d lost weight living on a liquid diet, and her eyes were tired—not sleepy, but weary. I felt like I should offer her permission to let go; however, selfishly, I wasn’t there yet. I wanted to hold on for another day, another week, another year. There would never come a point where I could open the gate to eternity for her. I’d always need her, and not even Dottie could take her place.

Dottie waited for me to say goodbye just outside the room. It had become our routine. She always gave me time alone with my mom. She did it in case it was the last time I got to see her. And while I refused to believe the door closing behind me could take my mother with it, I appreciated her consideration all the same.

I hadn’t let my mom see me cry—she couldn’t console me, so the tears seemed selfish. But as I left today, Dottie took me in her arms and kissed my temple. I didn’t have to tell her I was scared—she could see it written all over my face—and I couldn’t hide the way my body shook before the sobs began. There in the hall, with people passing us without a glance, my heart finally acknowledged what my brain had known my entire life.

My mother was going to die.

Soon.

With her arm wrapped around my waist, Dottie led me back outside. “How about a walk before we drive home?” It was about an hour drive from here back to Geneva Key, and sitting in a car for that length of time in the shape I was in would make for a difficult night.

“If you don’t mind. Curling up on mom’s bed for hours makes me stiff, and the sunshine will do me good.”

“Sweetheart, there is nothing I’d rather do than spend time with you.”

She dropped her hold on my waist to take my hand. Somehow, it didn’t seem strange to walk around the path down to the pond just outside the facility with our fingers laced. Maybe it was our age difference or that my heart was so heavy I needed to feel tied to something that wouldn’t allow me to sink into an abyss. Either way, the warmth of her touch lightened my mood and tipped my lips into a meager smile.

“Do you remember when the three of us went to New York? You couldn’t have been more than four or five years old.” We did a lot of reminiscing these days; Dottie was either determined to ensure I recalled things from my childhood or she tried to keep them fresh in her own mind.

“I remember going to Central Park and my mom begging me to ride in the horse-drawn carriage.”

“And you were scared of the horses running off if someone scared them. When she gave up and realized you weren’t going to budge, she decided to stroll through the park on foot.”

“There were people everywhere. It wasn’t anything like the parks I’d been to. There wasn’t a playground or a sandbox—everything was green for as far as I could see.”

“We must have walked a hundred miles that day. Your mom and I kept thinking you’d get tired. But you were relentless. We didn’t leave until the sun started to set, because the fear of the dark was scarier than the appeal of the adventure.”

I hadn’t thought about that trip in years and had forgotten Dottie was the one who’d taken us there. She always came up with the best things to do. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but her adventures were more extravagant because money had never been an issue. My mom’s were always fun, regardless of the fact we were on a tighter budget. And even though we didn’t have financial freedom, I never wanted for anything.