One Wish (Thunder Point #7)(73)
Iris stroked her upper arm. “Listen, I can help you. I’m off this week. I’m back to school next week, but I can work after school. And I’m off all weekend, of course. I can help with big jobs. I can clean up and take orders. Whatever you need.”
“Can you help train a new employee? I gave Ray Anne’s niece a job and she’ll be here at eight.”
Iris puffed up. “Yes. I can!”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Let me help you get on your feet.”
“My mother wants me to go to San Francisco. She wants to get her house in order.”
Iris made a sad face. “She probably has no one else to ask.”
“Oh, she has an army of people to ask. But she wants me involved. Iris, my mother is wealthy. She has expensive things and complicated finances and I think she believes I’m not up to the job of taking care of her things.”
Iris was shaking her head, but she had a kind smile on her face. “It’s peace of mind, Grace. Ten years before my mother died she started asking me questions like, ‘Before I take this old sewing cabinet to the thrift shop, is it something you might want someday?’ and ‘Iris, I have all these old Christmas cards—years of them. Do you want to save them so you know the names of all our acquaintances?’ I was surprised that it even mattered to her because it didn’t matter to me. But it was important to her. And she was the opposite of wealthy.”
“Well, when things lighten up a little, I’m going to go for a few days. I’ll listen to her tell me what she’s worried about, look at her inventory and talk to her lawyers, who I actually already know. I lived in that house for thirteen years. Then she can lock up the house. I’m trying to find her something up here so I can see her often. When it’s all over and done, I can go back, take a couple of things to remember her and have her lawyers arrange an estate sale.”
“Wow,” Iris said. “The difference between rich and poor. Garage sale versus estate sale. You don’t want to live in that house?”
“And do what?”
“I don’t know. Have a kitchen and a large bathroom?” She rolled her eyes upward, indicating the loft.
At that moment, Troy came in the back door. His hair was errant from sleep and he wore a set of sweats that had somehow found a home in Grace’s loft. Hands in his pockets, he shuffled in wearing his docksiders and no socks. He nodded at Iris and went straight to Grace, kissing her cheek.
“I’d rather have this,” Grace said, putting her arms around his waist.
* * *
Iris, Troy and Grace had a completely unplanned and very productive brainstorming session and it was Iris who provided a solution, if Winnie would go along with it. “Go now,” she said. “Go now, while I’m on spring break. Take a few days. Make sure you leave me with your flower orders. Knowing you, you have everything you need for Peyton and Scott’s wedding written down somewhere so I can place the order. If your new assistant is good, she’ll be available to open the shop next week if you’re still gone. If not,” she said with a shrug, “I’ll post a sign. Closed For Family Business. Leave me your work cell and I’ll fill phone orders after school.”
“I can help,” Troy said.
Grace bit her lip. “I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” she said.
“Me? I don’t want to get in the way.”
“Even if it’s just for a couple of days...”
“You should, Troy,” Iris agreed. “All this—Grace’s mother, the business of Grace dealing with her will and property—this could affect you.”
“She’s right, Troy. If you can. If you don’t want to, I understand. I know my mother can be hard to take.”
“Winnie doesn’t get to me like she gets to you,” he said. “But you better open this discussion about her relocation right away. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who gives in to someone else’s ideas easily. And moving out of her home when she’s sick and feeling vulnerable—that might be too much to ask of her.”
“Moving is hard, but Winnie won’t have to actually do any moving. She’s been directing traffic her whole life. She’ll have other people do it all. She’ll board a plane. Her assistant will handle everything from the luggage to the flight. She’s the gatekeeper of the records and BlackBerry. When I was young, before I left Mother’s house, there was a different assistant in charge and my mother showed me a cataloged inventory of her possessions that was as thick as a big-city phone book.”
“Must be nice,” Iris said.
“It’s how she chooses to live, the same way her parents lived. It’s not that it’s easy—a lot of energy goes into everything she does. And she does good things. She’s a socialite—she’s raised millions for charities. But she can’t drive a car. I prefer a different kind of life, a much lighter load. I don’t want my life to be that complicated.” She thought for a second. “This could work except for one thing—the Lacoumette-Grant wedding. I have to be back for that. I want to be back for that wedding. It’s a big job but I really want to see a Basque wedding in a pear grove! It could be so good for my résumé!”
“Grace, you have a week. And I can keep the shop open for you on that weekend, if you want me to. We’re not going. Half the town is going and my deputy is going to guard the town,” Iris said.
Robyn Carr's Books
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