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“Sorry, girls. We don’t have time for pancakes. Miss Ellie will be here soon to drive you to school.” I remove a box of Pop-Tarts from the pantry. “You’ll have to settle for these.”
Caroline stomps her foot. “Not Pop-Tarts again.”
“I’ll scramble you some eggs. They won’t take but a minute.” Ashton retrieves the eggs and milk from the refrigerator. “You’re about to get your first cooking lesson.” She shows me how to break an egg into a bowl and slides the bowl in front of me. “Now crack three more eggs, add a splash of milk, and beat them with this,” she says, handing me a fork.
Ashton melts a paddy of butter in a skillet, and I pour in the scrambled eggs. She grabs a plastic spatula out of the utensil drawer and slaps me in the gut with it. “Now stir them with this until they’re done.”
When Ashton deems the eggs ready, I transfer them from the skillet onto two plates. We settle the girls at the table with their food and go out to the porch to talk.
I let out an audible sigh. “I have to watch everything I say in front of Caroline. She doesn’t miss a beat.”
“What did you do to make the nanny quit? I thought you liked her.”
“She kept the girls up after their bedtime after I repeatedly instructed her to stick to their schedule.” I run my hand down my face. “I probably shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”
A smirk appears on my sister’s lips. “Mm-hmm. Like you shouldn’t have gone off on that reporter yesterday.”
I drop down to a rocking chair. “You don’t need to scold me. I already heard an earful from Detective Marlowe yesterday.”
She sits down beside me. “I’m worried about you, Will. This isn’t the first time your anger management problem has gotten you into trouble.”
I cut my eyes at her. “Who says I have an anger management problem?”
“You’ve had one since you were a boy.” Ashton rests a hand on my forearm. “You’re not to blame after what we went through. But our dysfunctional family and alcoholic mother left permanent scars on you. The truth is, Will, with so much going on in your life, your emotional instability is causing problems for you, and you need to get help.”
I jerk my arm away. “What I need is for everyone to get off my back.”
“I heard Detective Marlowe’s statement yesterday. Sounds like he’s getting off your back,” Ashton says in an encouraging tone.
I let out a grunt. “For now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Marlowe is being pressured to bring murder charges against me. I—” The sound of a car horn brings me to my feet. “There’s Ellie.”
“I’ll help you get the girls ready,” Ashton says following me into the kitchen.
We collect the girls’ belongings, steer them out to Ellie’s waiting minivan, and watch them drive away.
Turning back towards the house, I say, “Thanks for stopping by, but I need to get to work.”
Ashton grabs me by the arm. “Not so fast. Who is pressuring Marlowe to charge you with Tracy’s murder?”
“Chief Dorsey. But Marlowe thinks someone higher up is pressuring him.”
“But there’s no evidence against you, is there?” When a pained expression crosses my face, Ashton says, “You’re holding something back.”
“What did you tell Detective Marlowe when he questioned you?”
Ashton lets her hand drop from my arm. “As little as possible. If you’re asking whether I told him you and Tracy were in a fight at the time of her accident, the answer is definitely no.”
“Because you know that would implicate me in her death. Do you think I killed my wife, Ashton?” I ask and watch closely for her reaction.
She jerks back her head in surprise. “No way! I was on the rescue boat that day. I witnessed you hanging over the side of your boat, searching the water for Tracy. And I saw how devastated you were when you boarded the rescue boat.” She tilts my chin. “Do I think you have some anger issues? Yes. But I don’t think you’re a murderer.”
“If only Tracy had let me drive, this never would’ve happened.”
“But she refused. She caused her own accident. Tracy was responsible, Will. Not you. But these angry outbursts are not helping. You need to get your anger under control before something really bad happens.”
