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“That’s really cool, Ava.”
I glance down at it with sadness. “It’s a shame it’s in shambles. With all my pregnancy complications, I haven’t been able to assemble it.”
Gabe gives a slight jerk of his head. “C’mon, let’s put it together.”
“You sure? Don’t you have to get back to the office?”
“My next meeting’s not till two. Are you up for it?”
Before I can respond, Gabe lowers himself to the carpeted floor and sits cross-legged. My hand to my swollen stomach, I manage without any pain to squat down and join him, sitting beside him in the same fashion. My shoulder brushes against his and the scent of his beachy aftershave wafts up my nostrils. He smells good. Like a salty ocean breeze.
Piece by piece we put the two-story, six-room bright-pink house together, furnishings and all. In silence, we admire our handiwork. Gabe the builder, me the decorator. A team.
“I always fantasized living in a house like this,” I say wistfully. “It reminds me of Ned’s parents’ pink house with its white-painted terrace and shuttered windows.”
“Yeah, a lot.”
“I once saw a spread on their house in a magazine. It was gorgeous. Did you know it was built in the 1930s by Paul Williams, the renowned Black architect who designed the Beverly Hills Hotel?”
“No, that’s interesting.”
I let out a sigh. “I wish it never got sold.”
“Actually, it never was.”
Wide-eyed with surprise, I turn to look at him. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. It was put into a trust.”
I’m shocked to hear this. I just assumed it was sold after Isabelle and Edward perished. Gabe continues.
“Ned’s parents stipulated in their will that he could sell it only after producing an heir and staying in a marriage until the child was eighteen.”
More shocking news. I think about the contents of the Endeavor envelope and inwardly shudder.
“Gabe, what would happen if Ned suddenly died?”
“I don’t know. I don’t specialize in that area of law.” He inhales, then shrugs out a breath. “But, frankly, I don’t think your tough old man’s going anywhere.”
For a second I wonder: Does Gabe know Ned has arrhythmia?
Wordlessly, he helps me return the unused miniature pieces of furniture to the Ziploc bag where they were stored. The last piece a canopy bed.
Inadvertently, our fingers touch. Maybe it’s not an accident.
There’s an awkward silence between us. Only the sound of two pounding hearts fills the air until Gabe breaks the quiet.
“Ava.” He says my name tentatively. “About that night…I’m sor?—”
I cut him off and rest my hand on his thigh.
“Don’t be. Because I’m not.”
TWENTY-SIX
AVA
Almost a Year Ago
