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My eyes roll. “Yeah, sure.”
He meanders to the door, sets his hand on the knob, and glances at me over his shoulder. “Also. Don’t go swimming while I’m gone. I can and will just order another one. So please don’t worry about it. I mean it.”
I throw him the finger, wait for the door to close behind him, then take off my stupid blazer.
Chapter 5
Some things can’t be bought.
– Finnegan
“November 30th…” my mother murmurs as she looks at the picture of Marcella on my phone. My little pumpkin’s scowl and rolling eyes are too cute for words. With her scrunched nose and crossed arms, she looks livid, but the tiny gold necklace resting against her chest tells me everything I need to know about her character.
When I insisted on taking this picture several hours ago, she smelled like fish.
“She’s very pretty.” My mother smiles, returning my phone. “Why haven’t I heard about her before? November is so soon for a wedding. And you’re very important. Are you sure she isn’t after your money, Finny?”
My chest pinches, but I keep smiling. “I’m sure. She’s very low maintenance.”
My mother’s thin white brows rise. “Really? She was dressed so nicely.”
“She takes care of herself.” Absolutely wouldn’t spend thirty minutes skipping breakfast to search through pebbles in a koi pond for a tiny pumpkin charm she hates. No, no, no. Couldn’t be her. Wouldn’t be her, rather. Certainly not. “I wanted you to meet her tonight, but something came up.”
My mother’s small frame droops as she eases back against the floral print sofa in her modest home where I maintain a full staff that sees to everything she needs. Given her accelerating condition, keeping everything close is…safer. “Pity.” Her lips pout. “Does she not like me?”
“What?” I pocket my phone and tut. “Don’t be silly. She’s just a little shy.”
“Shy,” my mother repeats. Her mind drifts, and it takes everything in me to wait out the ripple, knowing in a moment this entire conversation will be gone. When her attention refocuses on me, her smile spears me through the chest. “Finny, do you know when your father will be home? I’d like to try a new casserole tonight. I hope he likes it.”
It hurts to swallow.
Dad’s been dead for years. And Mom hasn’t been able to cook for…
Well.
I’d really rather not think about the last time I had a home-cooked meal of my mother’s.
“Why don’t you tell me about the last casserole Dad loved? What was it again…peanut butter carrot loaf?”
She laughs. “No, no. We all hated that. What a disaster.” As she drifts into the story of the infamous—and utterly terrible—creation, I find myself piecing her words together before she finds them. I weave them in my head until they’re full pictures that I can copy and keep. Forever.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, doctor visits and test results and projections plague me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, she may make it to January, but December is more realistic crushes the breath from my lungs.
Once she’s gone, I’ll have no family left.
Even now, just the idea of that loneliness leaves me feeling bitterly cold before fall has had any chance to change over the seasons. I will be alone in winter. Possibly alone for Christmas. No one I’m close with isn’t linked to the business. No parties or events or breakfasts, lunches, dinners I have aren’t networking.
All throughout my childhood and into inheriting my father’s industry, it’s been hard to find people without ulterior motives. When having a cold warrants news coverage, it’s hard to put faith in friends, never knowing when they might turn their backs on me and use personal information as their next publicity stunt. Being at the top of the world means being in a constant spotlight with constant surveillance. Trust is a commodity in short supply.
But, then again, so are women who would sift through a koi pond for a cheap piece of jewelry.
One way or another, it will be okay.
I will be okay.
Even if all the money in the world can’t buy me more time.
Chapter 6
