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We’d co-chaired a fundraiser for a healthcare center geared toward our community but welcoming everyone in the underserved neighborhood. We got to know each other, and when she left her previous job, it was a no-brainer to bring her to Eaton Cycles. I was also happy to make a dear friend.

I chuckled at her comment about meeting the right man. “Hey, if you have any ideas about how I can find the right man, please speak up.”

“Seems like that cutie who just walked out has a lot of potential, don’t you think?” Alexis smirked to emphasize the point.

Yeah, that was no lie. I shrugged. “Weston’s father was a good friend of my dad’s, and he became a go-between when it came to me and Dad. Claude was a biking enthusiast, and we used to go on rides together. He talked to me about the problems I had with my father and gave me things to think about, along with suggestions for diffusing the blow-ups between us.

“Claude also listened to my ideas for creating bikes I’d like to ride, and he pushed me to pursue my dreams, even backing me with the startup money for this place.” I held my hands up to emphasize the building where we were standing.

My heart seized at the memories as they flashed through my mind like an old nine-millimeter film. My eyes stung with unshed tears. Claude was a dear friend to me who I’d never forget.

I owed it to Claude to take care of his son—the same way he’d taken care of me when I needed him.

Chapter Five

Weston

I sat at my computer, trying to narrow down the million things necessary to write a proposal for Bridges Eaton to convince him that I’d succeed on the ride from New York to San Francisco.

Would I succeed? Damn if I wasn’t going to do my best. I owed it to my mother to prove I could take care of her. She’d taken care of me my whole life, and it was time for me to return the favor.

There was an article in a cycling magazine that gave a general outline of necessities for a biking trip the likes of which I was planning, so I took notes, needing to look up things like “panniers,” which are basically saddlebags, and “bivy sack.” The latter was a covering for a sleeping bag to make it waterproof and windproof for one person to sleep in anywhere, including on the side of a cliff. I think not.

The idea of sleeping on the ground—or the side of a cliff—for a month or more didn’t set my world on fire, and when I looked up how many hours it would take me to bike a hundred miles, I found out it would take five to seven hours, depending on my pace and if the terrain had steep hills. Being on a bike that long didn’t sound conducive to sleeping on the ground, so I needed to figure out something else when it came to accommodations for the trip.

The elevator in the living room dinged, signaling Mom was home. I really needed to talk to her about some things, so I closed my laptop and went down the hallway to the kitchen. She came into the room carrying two cloth grocery bags and wearing a big smile.

“Let me help you.” I hurried over to take the bags from her as she hung her purse on the hook under the breakfast bar before stopping at the sink to wash her hands. “What did you do today?”

Mom grinned. “I looked for a job and did a little shopping. I also went to lunch with Edmond. We had a long talk, and he clarified a few things. We won’t have to move. We can rent back the townhouse for the year at a reduced rate that we can afford. He’s going to help me find a job, and he’s promised to give me access to his car service so I don’t have to ride the bus or the subway, though I have no problem doing either. He said I can let you use the car service if you need it while you’re looking for a job.”

I began unbagging the groceries when a brilliant thought came to me. “I won’t need to use the car service. I have my bike. Also, I sat down with Bridges today to discuss my charity proposal. He’s agreed to help me with it, and he suggested that he’ll provide for you so you don’t have to get a job. I’ll pay him back after the bike trip next year.” It was a truth adjacent, after all.

Mom’s face fell. “Weston Edmond Aames, I absolutely refuse to take one red cent from Bridges Eaton. I’m a grown woman who can take care of myself. Have you lost your mind? I’m going to work at Chaney & Associates. You need to worry about you, and at twenty-five, it’s a good time for you to start.”

That was probably the most critical thing my mother had ever said to me. Here, I’d been worried about her and worked it out with Bridges that he’d help us out by taking care of my mother while I worked on this problem Dad dumped into my lap. It seemed a bit ungrateful for her to poo-poo my idea like that.

At least one thing was settled. We didn’t have to move.

An hour later, Mom and I still hadn’t said a word to each other. She’d made pasta with marinara sauce and spicy sausage for our dinner, which was delicious, but the meal was awkwardly silent. I quickly decided I needed to do something to fix this riff between us.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’ll text Bridges that you don’t want his money.”

“Damn right I don’t want his money. Sometimes, Weston, I wonder if you’ll ever learn to take responsibility for your actions. You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. Now, clean up the dinner dishes. I’m going to soak in a warm bath.”

She stomped off without another word, leaving me with a mess. My father used to tell my mother that I should have chores to do around the house, but Mom never pulled the trigger on a chore chart. She told me I had enough things to worry about with school and extracurricular activities. I guess since I was out of school now and had an MBA, chores were back on the table.

I’d watched Renata clean up the kitchen a million times while I sat at the island doing homework over the years, so I went to work. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom any more than I already had. Scraping and rinsing the plates, I loaded the dishwasher, along with the pot and pan that Mom used to make the sauce and boil the pasta.

Checking the cleaning products under the sink, I didn’t find those little pods that I’d seen Renata put in the little cup on the door of the dishwasher, but I did find something that read “dishwashing liquid,” so I grabbed it and filled the compartment where the pod usually went.

After closing the door, I hit start on the control panel and left the kitchen to get back to my research. I grabbed my phone from my pocket to send a text to Bridges.

Bridges—Mom said thanks so much for the offer of support, but she got a job. Also, Edmond said we don’t have to move; we just have to pay rent for the apartment back to the trust. Thank you for your offer to help, but Mom and I are going to figure this out. Thanks again. West

Did I sound sincere? The last thing I wanted to do was piss off Bridges. I had no idea how to deal with things that were uncomfortable. Mom and Dad always did those things for me. I definitely didn’t want to offend the man since he was offering to help me.

Later that evening, I continued the research I’d started the previous night. I found gear I’d need for the trip: padded biking shorts, brightly colored biking jerseys so I was visible to cars sharing the road, a waterproof jacket, and biking gloves.