The Good Mom (8 page)

A wedding ring?
“Ah. Perhaps she had a jewelry box?”

“Yes, but after it happened, Mrs. Sharpe brought us Fleur's jewelry box and the ring wasn't there.”

“You think she might have hidden it inside the apartment?”

“I do think so. She...hid things in her closet as a girl. Perhaps it's tucked inside a box of shoes.”

“We have a right to get her things,” Albert said.

Of course they did. What was the matter with Aidan?

Ashley tried to imagine for a moment. Perhaps Fleur had wanted to get married. Her mother had sent her a wedding ring that might help things along. And Aidan, maybe angry, had done nothing.

This was none of her business. It wasn't what she'd come for today. But she felt sorry for these parents. She could certainly see their point.

Before she could decide what to do, the door to the apartment opened.

And Aidan stood there, looking like he badly needed a haircut.

* * *

“Y
OU
'
RE
STILL
HERE
,” Aidan said to Albert.

He had a splitting headache. He'd tried to grab a glass of water and some aspirin in the kitchen, but he'd dropped the glass, and it had shattered all over the floor. He'd left it there, but then he'd heard silence in the hallway. He'd come out to be sure the Sanbornes were gone. “I thought you left?” he said.

“You told us to call on you Saturday at noon,” Albert replied stubbornly. “Now it's Saturday at noon, and we've rented a van.”

“You said you were going to
call
me Saturday.
Call
me, not
call on
me.”

“What's the difference?”

“There's a huge difference!” For one thing, he was standing there in bare feet, old jeans and a too-tight T-shirt he'd grabbed from the back of his old closet in his grandmother's house that morning. For another thing, he wasn't feeling up for dealing with people.

Behind Albert, Aidan heard a throat clear. And then Ashley LaValley stepped out, taking a place beside Flo.

He stared at her, blinking. Not believing his eyes.

She looked like she'd come straight from work. A cute take-me-out-to-dinner dress, but with scuffed old working clogs. Her hair was up, and she was wearing makeup that made her big eyes look even bigger and her plump lips even plumper.

He stared another long moment, unable to speak.

She gave him a small, hopeful finger wave, which actually amused him. He laughed aloud like a crazy person, which by now, she should be well aware that he was.

He shook his head. The woman never stopped surprising him. Just like that, Aidan's anger evaporated a bit.

He glanced from Flo and Albert—the two people he'd once hoped would be his in-laws—to Ashley. Unpredictable Ashley.

She strode forward and touched his arm. “Dr. Lowe, please, you need to let us inside.”

“And why is that?” he asked her.

“What is going on with you?” Albert sputtered, rushing to Ashley's aid. “You're not only rude to us, but you're rude to your haircutter?”

His haircutter?

Ashley put her hands on her hips and shook her head at Aidan as if he were a naughty boy. “Dr. Lowe, you do need to let Flo and Albert inside.”

“I didn't call you,” Aidan reminded her. “Somehow you snuck your way up here.”

She set her chin. “Of course I'm needed here.” She smiled at Albert as if they were coconspirators. He should have known.

“While you meet with your haircutter,” Albert said, “Flo and I will take a look at Fleur's things. We're entitled to her belongings, you know. She had a will. I'm sorry, Aidan. We waited until you came home, but we don't want to wait any longer.”

Fleur had had a will because Doctor's Aid had asked them both to write wills before they'd left for overseas. Fleur had thought it a joke at the time.

The memory punched Aidan in the gut. He'd still loved her then, and the fact that Albert had rubbed that damn will in his face, no matter how inadvertently, didn't sit well with him.

Now he just seethed. “You'll get her stuff—don't you worry.”

Flo's tears started flowing again. “She had a ring that belonged to my mother. I gave it to her the Christmas before she left. All I want is to have it to remember her by.”

It was a
wedding
ring. Fleur had been irritated by it at the time because she'd considered it a hint and a criticism of her lifestyle choice. Although Aidan couldn't tell Flo that. It was the truth, but it wouldn't be fair to leave them with a hurtful memory of their daughter.

He knew he was acting badly today not letting them in. Even Ashley was giving him a censorious look. It was obvious she'd talked with them. They'd probably poured out their whole sad story.

“Please, Aidan. I just want to look for my mother's ring,” Flo begged.

He had that splitting headache, and he suddenly also felt dizzy, as if he was going to pass out. The thought of dealing with the contents of Fleur's closet—her personal things—was a prospect so uncomfortable to him that it brought up physical symptoms.

He grabbed at the edge of the door. “No,” was the only word he could get out as he waited for the feeling to pass.

And then Albert started speaking loudly, something about a judge and a will and an executor again, and Aidan had had it. Sick of all of them. He stood back to slam the door shut, but Ashley stuck her foot in the jamb. She was wearing those heavy white hairdressing clogs, like the female doctors and nurses at his hospital wore.

“I'll find it,” Ashley said quietly. “My sister put everything in hidey-holes. If Fleur hid things in this apartment, I will find them, Mrs. Sanborne.”

“Thank you,” Flo said, dabbing at her eyes.

Ashley opened her purse and handed her a clean tissue. “I'll also call downstairs,” she added, “and get some packing boxes sent up. If you and your husband will come back in two hours, I'll have your daughter's things boxed up for you.”

Aidan just stood there dumbfounded, unable to speak.

“And then I'll walk you through the apartment,” Ashley was promising, “and you can see that her things are out. Are you parked nearby? I assume there's a garage downstairs?”

“Yes, we left the van there.”

“That's good. I saw a coffee shop across the street when I arrived. It seemed very clean, and they have nice sandwiches in the window, too. Why don't you have something to eat? Here, I'll take your phone number down and call you when I'm done.”

“Are you finished?” he said to Ashley sarcastically, but she was paying attention to Flo, who was thanking her profusely and hugging her.

Flo then shot him a look as if he were evil.

Aidan swallowed, saying nothing. He watched Ashley walk them both to the elevator. When she came back, he opened the door and let her inside.

She stopped in the middle of the dusty parquet floor, and they looked at each other. She put both hands on her cheeks. Her skin was pale, and she was trembling. “I can't believe I just did that,” she whispered.

He could. “You're a kind person,” he said quietly.

“Why, Aidan? Why the cruelty?”

He sucked in his breath, hurt. He hadn't considered that he was being cruel.

“I'm wondering why you came today,” he said, instead of answering her question. “Is it about your son?”

She nodded. Glancing down at her scuffed clogs, she whispered, “I made a mistake.” She glanced up at him again, her big eyes appealing to him. “I never should have discouraged you from helping him. I would be grateful and honored if you would please tutor my son.” She tried to smile, but her lips quivered. “Please, I'm begging you to reconsider. Brandon really wants you to, as well.”

He toed the edge of the closet door. They were still in the entry hallway. He'd intended to stay for less than twenty minutes, just to see about grabbing some of his clothes. But then the reporters had been in the lobby, and that had spooked him, and then when he'd unlocked the door and come inside, he found that he couldn't even go as far as the bedroom to get anything.

“You don't mind boxing up a dead woman's things?” he asked Ashley.

Her cheeks paled even more, but she shook her head.

“So that's it, then? You mediate the family argument, box up Fleur's belongings, and in return I agree to tutor your son? That's what you want?”

She swallowed. “Yes, I very much want you to help Brandon. And I also want to help you and Fleur's parents.”

He gazed hard at her. “You'll do a lot for your son,” he noted.

“He's everything to me,” she whispered.

He thought about that. What must it be like to be
everything
to someone? He didn't think he'd ever really experienced that. The boy was lucky, in Aidan's opinion.

He pointed the way to the living area. Those low black leather couches he'd bought with his first real paycheck—dusty. The huge windows with no curtains—Fleur had loved them that way—also dusty. A year's worth of dust settled everywhere while they'd been off having an adventure and he'd been hoping to salvage his relationship.

Which hadn't worked. But that was a year ago.
Move on
, he told himself.

He followed behind Ashley as she tentatively walked ahead. He didn't mind following her—such a beautiful woman to watch. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, and her gaze darted about his and Fleur's old apartment, taking everything in.

Fleur would never have done such a thing in Ashley's shoes. Like his family, she would have hired someone to do the job. Easy and neat, without getting too involved.

He sat on the couch. The action kicked up dust, and he wrinkled his nose. The whole apartment smelled musty from being shut up. They should have gotten a tenant, or at least covered the furniture with sheets, but neither of them had even considered it. They'd been so damned busy...

Fleur had lived with him off and on for almost ten years. They'd finished their residency together, then had both worked at Wellness Hospital. Busy all the time, they were.

He pushed his hand through his hair. Really, all that was a lifetime ago now.

There was a knock on the door. He tensed, but Ashley strode forward and answered it, handling the caller. Bill—his doorman—from downstairs, had arrived with a pile of flattened cardboard boxes.

Bill seemed to have developed a first-name relationship with Ashley over the course of an elevator ride, and he lingered with her for a moment. Even in the depths of Aidan's headache and bad attitude, he noticed a twinge of jealousy.

He frowned. But Ashley closed the door, and then stood before him, setting down the pile of flattened boxes on the bare floor.

“Could you help me assemble these and tape the bottoms?” she asked him. “Bill gave me a roll of packing tape, so why don't we get started?”

“Bill,” Aidan said. “Did you know him before today?”

“No.” Her cheeks flushed as she bent over to assemble a box. “I had to convince him to let me upstairs, so I showed him my business card.” She smiled at him. “He found it very believable that you needed a haircut.”

He smiled back at her. He suddenly felt sad. “You shouldn't have to be here, doing this,” he said. “If it were up to me, I'd have locked the door behind me and then found a real estate agent to handle the whole thing.” He glanced at the boxes. “I'd have sent all the clothes and furnishings to charity. That's what I would have done.”

He stood and paced. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun glittered on the sea of the inner harbor. Far below, white sails flashed. He'd give anything to be leaving with those boats.

He glanced back at Ashley. Her cheeks were pink. Her eyes were downcast, and she wasn't looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You think I'm cruel again?”

“No.” She kept her eyes on the box she was taping. “I think that if you want the right to make those decisions, then maybe you should have married her.”

He paused, his whole body frozen.

Ashley groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry.”

He gave a dry laugh. “No, I'm interested in what you really think. You think I'm the one who didn't want to get married?”

A look flashed across her face, showing him that she was surprised. Wondering if she'd made a mistake, or if he was just arguing with her to pick a fight.

“The point is, you made an assumption about me,” he said to Ashley.

“Well...yes.” She gathered up the boxes and went into the bedroom. He found himself following her.

“Of course I made that assumption,” she said, plopping a half-assembled box on the floor and then kneeling beside it. She lifted a piece of tape with her fingernail. “I grew up in a house with a mother who was always upset because she wanted our father to marry her.” Viciously, she jerked the tape. “Oh, he came over a few times to visit that I remember, anyway, but that was the extent of his commitment.”

Aidan leaned against the doorjamb. He hadn't considered that she would have such a personal stake in the issue.

“That...must have been hard,” he said.

She tore more tape and assembled the box. “I spent most of my childhood consoling my mother. The rest of the time, I took care of my sister.”

And no one had taken care of Ashley, it seemed.

“So you see, Aidan, in a way, I can relate to your dilemma. You weren't married to Fleur, so you don't have the right to settle her estate or even choose which of her things to give away or not. My mother never had any legal rights like that with my father, either. My sister and I might have, if she'd pursued it, but she didn't.”

She finished assembling the box, and set it aside. “Shall we start?” She swallowed. “Where...did she keep her things?”