by Sey, Susan
“Oh, my dear. You’re such a treasure.” Bianca cupped Addy’s cheek in a soft palm that carried the most delicate whiff of turpentine. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Addy put her hand over Bianca’s and smiled. “Let’s not find out.”
Bianca’s lips trembled into a watery smile. “Oh, heavens. Let’s not.”
Jax said, “Yeah, what would we do without Saint Addy?” But there was a hard edge on his voice that had wariness coiling inside her.
“I’m hardly a saint,” she said with a careful smile for him. “Just family.” She turned back to Bianca. “And this is what family does, right?”
“No, this is what you do.” Jax aimed a finger at her. “You raid your savings without a second thought to bail the family out of a disaster they could have headed off years ago if they’d just listened when you told them their money manager was an incompetent ass. Which you did, repeatedly.” He shifted that accusing finger to Bianca. “What the family does, however, is blow you off like you don’t have an MBA from Wharton.”
“Almost.” Addy’s response was automatic, and she heard her own voice through a thin film of shock. Because evidently Jax was as conversant with her transcripts as with his family’s finances. What on earth? “I dropped out.”
“With, what, your capstone project to go?” He waved that off as inconsequential. “For all practical purposes, you have an advanced degree in managing a giant corporation, the validity of which I’d have seriously questioned if you hadn’t brushed the likes of Jason Bloom off your portfolio as soon as humanly possible.”
“The likes of Jason Bloom?” Bianca drew back, her nostrils flaring with a flash of her old spirit. “And what, precisely, does that mean? Jason’s family has been managing our finances for generations, and with great success! How on earth were we supposed to foresee that—”
“He’s been running you into the ground for years.” Jax interrupted without heat, just implacable logic. “From what Carly’s let slip, Jason’s already liquified as much of your portfolio as possible over the past few years, and with your consent.”
“Well, yes, but—” Bianca frowned. “He said it had been a lean period, economically speaking. Perfectly normal. But we’d been through thin times before. It was nothing to worry about.” She blinked, suddenly uncertain. Addy’s heart ached. Bianca didn’t falter, not ever. She almost hated Jax for making her do it now. “Should I have worried?”
“Yes.” Jax was relentless. Addy glared at him but, as usual, he ignored her. “You should always worry.”
Bianca sighed and sat back. “I paid Jason so I wouldn’t have to.”
“And look how well that’s worked out for you.”
Bianca simply closed her eyes and Addy stood up from her crouch, hands on hips. She stepped between Jax and his mother.
“Enough,” she said softly. “Jax, enough.”
He scowled but jerked those bulky shoulders and looked away. Addy took this as capitulation. She sat down next to Bianca and took her hand.
“This isn’t your fault,” she murmured. “This is Jason’s fault.” She sent Jax a significant look. “This is his failing, not yours.”
Jax rolled his eyes, but when he spoke again it was more gently. “Okay, look. Fault doesn’t matter, not at this point. What matters is figuring out where things stand now and where to go from here. I’m sure Addy will get all the details when she talks to Carly but I think it’s probably safe to say that — setting aside your retirement funds and anything else that you can’t liquify without prohibitive tax penalties — all that’s left of your investments is what you hold in Devil’s Kettle proper. And you can’t liquify any of that without significant local impact.”
Bianca blinked at the ceiling, then rolled her head to the side to blink at Addy. “Was that English? Is my son speaking English to me?”
Jax’s mouth tightened but his tone remained gentle. Almost kind, in fact. “In plain English, then. Liquifying your local investments would mean selling whatever you own in town. Some of it’s property, but a lot of it is stock in local businesses. Selling that stock would mean demanding a cash buy-out from Gerte and Lainey down at the Wooden Spoon, for example. Same goes for Soren Buck at the Bait and Tackle, and for Walt at the Sugar Rush, and so on and so forth.” He sent Addy a sideways look. “It would mean pulling out of the Devil Days festival, too. The Davises own forty percent of that corporate entity, you know.”
“Of course I know.” Addy squeezed Bianca’s hand. “Devil Days would survive.”
Matty blinked. “Wait, we own a festival?”
“You do,” Jax informed his brother. You, Addy noticed. Not we. It was never we when it came to Jax and the family. Not that you’d know it from this conversation. “About the only person you wouldn’t have to put the squeeze on is Peter Zinc.”
“Peter,” Georgie murmured, her perfect lips curving up into a cat-like smile. She didn’t even open her eyes, just purred her boyfriend’s name like he was a really good dream, or a bar of the richest chocolate. A spark of envy took Addy by surprise. Even when she’d been in love with Diego, she didn’t think she’d ever said his name quite the way Georgie said Peter’s.
“We are not pulling out of Devil’s Kettle.” Bianca’s spine snapped straight and her tone went flinty. Relief was a warm rush in Addy’s chest. Bianca was back. “This town is our home. Our heritage. We’d sooner sell Hill Top House than pull out of our investments here. These people are our family, Jax! How could you even suggest such a thing?”
“I’m not, necessarily.” Jax met his mother, flint to flint. “But you need to understand the extent of the trouble you’re in here. This isn’t a simple cash-flow crisis, Mom. Your entire financial structure has just crumbled.” He gripped his knees and leaned in. “You’re not broke — not yet — but if you want to keep it that way, you’re going to need to make some serious lifestyle changes.”
Addy swallowed but didn’t argue. Jax was so rarely wrong. He wasn’t wrong now, much as she wished he were.
“What about my trust fund?” Georgie asked suddenly. “I know nobody can touch Matty’s till he’s twenty-five but I’m twenty-seven. Can’t I, I don’t know, sign it over to Mom or something?”
“I doubt you’re in any better shape than Mom is,” Jax told her. “Jason likely screwed you, too.”
“He did.” Bianca told her, then sent a glance to Matty. “He couldn’t touch Matty, obviously, but Georgie is over twenty-five, so…” She dwindled off delicately. Georgie only closed her eyes and deflated into the couch cushions again.
“All right, now, it’s not so grim as all that,” Bianca said, rallying with a visible effort. “We aren’t without options.”
“We aren’t?” Matty asked, alarm making his face sharper than his years should allow.
“Of course not.” Bianca’s smile spread, sleek and satisfied. It warmed Addy’s heart even as foreboding twitched inside her. She exchanged a guarded look with Jax. Bianca with a plan was sometimes a dangerous thing. “We’re Davises, aren’t we? We may not have cash but we still have talent.”
“Not me.” Matty’s tone went from alarmed to grimly resigned. “I’m completely talent-free. You said so earlier.”
“Having talent and taking the trouble to hone it are two separate things,” Bianca said serenely. “However, in this instance, I’m not talking about your talent. I’m talking about mine. UMD’s Art Department has offered me several positions over the years. I’m considering taking one.”
“At UMD?” Matty stared. “As in the University of Minnesota? In Duluth?”
“Unless the D stands for dumbass.” Georgie said without opening her eyes.
“Georgie,” Addy murmured reprovingly. Georgie only snuggled deeper into the couch.
Matty said, “Duluth is, like, four hours away. You said we wouldn’t sell Hill Top House. You said we weren’t moving.”
“We’re not.” Bianca reached across Georgie and Jax to touch Matty’s
knee. “Darling, we’re not. We’re a family. We stay together. But—” She drew in a deep breath. “—it may be prudent to take an apartment in Duluth for the school year.” She held up a hand to forestall any protest. “We would be home on the weekends, of course.”
Matty recoiled. “You want to live there?”
“Of course I don’t,” Bianca snapped. “But—”
“Neither do I!” Matty’s mouth trembled, then firmed into a black scowl. Addy’s heart twisted inside her. Matty was thirteen, for pity’s sake. He was in middle school, and those places were shark tanks. Addy was something of an expert on the subject, having survived six of them. Being the new kid in middle school qualified as cruel and unusual punishment. No kid should experience it, let alone her beloved Matty.
“But it looks like I don’t get a choice, do I?” Matty said. “Mom screws up, so I have to move.” He dropped forward, elbows on knees, to scowl at the plush white rug between his feet. “What the crap am I supposed to do in Duluth?”
“You could consider focusing on your art.” Bianca glared at him. “On developing your gift.”
“I don’t have a gift,” Matty muttered.
“Of course you do.” She turned away from him, uninterested in further discussion on the subject. “Not that reading piles of silly comic books—”
“Graphic novels,” Matty snapped.
“—is going to help you discover it.”
“Geez, Mom! When are you going to get it?” Matty leaped to his feet, eyes alight with a pain-laced fury that made Addy’s heart constrict inside her chest. “I’m not hiding my talent under a pile of graphic novels. You’re not finding it because it’s not there.”
Bianca pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “Matty, please. I’m having a difficult enough day without you throwing tantrums.”
“I’m not throwing tantrums, I’m telling you the truth.”
“You’re thirteen.” She laughed wearily. “What do you know about the truth?”
“Enough to know that I’m not Diego.”
Addy stopped breathing and Bianca’s face went the cold, hard white of marble. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not Diego, Mom. Okay? I’m not him. I look like him but I can’t paint like him and the sooner you—”
“Enough.” Bianca’s voice cracked like a whip and Addy had the insane impulse to fling herself in front of Matty to protect him from it. “That’s enough.”
Matty flinched back, a little boy cowed by the icy fury in his mother’s voice. Then the little boy disappeared under a wash of answering rage, and Addy’s stomach leapt into her throat. “No, it’s not enough,” he snapped. “It’s not nearly enough. Because I’m sick of this crap. I’m sick of paying for everybody else’s mistakes.” He shot a finger at his mother with teenaged fury, but that was a man-sized fist trembling at his side. “You effed up our money, Mom, not me. If somebody has to move to Duluth, it should be you. I’ll stay right here.”
Bianca rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s a workable plan.”
But Matty wasn’t finished. “And as for Diego, he’s dead.” Bianca’s gasp was sharp and shocked, and Addy’s heart thudded once — hard — then froze in her chest. “He went on a bender in New York City and he died, okay?”
Addy’s mouth was so dry she didn’t know if she could speak. They’d kept the uglier details of Diego’s death from Matty. He’d only been nine; they’d tried to protect him. “Matty,” she managed weakly, “how do you—”
“Kids talk, Addy.” He laughed, and it was Diego’s laugh. Harsh. Bitter. “I know more than you think.” He glared at his mother again. “So I’m sorry he’s dead, Mom, but it wasn’t my fault. It was his. And I’m sick of paying for his mistakes. I’m even sicker of trying to replace him.”
“Matty, no.” Addy jumped to her feet, her stomach twisting violently. “You’re wrong. It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that.” He gave his mother one last glare, one last chance to deny it. Bianca sat silently, an exquisitely rendered portrait of abused love and bottomless grief. Matty gave a disgusted snort and turned from her. Snatched up his lacrosse bag and swung it over his shoulder with an athlete’s fluid grace. The shock of seeing him in such easy command of his rangy new body went off in Addy’s stomach like a little bomb. He even moved like Diego these days. “I have to go.”
She shook off the weight of memory, dragged herself back to the present. “Matty, come on—” But her lips were numb, clumsy.
“I have practice, Addy. Josh is picking me up.” He shot one last bitter look toward his mother. “I’m going to wait outside.” He loped toward the door.
“You should practice,” Bianca called after him. Evidently getting the last word trumped silent guilt trips in her hierarchy of argument winners. “Only instead of hitting your friends with sticks, you should practice something that matters! Like your painting!”
The door slammed in answer and Bianca pressed her fingers to her closed eyes, her lips white, the tendons standing out in the backs of her slender hands. Addy jammed her fists into her hips and stood there, torn between Bianca’s grief and Matty’s pain. Jax frowned thoughtfully at his mother while Georgie, to all appearances, continued to snooze comfortably in the corner of the couch.
“Well,” Bianca said finally. She dropped her hands and released a long breath through her nose. “I think that went well, don’t you?”
Chapter 5
ADDY HESITATED, CAUGHT between reassuring her mother-in-law and going after Matty.
“Oh, yeah,” Jax said, nodding slowly. “Smooth sailing, Mom.”
Bianca dropped her hand and glared at him. “Heaven’s sakes, Jax. Can’t you just be supportive for once? We’re in crisis here. Doesn’t family mean anything to you?”
Addy drifted a few steps toward the back door, toward Matty, toward his pain.
“Of course it does,” Jax said, and snagged Addy’s elbow. Suddenly her butt was planted on the sofa beside his and she stared at him, shocked. She didn’t know what startled her more, his interference or the fact that he’d voluntarily touched her.
“No,” he said to her quietly. “Let him hit his friends with sticks for a few hours first.”
She opened her mouth to argue but the look he sent her shut it again.
Bianca said, “And yet Addy’s the only one to offer anything but criticism.”
“I offered you my trust fund,” Georgie put in. She didn’t even lift her head to speak.
“Which no longer exists,” Jax reminded her.
“Not my fault.” Georgie snuggled deeper into her corner of the couch.
Jax turned back to Bianca. “Look, I’m not criticizing, okay? I’m trying to help.”
“You could pony up your trust fund,” Georgie pointed out. “That would be helpful.” She actually sat up and there was a suppressed glee in her voice that lifted Addy’s eyebrows. “I’ll bet it’s fat and healthy, too. You being so...you.”
“It probably is,” Jax said evenly. “The folks who run the Burn Survivors Foundation have crack accountants.”
Addy blinked at him. Jax had given away his trust fund? Her shock melted as quickly as it had come. He didn’t use the money; of course he wouldn’t keep it. She should’ve known that. Georgie certainly had.
Bianca, however, had not. She stared at him. “You gave away your trust fund?”
“Not all of it.” Jax rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. First I bought myself a house and a very nice long-term disability policy. It seemed prudent, given my line of work. But the rest?” He smiled. “Yeah. I gave it away.”
Bianca continued to gape. “You gave it away?”
“Mom, come on. I didn’t exactly leave myself destitute.”
“That money was your legacy!”
“That money was a straitjacket. Plus I think we’re all clear on the fact that I’m never living up to that particular legacy. I don’t need money that comes with expectations; I can make my own.”
Make his own what, Addy wondered? Money? Expectations? Both?
Jax paused, as if he’d caught himself on some old path he knew better than to wander down. He said, “You can make your own living, too, you know. But if you didn’t want to try it out, maybe you should have kept better tabs on your money manager.”
Bianca smiled thinly. “Unfortunately, prevention is no longer an option here. But I do agree with you about one thing.”
“You do?” Jax’s brows rose. “What’s that?”
“It’s time to focus on the now.” Bianca pulled in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “We need to understand where we are, what our options are and how to select one.” She shifted her gaze to encompass Addy and Georgie, too. “Which is why I’ve called you all here. Not to fight. To think.” She reached for Addy’s hand this time. “Addison, I’m so grateful for your offer to tide us over. You can’t know what it means to me.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Addy said, squeezing her hand. “I wish I could do more.”
“It’s too much already.” Bianca’s smile trembled. “But even as generous as it is, Jax would be the first to point out that it’s a temporary solution. And as I don’t particularly want to begin my tenure as an art professor—”
There was a beat of silence, thick with the effort it cost Jax not to comment. In spite of everything, a smile tugged at Addy’s mouth. He was practically sweating.
“—I’m hoping that between us we can develop an alternative solution,” Bianca finished. “So let’s brainstorm.” She tilted Jax a look. “That’s brainstorm, darling. It’s a term creative people use. It means to think freely, broadly and without judgment.”
“Ah.” Jax nodded wisely. “I’d wondered.”
Addy shook her head. These two were like Gerte and Lainey, only with the gloves off. She’d be more worried about it if they both didn’t seem to enjoy the brawl so much.
She looked at Georgie — mostly asleep again in the corner of the couch — then at Jax, who was simply gazing at his mother with undisguised impatience and equally undisguised affection. Nobody offered a suggestion, so Addy finally blurted out the words that had been wedged in her throat since Bianca’s first mention of money trouble.