I laughed. “Now I know you’re lying. You don’t even like ice cream.”
“That’s because my teeth are sensitive. It has nothing to do with the weather.”
“Please don’t worry about me, Mom.” I stepped forward to wrap my arms around her. “I’m a big girl. I’ll get through this just like everyone else does. Now, I imagine we need to find Dad and get you to the airport before you get bumped from your flight.” I squeezed her tighter, wishing for an instant they’d miss their flight so I could keep them just a little longer.
“Oh, your father called a cab. It should be here soon.”
I let out a breath, not sure if I should be relieved or annoyed. “I told you I’d take you. You didn’t need to call a cab.”
“Nonsense. You’ve been through enough this weekend.” She pressed her lips to my forehead and lingered. “Besides, you don’t need to chauffeur us around in this horrible weather.”
I knew she was thinking I couldn’t handle driving on the same icy roads that had killed David, and maybe she was right. Maybe I couldn’t. The thought of getting into a car on snow-covered roads made me shudder, but the reality of being alone in that house was worse than anything else I could imagine.
I bobbed my head a few times. “Okay. You’re right.”
“Do you have everything you need?” My dad stepped out of the kitchen with their coats slung over his arm and glanced at Mom and me. I knew he’d waited to come out until we’d had our moment. I guess being married to my mother for over thirty years had given him more than his share of insight into the feminine mind. I’d always teased David that it might take thirty years, but I’d get him trained.
The sadness in Mom’s eyes cut me as she picked up her wrinkled sweater and pulled it over her head. “I’m all packed up and ready to go.”
A loud honk sounded from the driveway. “Perfect timing.” Dad helped Mom into her coat before tucking me under his chin the way he did when I was a kid. “You take care of yourself, Sweet Pea. And call us if you need anything.”
“I’ll miss you, Daddy.”
“We’re only a phone call away.” Dad kissed my forehead before letting go of me to pick up the bags.
“Oh, Alex.” My mother sobbed into my shoulder as she grabbed me for another hug. “Please eat. Don’t let yourself waste away. David wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“I promise. No wasting away.”
The horn honked again.
Dad checked his watch. “We’d better go. I have no doubt we’re already on the meter.”
From my front door, I waved as my parents climbed into the yellow cab and disappeared down the street. The emptiness inside me grew the farther away they got. For the first time since Wednesday, I was completely alone, and as much as I told myself that was what I wanted, I knew better.
I grabbed a coat and my keys, and before I’d decided where I was going, I’d backed out of the garage in my charcoal-gray Cayenne—the only Porsche equipped to handle the brutal Michigan winters. Even as a steady blanket of snow fell, the roads were still mostly dry as I weaved around the small town with no real destination in mind.
No sooner had the bright neon sign caught my eye, than I’d made the turn into the parking lot of my favorite coffee shop, Bean There, Donut That. As I entered the quaint building—a diner in its previous life, complete with shiny metal counters and red vinyl stools—I shook the snow off my coat and stomped my boots.
Natalie stuffed a giant blueberry muffin into a brown paper bag and handed it to an older gentleman. “Here ya go, Stanley. I threw in a few extra blueberries this morning, just for you.”
Stanley beamed at her and pulled his coat tight before heading back into the cold. The morning rush had ended, and aside from the few stragglers grabbing steaming cups to go, I was the only customer in the place.
“Well, there she is. Hello, stranger.” Natalie greeted me from behind the counter with a toothy grin. “How ya holding up?”
“Other than getting tired of people asking me how I’m holding up, I’m holding up just fine.” The fake smile had become a permanent fixture on my face.
“Sure you are.” Natalie’s features morphed into a rigid scowl. “That’s why you look like you slept in your clothes and haven’t bathed in days.”
“What did you expect? Dolce trousers and Ferragamo shoes? It’s barely in the double digits out there, and it’s been snowing since October.”
Natalie wiped a trail of crumbs from the counter. “And that’s stopped you from wearing the high-end shit before? Not a chance, princess. But hey, far be it from me to keep you from self-destructing. You’re allowed, under the circumstances.”
“Thanks. I was hoping dressing incognito would keep the natives from hunting me down to lynch me in the town square.” I hopped onto one of the red vinyl stools to face my only friend in town.
Natalie laughed as she poured me a cup of coffee. “No one wants to lynch you.”
“It certainly doesn’t feel that way. First, I take the most eligible bachelor in town… the guy half the single women are pining for—including his ex-wife, as it turns out—then I dress inappropriately at his funeral.”
“Who says it was inappropriate? You wore what David would have wanted you to wear. Wasn’t he the one who said, ‘Don’t wear black to my funeral’?”
“Right, no one but you knows that, do they?” I swirled a splash of cream into my cup and wondered if my husband had somehow known his time was drawing near when we’d discussed funerals just weeks before his death. “And why was he with Sarah, anyway? People are probably already gossiping.”
“They could have been together for any number of reasons. They had a child together. And as for what everyone else thinks… fuck them. I couldn’t give a shit about what those old crones have to say, and you shouldn’t either. David loved you, and he’d be absolutely livid to see you walking around like this.” She tugged on the sleeve of the Spartan sweatshirt. “This isn’t you, Alex.”
I yanked my arm back. “Well, this still smells like David, and I’m not quite ready to take it off. Thank you very much.”
“Sweetie, I’m not trying to push you. I know you need to take time to mourn. But don’t let it drown you. Okay?”
My head bobbed a few times as I stared into my murky cup. “I won’t.”
“You know—” A smirk danced across Natalie’s crimson lips. “—Now that I think about it, you are perfectly dressed for mopping my floors. I had to fire that kid I had working for me. The little shit showed up drunk last week.”
My mouth fell open. “That high school kid? He couldn’t be more than sixteen.”
“Seventeen. But trust me. They start younger and younger all the time.” She bumped my elbow. “So, whatta ya say? Grab a broom and a mop, and keep me company today?”
“Can’t.” I took a gulp of coffee. “I have an appointment with David’s lawyer before lunch.”
Her eyes widened as she raked them over me. “You’re going home to change first, right?”
“I don’t see why I should.”
Natalie shook her head as she muttered what sounded like, “Drowning.”
The offices of Howard, Barnes, and Schultz were located in an old brick building just off Main Street. From what I understood, old man Howard had been David’s family attorney for years. He’d even represented David in his divorce. I’d met him at the funeral, but this would be my first time seeing him in an official capacity.
The man clasped my hands in his and squeezed. Instead of a suit, he’d dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a forest-green sweater as if he’d come in on his day off to meet with me. Lines marked his round face, making him look sad. “First of all, I want to offer my condolences again. David was more than just a client. I’ve known him since he was a boy. His father was one of m
y dearest friends.”
“Thank you.” I wriggled my fingers free of his grip and settled into the leather chair across from him.
“Now, I’m sure you’re aware David has left you the house on Grant Street, but since Mrs. Barrett…” He coughed loudly then reached for his cup and took a sip. “I mean, the former Mrs. Barrett has also passed, you would inherit the house on Maple Drive as well.”
“Wait.” I felt a sharp twinge, and my stomach roiled. “Why would I inherit Sarah’s house? Shouldn’t that go to someone in her immediate family?”
“Well, David owned the Maple Drive house. Had he preceded Mrs. Barr—Sarah—she would have inherited that residence, but since he did not, it would go to you along with the rest of his estate—the bank accounts, stocks and bonds, and the automobiles. Of course, he’s provided for Madison. He even added a provision for future children.” Mr. Howard’s eyes zeroed in on my midsection, lingering for a moment longer than was polite, before shifting back to my face. “But until Madison reaches her twenty-first birthday, you would be in charge of her trust fund.”
The twisting sensation intensified. “Why would I be in charge of that?”
“As her legal guardian—”
“What!” My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean? I never agreed to that.” My stomach gurgled and churned, making me regret that last cup of coffee. My mind raced as I tried to remember a single conversation about me acting as a guardian for his daughter, legal or otherwise. I drew a great big blank.
Mr. Howard frowned. “I would have thought David had discussed this with you?”
“No.” I blew out a breath, gripping the edge of my seat to keep my hands from shaking. “David most definitely did not discuss this with me.”
“There are other options, of course, but it’s my hope that you wouldn’t consider those.” A bead of sweat formed above his brow, and he shuffled the papers in front of him, avoiding eye contact. “As the only suitable family member, were you to refuse to take responsibility of the minor child, she would revert to the custody of social services.”
Social Services? Did he just say Maddie would become a ward of the state? “Are you saying if I refuse, she goes to foster care?” My voice came out in a squeak.
His eyes locked on mine, and I read the sadness—or was it disappointment?—in them. “In a nutshell, yes.”
“What about her grandparents? Her aunt?”
His lips curved into a weak smile. “I realize you hadn’t been married for long, but did David ever mention he had no living relatives?”
I leaned back in my chair, my insides still twisting uncomfortably. Panic attack, or morning sickness rearing its ugly head again? Maybe I should find a restroom. “Yes… yes of course, I knew that. But what about Sarah’s mother or sister?”
He shook his head. “Both David and Sarah were very specific in their wills that Maddie not have extended access to either of those individuals. There is a long documented history of substance abuse and legal trouble that I would rather not get into at this time.”
My skin prickled, and my hands went to my stomach. I wasn’t even sure I’d be ready when our baby came, and David had left his daughter to me? I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a teenager, specifically, a teenager who’d made no secret of her distaste for me since the very first day her father had introduced us.
Heat spread across my chest and up my neck until I felt it in my hairline. Black spots swirled in my vision as the sparse contents of my stomach threatened to come back. I stood on unsteady legs. “I don’t feel well. Is there a restroom?”
Mr. Howard bolted out of his chair to my side, taking my arm in his as he guided me across the room. “Right through here.” He ushered me through a door then closed it behind me.
Dry heaves wracked my body as I fell to my knees in front of the polished white porcelain. Other than the coffee from this morning, there was nothing left to bring up. I sat on the cold tile floor for a few minutes until I was sure my body had finished its assault on me then lathered my hands with lavender soap and took a few sips of water directly from the sink, hoping to wash away the sour taste in my mouth. My stomach clenched on itself, and I suddenly wished I’d taken my mother’s advice to eat something. The baby wasn’t due for six months, and already I’d done a terrible job as a parent. Too many days had passed since I’d finished a meal, and it was obviously taking its toll.
Once I’d dried my hands and smoothed my hair back into the messy topknot, I stepped out to apologize to Mr. Howard. “I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t prepared—”
“Nonsense.” He waved off my apology, his gaze resting on the baggy sweatshirt covering my abdomen again, and I wondered if David had told him before… “You’ve just lost your husband. It’s understandable under the circumstances.”
If anyone else said “under the circumstances” to me, I’d explode. “Really, I think I just need a day or two to process this. Can I call you next week to discuss my options?”
“That would be fine. Do you know where Madison is now? Should I find someone to take care of her until you’ve made up your mind?”
“She’s with a friend. She should be fine for a few days. I’ll check in with them tomorrow.” The pain in my abdomen grew stronger, the nausea morphing into something sharper, and I gripped the hem of my shirt, twisting it in my hands. My skin crawled with the overwhelming need to get out of there before a full-blown panic attack set in.
I held out a hand to Mr. Howard, and he took it in both of his. “Call me next week, Alex. Don’t worry. Things will work themselves out. In my experience, they usually do.”
“Thank you.” I tried to smile but was certain it came off as more of a grimace as stabbing pain attacked my insides. Before he could say anything, I turned and hurried out of the office and to my car.
I’d barely turned the key in the ignition when another wave of pain washed over me. Something was very wrong. I pulled my phone from my front pocket and hit the autodial.
“Bean There, Donut That, how can we help you today?”
“Natalie? I need your help.”
Chapter 5
Maddie
It snowed overnight but not enough to cancel school. Why couldn’t it be a blizzard like the weatherman promised? Monday was my first school day after… well, just after, and I would’ve rather been anywhere else—well, almost anywhere. The tension built in my neck as my classmates either gave me sympathetic smiles or whispered behind my back.
“You survived.” Brody leaned against the locker next to mine, perma-smirk etched across his handsome face, and I imagined slapping it off and leaving shock in its place.
With one last glance at the picture of Mom and Dad from my last ballet recital taped to the back, I slammed my locker door and spun the dial to engage the old-fashioned lock. “No thanks to you. As soon as I wasn’t fun anymore, you ditched me.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t do so well with the whole puking thing. Terrible gag-reflex.” He actually looked apologetic for two seconds before flashing one of his toothy grins. My knees betrayed me by going wobbly when he leaned down and whispered, “Next time less beer, more molly.”
Sounds good to me. I stepped back as the five-minute warning bell rang. “I have to get to class.”
“Before you go, I brought you an ‘I’m sorry’ gift.” He handed me a brown paper bag.
I stared at the crinkled bag then at him. “I have my own lunch.” He rolled his eyes, so I opened the sack and saw the plastic baggie full of neatly rolled joints, as if he’d taken pride in his work, looking for a gold star. “Shit!” I closed the bag. “If I get caught, I’ll get expelled for sure this time.”
“So don’t get caught.” He winked before walking away.
“Wait,” I called to him as the halls cleared. “Do you know where I can
find Grey?”
“Daniels?” I almost wished he’d get mad. Or jealous. But he laughed. “You already ruined his shoes. What do you want with him now?”
I stood straight and poked my chin out. “I just need to tell him something.”
“Huh… try the east lot near the art wing.” Brody ducked around a corner.
I shoved the bag into my backpack and went to first hour. By third hour, I was sick of hearing how sorry everyone was for me, and I counted the minutes until I could smoke myself into a beautiful daze. I decided to skip fourth hour and headed toward the art wing to find Grey, killing two birds with one stone, since the east lot was the smoker’s hangout. But I wasn’t keen on standing out in the snow.
“Madison?”
I pivoted to see the sharp lines and cold stare of the principal headed my way. “Uh, yes, Mrs. Walker?”
“How is your day going?” She reached a hand out as if she was about to pat my head like a lost dog but dropped it to her side before touching me.
It was about to be just fine. “All right, I guess. Everyone’s been nice.” But I wish they’d leave me alone and that I wasn’t the pathetic girl whose parents just died.
“Good, I’m glad.” She flashed a fake, ‘I’m just being polite’ kind of smile, her red lips reminding me of the Joker—the Heath Ledger one. Why so serious, Maddie? “I was wondering if you knew how to get a hold of your stepmother. I’ve tried the home phone and her cell, but she hasn’t returned my calls. Does she have a work number?”
“You could try my Dad—” The breath in my lungs whooshed out. Did I really just say that? It’s only been five days. What the fuck am I even doing here? “I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker. I don’t know how else to contact her. She works from the house, but if you left her a message, I’m sure she’ll call you back.” I swallowed back my blueberry Pop-Tart. “Is there a problem?” Had someone seen Brody give me the weed?
Ashes of Life Page 4