by Gun Brooke
“This might turn out to be somewhat of a challenge.” Sylvie knew she wasn’t helping her own agenda by sounding so perplexed and critical, but honestly, to understand the intricacies of the stock market and the machinations of it without a degree similar to her own was impossible. What had Maeve been thinking? “You’re an English major, right?”
“I am. I double-majored in English and history.” Her eyes darkening to an olive green, Aeron sat straight in her chair. The only thing betraying her anger was how her knuckles whitened more by the second as she held on to the documents. “I can assure you, I can be taught.” She clearly dismissed Sylvie and turned to Lucas Hayes again. “Does Maeve stipulate anything else? My time is as valuable as yours.”
Sylvie was reluctantly impressed that the young woman managed to keep her cool more than she, business major and then some, did.
“No. If you read farther down, your mother wants you to know enough to make an informed decision of how involved you want to be—or not.”
This sounded like a smart move, something most wouldn’t expect of Maeve. Sylvie hadn’t witnessed the frivolous side of her business partner, only read about it in the gossip columns. According to those sources, Maeve had gone through some of the clichéd situations common to young celebrities. Drunk in public, booked once for driving under the influence, and involved in the destruction of a hotel room, which wasn’t her fault, but she was there. Maeve had probably been the very first to have a so-called crotch-shot taken by the ever-present paparazzi. In between that, she’d hosted charities, which she claimed was just another reason to throw parties, but they had also brought in a lot of money for worthy causes.
“Listen,” Sylvie said, determined to reel Aeron in before she decided this proposal simply wasn’t worth it. “I’m sure you don’t want to lose your cushy trust fund. All we have to do is work together. I fully believe we can accomplish these goals.” Sylvie regarded Aeron cautiously. “As you say, you’re a double major, which suggests a keen mind. I’m nothing if not clear and precise. You will also get to know my assistant, who keeps all the information on hand.”
“Why the hell do you want this so much? I mean, apart from Maeve being your silent partner and you being friends or whatever.” Aeron leaned forward on her elbows. The ceiling light glimmered in her wire-frame glasses and ignited the highlights in her hair.
Sylvie considered how much she wanted to reveal. “With your mother on board and according to the power of attorney she signed for me to have complete autonomy, I had the majority of the unquoted shares and ran Classic Swedish Inc. as I saw fit. Now with her unquoted shares in your hands, our agreement when it comes to the power of attorney is nullified. You’re free to exercise the power of having those shares and even vote against me together with the other person who owns the rest of the shares. The two of you would have a majority. I knew I risked having Maeve and the other person outvote me, but as Maeve signed a power of attorney immediately, I felt safe. I planned to buy her out within another couple of years.”
“It sounds like you really need my cooperation. So, she wants me to learn about the DeForest holdings. I wonder if she wanted the business world to entice me enough to perhaps change lanes.” Aeron raised a very deliberate eyebrow. “I don’t see that happening.”
“Perhaps not, but as I see it, Maeve wanted you to be able to make an informed decision.” Sylvie held up both her hands, palms forward.
“That may be. Anyway. So you have to show me the ropes to earn my votes, so to speak.”
“That’s about it,” Lucas Hayes said, smiling tightly now. “What your mother had in mind—”
“Only Maeve knows what went on in that jumbled brain of hers.” Aeron huffed as she knew firsthand how untrustworthy Maeve’s spur-of-the-moment decisions could be. “This is yet another of her multitude of ways to bring me back into the fold. During the last five years it was her favorite pastime.”
“Hey, no matter what, she was still your mother,” Sylvie said without realizing what words were going to pass her lips.
“Yes, we share a gene pool. She gave birth to me, not that she ever wanted to, I’m sure. The moments she acted like a mother were so few and far between, they’re irrelevant.” Flustered, Aeron pressed her palms against the table as if attempting to get up. “And now you tell me I need to respect her memory? That’s rich, considering how conveniently she forgot my existence whenever it suited her.”
“I’m sorry.” Sylvie couldn’t bear to see the pain contorting Aeron’s finely drawn features. Her green eyes held such shadows, yet she radiated a defiance that demanded respect.
“Don’t be sorry. Let’s do this. Screw Maeve’s terms. I have questions and you might just sit on the answers. If you want to keep the power over your precious spa chain, you’ll answer me as much as you can. We can do this while we fulfill Maeve’s terms. I’ll vote with you when need be, as long as we’re sticking to the agreement.” Wiping away a solitary tear at the outer corner of her right eye, her movements angry and rigid, Aeron projected an attitude that challenged Sylvie to respond.
“All right,” she said, sounding a lot surer than she felt. She didn’t know this woman. She could be entirely impossible to deal with. What if she didn’t like the answers to whatever questions she had in mind? Would she suddenly decide to vote against Sylvie when it came to Classic Swedish Inc.?
“We need to draw up an agreement for this exchange so I’ll know you’ll stick to your promise. There’s a lot at stake for me as well.” Sylvie groaned inwardly at the truth in her last statement. Everything would come to fruition this year, and she would venture out on her own, independent of her father and the entire Thorn dynasty. She couldn’t fail.
“Very well.” Lucas Hayes spoke fast, like he was anxious to wrap up this discussion and continue with the intricacies of the will. He rubbed his temple with his thumb and straightened his legal pad. “I’ve written down your respective terms, and if you can fulfill Maeve’s wishes in the process, I don’t see any problems. There is a time limit, though.”
“A time limit?” Sylvie looked from Lucas Hayes to Aeron.
“Yes. You have to show results within six months.” Lucas Hayes smiled encouragingly.
Aeron snorted. “And then what? A corporate pop quiz?”
“Of sorts. Maeve suggested a written essay of your experience learning about the world of business. She thought it fitting.”
“And who judges this essay?” Her eyes now narrow slits, Aeron scrutinized Lucas Hayes.
“Maeve gave me two names to contact. Let’s see.” He glanced down at another document, but Sylvie guessed he knew the names perfectly well yet needed to stall to get a few seconds’ reprieve when it came to the laser focus of Aeron’s eyes. “Helena Forsythe and Eleanor Ashcroft.”
“Wonderful.” Aeron groaned. “All right. Fine.”
Sylvie felt bad for Aeron. Obviously, jumping through hoops designed by her mother didn’t sit well. In fact, Sylvie knew she’d feel manipulated and even humiliated, as she had many times when her father pulled the strings. But if she showed any sympathy for Aeron regarding the conditions of the will, she most likely wouldn’t appreciate it. After running the US branch of Thorn Industries, she’d learned to read people. The way Aeron’s delicate skin tensed in fine lines around her eyes and how she kept adjusting her glasses with unsteady fingers showed how much pressure she was under.
“And you, Ms. Thorn…I apologize. Sylvie. Do you have any stipulations other than having your original agreement with Maeve honored?” Lucas Hayes lifted his glance from his legal pad.
Sylvie was about to say no, she was content, when she reeled herself in. This was her one chance to register any demands and use Aeron’s presence to her advantage. “Yes,” she answered firmly. “I’m flying home to Sweden for some meetings, and this would be a golden moment for Aeron to see some big sharks in action.” She didn’t add that the biggest of them all was Daniel Thorn. Her father made sure he ran the show n
o matter who else was present.
“Go to Sweden?” Aeron momentarily lost her look of cool aloofness. Instead she appeared genuinely taken aback.
“Yes. It’s a month from now.”
“Oh, God. I’ll never be ready to meet my deadline.” Muttering, Aeron adjusted her glasses once more. “But sure. Why not? I haven’t been to Europe since the cruise Lucas mentioned. I suppose I can manage.”
“What deadline?” Sylvie had no idea what Aeron was talking about, and Lucas Hayes seemed just as nonplussed. It hadn’t dawned on Sylvie that Aeron might have a job.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Aeron shook her head at Sylvie. “Regardless of my cushy trust fund, I do work. But I don’t suppose you or anyone else would believe that. Well, go figure.”
“I’m sorry for being presumptuous.” Sylvie was angry at herself for losing her edge and jumping to conclusions, no matter how logical they’d seemed earlier. In fact, this was like looking into a mirror of sorts. Sylvie had also set out to make something of herself, albeit for different reasons, but still…Maeve had been eccentric and irresponsible, but not deliberately cruel and disdainful like Sylvie’s father could be. “May I ask what you do for a living that entails a deadline?” She could feel her own quotation marks around the word hanging between them.
“I have a deadline with my publisher.” Aeron spoke in a meticulous, mock-pedagogical tone as if she spoke to a preschooler.
“Publisher?” Of all things Aeron could have said, this was the most unexpected.
“I’m a horror novelist,” Aeron said casually, as if this were something entirely ordinary.
“Excuse me?” Sylvie tried to grasp the concept.
“I write horror stories.”
Oh, God. How the hell would this give-and-take agreement work out? Sylvie considered herself well-read and accomplished in many topics, but this genre was so outside her comfort zone, it was ridiculous. She pulled herself together. “I’m impressed. It’s normally quite hard to surprise me.”
The tiniest of smiles played at the corners of Aeron’s full pink lips. “Always something.”
Sylvie had always presumed that horror novelists were young men, or even older ones, but hardly a young, privileged woman like Aeron. Then again, a privileged woman, Mary Shelley, had written Frankenstein a long time ago, so clearly her prejudice was talking. “Well, from what it seems, neither of us knows very much about each other. Why don’t we wrap it up for today? Or do you want to throw yourself into it?”
“Really? Wow. I thought I’d have to make an appointment to see the CEO of Thorn Industries US.” Aeron tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips.
“As a matter of fact, I canceled today’s meetings and appointments. If you want to get started, I’m game.”
The smirk vanished. “I’m planning to meet Paulina at Maeve’s condo. She insists I take some of my childhood things back home with me. If you want, you can tag along. Might be good to talk a bit outside of these offices.” Aeron winced and looked through her lashes at Lucas Hayes. “No offense.”
“None taken. I’ll have the paperwork ready for you to sign tomorrow. If you have any idea where you will be, I’ll swing by before I’m off to DC.” The lawyer looked fatigued and also relieved, for which Sylvie couldn’t blame him. Handling Maeve’s unorthodox will must feel like sitting on her childhood’s crazy pony that seemed hell-bent on sending her headlong into the hedge around the paddock.
“Sounds good.” Sylvie stood and so did Aeron. A gentle scent of lilacs and vanilla emanated from the woman she’d spend a lot of time with during the upcoming months. Sylvie’s lungs caved in and she found it near-impossible to inhale new oxygen. She hadn’t had this type of reaction to another woman in ages—and now, Maeve’s daughter? Not likely. She stole another glance at the woman dressed in a wide, flowing skirt and leather jacket. Sylvie would never consider wearing such a combination, but it suited Aeron perfectly. A mix between rural and urban. Surprisingly attractive.
“You ready? I thought I might just get it over with.” Aeron pulled her shoulders up and shuddered. “Paulina can be very persuasive.”
Sylvie nodded curtly. “I’m all set. You will contact us when you have the paperwork ready, Lucas?”
The lawyer quickly stood. Perhaps he’d feared bloodshed or something equally violent. Sylvie smiled inwardly.
“I’ll send digital copies for you to sign via your computers.” Lucas Hayes shook their hands and escorted them to the elevators. “Have a nice day, ladies.” He waited until the door opened and then strode off.
“Was it just me, or did he almost run to get away from us?” Aeron pressed her fingertips to her lips, but she couldn’t hide the smile.
“I think you’re right.” Sylvie relaxed. “Guess that’s why we get the paperwork as digi-documents.”
Aeron nodded and stood silent as they rode the elevator to the first floor. As they stepped out on the sidewalk, she turned to Sylvie after putting on her sunglasses. “You can change your mind if you want to.”
“What?” Sylvie flinched.
“Hang on. Don’t freak out. I meant about going to the condo. If you’d rather not.” Aeron kicked the toe of her shoe into the ground behind her. Was she that nervous?
“I don’t mind joining you. That way, you can start with your questions right away, and perhaps being around Maeve’s things will make you come up with new ones. You never know what you’ll find.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Aeron hailed a cab, and as they climbed into the backseat, Aeron’s enticing scent once again overwhelmed Sylvie’s senses. God help me.
Chapter Seven
The condo was eerily quiet. Aeron stepped inside, almost on her toes, and half expected her mother to greet her with a “Now look what the cat finally dragged in.” She would move with her typical saunter: feline and seductive no matter whom she was talking to. Instead, the silence filled every part of Aeron and once again confirmed that her larger-than-life mother was truly gone. It was hard to breathe, and her steps echoed against the hardwood floor in the hallway.
“This is bizarre,” Aeron muttered. “I knew it was a bad idea. A movement to the side made her jump. Paulina came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Aeron. And Ms. Thorn. What a nice surprise. Did everything go well at the lawyer’s office?”
“For the most part,” Aeron said, glancing at Sylvie. “Maeve’s conditions were rather specific, and as much as I want to wash my hands of it all, I…I just couldn’t.”
“I’m certain Maeve somewhere, somehow, is aware of this.”
“Who knows?” Aeron barely managed the brief response, and she didn’t want to go into detail. However, the interested and caring expression on Paulina’s face made it impossible to remain cold and distant. This approach had worked fine with Maeve, as she usually chatted about this and that and barely made sure she had Aeron’s attention. Usually she relayed some juicy gossip about celebrities or people Aeron had never heard of. Tuning out her mother’s bright, animated voice, Aeron would get lost in thought about some story she yearned to write.
Now she looked around at the condo that used to be her home. It seemed like an empty shell without Maeve at its center, keeping it alive. Maeve, who had liked white, gold, and marble. Some rooms had accent colors in light blue, pink, or pastel green. It was like a little girl’s cotton-candy dream home, and for a moment, Aeron wondered if the color choices indicated how Maeve never quite grew up. Only Aeron’s room had stood out. A navy-colored accent wall, light-gray wallpaper on the other three, and a bedspread with the pattern of a starry sky.
Maeve had surely turned her room into a guestroom, or even a gym. Glancing back at Sylvie, she shrugged uneasily. “This room used to be mine.” She turned the doorknob and half closed her eyes at what she might see.
“What do you mean, used to be?” Sylvie peered over Aeron’s shoulder. “Looks like a teen room to me.”
Snapping her eyes open, Aeron stared at
her room. It really was hers. As far as her darting gaze could tell, Maeve had kept it just as it was all these years.
“Your mother had this dream you’d come home one day and be surprised,” Paulina said from behind.
“Maeve was right. I am…surprised.” Shocked even, she stepped inside and studied her room, so much as she remembered it but also different. Realizing the room hadn’t changed, but she had, Aeron slumped down on the foot of the bed. The books in her built-in shelves were still filled with all her favorite novels from early childhood to late teens. She needed to ship those. She hadn’t thought they were still here, but since they were, she couldn’t imagine getting rid of them.
“No wonder you majored in English,” Sylvie said. “May I look?”
“Sure,” Aeron said, absentminded. She continued to her desk by the window. Maeve had suggested a girly looking one, white with glass knobs and gold ornamental décor. Instead, Aeron had managed, together with Paulina, to persuade Maeve to buy her a large, practical desk. Maeve had insisted she hire someone to paint it white, something Aeron had agreed with as long as there was no gold or glass.
Instead, when it came to glass, her collection of orbs sat in a glass cabinet on the left wall. Eighteen of them, carefully selected at markets and thrift stores, reflected the light from the window.
“She had me dust them twice a week even if they sit in a cabinet.” Paulina smiled reverently and stroked Aeron’s arm.
“Really? Well, you must’ve kept everything clean and tidy over the years because it looks like I’m still living here, which is surreal as hell.” Trembling inside, Aeron didn’t know where to look to calm herself. She’d spent so much time here, mostly alone, as she hadn’t wanted to subject what few friends she had to Maeve’s eccentricities. If one of her friends had mentioned one word at home about her mother, she wouldn’t have been allowed to spend time with Aeron anymore.
“Pippi Longstocking!” Sylvie’s unusually excited voice was a welcome reprieve.
“Yes. I have all of them.” Aeron walked over to the bookshelves, where Sylvie stood caressing the spine of the first Pippi Longstocking book. “I used to dream I was Annika. Not Pippi. That was reaching for the stars, but her best friend suited me well. Then I’d have a brother, Tommy, and I wouldn’t—” She almost said “be so alone” but stopped herself in time.