by Ava Sinclair
She was so caught up in the details that it barely registered that William Ashworth was telling her about the renovations.
“The kitchen was just completed,” he said. “I’m sad to say it’s entirely modern. But the rest I’ve tried to restore as close to the original as possible.”
“It’s amazing.” Ellie looked up at the high ceilings. She didn’t have to ask if the fixture was original; she could tell it was. But then her eyes returned to the man who’d brought her here, and her mind returned to the question she had to ask.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
“Because I want to make you an offer, Ellie.” He paused. “A very unorthodox offer. You know my current field of research is on the impact paternal absenteeism has on the lives of adult women. The study I had asked you to participate in was entirely academic, and on paper. But it was just that—information gathering. It wouldn’t offer any solutions.
“Even though you never intended to, you’ve shown yourself to be just the type of woman I wanted to study. But I find myself… well… something about you makes me a bit sad. I’d like to help you, Ellie, not in a professional capacity but in a personal one. By doing so, I think I can eventually draw from the experience of helping you to help others.”
Ellie started to tell him she wasn’t interested. The words were on the tip of her tongue. But when she spoke, something entirely different came out.
“What do you want from me?”
For the first time, she could see he was as nervous as she was.
“There are twelve rooms on the two floors above us,” he said. “You can have any of them and live rent free. I have a ton of records in boxes in the basement—historical stuff just waiting to be archived—letters, old deeds, legal papers, and the like. I need someone to catalog it. I can pay you a good wage, far better than what that middle manager who fired you from the Magic Bean earns.”
She smiled at this, but then turned serious. “You want me to live here. With you?” Ellie could hear the disbelief in her own voice.
He was nodding. “Yes. But that is not all. You’ll live here as… my ward. I’ll act as your surrogate father. You never had one, Ellie, and from what I know from my research, that leaves a great chasm in a woman’s life—a chasm she often fills with other things. Or… doesn’t fill at all.”
Ellie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. For the first time she took a hard look at Professor William Ashworth. He was tall and incredibly handsome. She tried to guess his age. Forty, maybe? Forty-five? It was hard to tell.
“It sounds weird,” she said.
“Yes, I know. It does.”
His agreement surprised her. “So what’s in it for you?”
“The desire to fix something… beautiful,” he said before clearing his throat nervously. “The desire to see what’s behind the door standing in front of me. I think healing your past just might be the key, Ellie. And don’t think that I don’t understand how odd this seems to you. Don’t think I won’t understand if you turn around and walk away. But I pray you won’t. I hope you will at least consider what I’m offering before telling me no.” He paused. “Your father was an awful man. I’d like to make it up to you, and hopefully learn something in the process.”
Ellie looked down at her shoes. The fabric of her worn black Converse sneakers looked dingy against the polished wood floor.
“Will you want me to do anything… unusual?” she asked. Her heart was pounding as she asked the question, because deep inside, she was almost hoping the answer would be yes.
“Not unless following rules is an unusual concept,” he laughed. “You will be subject to the rules of this household, and to any consequences.”
Consequences. She whispered the word to herself. It felt heavy on her tongue.
“I need to think about it,” she said, nearly choking on the words. What is there to think about? Her heart cried the argument, but then she saw her mother’s face in her mind. She was being given a chance to finally leave. But could she?
“Of course.” Dr. Ashworth was pulling out his wallet. “I’m giving you cab fare home, and there’s no need to argue because I insist. And here.” He scribbled his number on the back of a business card. “Call me and let me know what you decide. Please.”
Ellie took both the card and the money with a nod. It was bitter cold and she didn’t have cab fare anyway. She thanked him, feeling almost reluctant to depart. She wanted so much to see the other rooms.
“I have the original keys,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “If you accept my offer, you can choose whichever room you want.”
“Thank you.” Ellie allowed herself a smile, and then turned and headed out the door. Her head was swimming as she climbed into the cab. Looking back, she could see Dr. Ashworth standing on the stoop of his historic home, watching her being borne away.
What the hell just happened? She’d been calm the entire time, but now her heart was pounding.
“If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is,” her mother was fond of saying.
But Ellie shoved her mother’s warning out of her mind. She’d been offered a paying job—doing research like a real adult—for a professor! And not just any professor, but a handsome one who wanted to assume a role missing from her life. He’d been very direct about that.
There will be rules, he’d told her. And consequences. Ellie shifted on her seat.
A home. A salary. A father figure. And… You will be subject to the rules of this household, and to any consequences. The throb she’d eased with her fingers days earlier started to return.
Stop it, she said to herself. The consequences were probably something ordinary, like a dock in pay. But did it matter? Ellie realized that just the idea of the man looking after her, of monitoring her, had elicited a long dormant physical response.
“Here you are…” the driver called to her as he eased the cab to the curb in front of her house, pulling Ellie from her thoughts. She paid him and stepped out onto the sidewalk, thanking him as she shut the door. As the cab sped away she heard her name being called and looked up to see Betty Spooner coming toward her.
“Hey, Ellie! How’s it going?” Betty spoke through her scarf, her blue eyes just visible above its edge.
“Fine,” Ellie replied. “And you?”
“Same. Just running errands for mom. She wants to make pasta for dinner and only the sauce from Huffman’s will do. Mothers get set in their ways. You know how it is.”
“Yeah,” Ellie said. “They do.”
“Hey…” Betty reached out and nudged her. “Are you watching American Talent Quest? Mom and I just love that one singer, what’s her name… Janelle? Or is it Janine. Anyway, we really hope she’s going to win. I swear, that show gives me something to look forward to.”
“Um, yeah,” Ellie said. “Well, I hope she wins. Talk to you later, Betty.”
“Yeah, see ya around!”
“Was that Betty Spooner out there?” Her mom was opening the door as Ellie checked in the mailbox for letters. It was empty.
“Yeah, mom. She was on the way home from the market.” Ellie pushed past her mom into the house. “No mail?”
“Well, yes, actually.”
“Anything for me?”
Mildred Brewer turned slowly to the table by the door. “Yes, Ellie. Costello’s sent your last paycheck.” She picked up an envelope and held it out to her daughter. “Why didn’t you tell me you quit your job?” She crossed her arms in a manner she only did when she was angry. But Ellie’s anger quickly transcended that of her mother’s.
“You opened it?”
“I thought it was…”
Ellie put up her hands. “Don’t even start with the ‘I thought it was mine’ bit, okay, mom? I’m sick of that lie.”
“Ellie.” Her mother adopted the measured tone of someone trying to reason with a child. “I need to know what’s going on in your life.”
“No.” Ellie stuffed the e
nvelope into the purse she was still holding. “No, mom. If you want to know what’s going on, you ask. But you don’t. You just invade my privacy. And I’m sick of it.”
“Don’t get dramatic, Ellie. And don’t change the subject! It’s not reasonable to just quit your job!” She looked up at the clock. “What time is it? I think we should call Dr. Gruber, see what he has to say about this.”
“No,” Ellie said firmly. “First of all, there is no ‘we.’ Dr. Gruber is my doctor, not yours. And neither one of us has to tell you a damn thing. Second of all, if you’d bothered to ask, you’d know that I’ve found another job.” Ellie’s next sentence surprised Ellie as much as they surprised her mother. “And I’m moving out.”
“What?”
She’d not meant to say it, and not really even taken time to think it through. But in that moment, Ellie realized that if she didn’t get away when she had been given a chance, she’d end up just like Betty Spooner, watching life pass her by with nothing to look forward to but some weekly reality show.
“Another job? Doing what?” her mother asked skeptically.
“Research,” Ellie said.
“Research…” Mildred Brewer looked suspicious. “Who on earth would hire you to do research?”
“Maybe someone who sees me as something other than a fragile incompetent, mom.” Ellie shook her head. “I’m going upstairs to pack.”
“Ellie… Ellie, wait. We need to talk!”
But Ellie had mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time up to her room. She slammed the door and locked it, flicking on the stereo as she passed it. Beneath the beat of Nine Inch Nails’ Hurt, she could hear the pounding of her mother banging on the door. But she ignored it, pulling out her suitcase from under the bed.
It occurred to Ellie as she filled it with the things she couldn’t live without how little she actually had. She’d take her laptop, of course, several changes of clothes, her favorite books, the worn teddy bear she’d grown up with, some favorite photos. She leaned down and pulled out the dresser drawer, withdrawing the packet she’d gotten from Hilliard. She briefly entertained showing it to her mother, explaining why she’d done what she’d done That Day. But she knew it would only hurt Mildred Brewer worse.
It was nearly an hour later when Ellie finally emerged from her room. She went downstairs, where she found her mother sitting by herself in the living room, staring at their only family photo album. She walked over and sat down with a sigh.
“Remember this one?” Mildred asked, pointing to a picture of the two of them sitting by a lake. A stranger had taken the shot after Mildred had asked him to. “I’m sorry,” she’d said. “My husband isn’t here to take the picture…”
“Yeah,” Ellie said. “That was a fun day.”
“Oh, Ellie…” Mildred looked at her. “You don’t have to go. I won’t open your mail anymore.”
Ellie hugged her mother. “No, mom,” she said, tears slipping from her eyes. “I have to. I have to prove to you that I’m stronger. I have to prove it to myself. But I can’t as long as you make me doubt myself day after day after day.”
Mildred sniffed. “Where are you going to live?”
Oh, just with a man I barely know who wants to see if becoming my surrogate father will make my life better.
Ellie realized the truth sounded as crazy as her mother thought she was, so she offered a purposefully vague response. “I’m renting a room. It’s safe. I promise.”
“You know I can’t get out to see you. Not with my COPD in this cold.”
“I know, mom,” Ellie said softly. “But I’ll come see you. And I’ll still help with the bills.”
“Oh, Ellie.” Mildred hugged her daughter to her, and in that moment, Ellie realized that her mother was as likely as relieved as she was to see an end to the compulsive caretaking. “You’ll keep getting therapy, won’t you?”
“Sure, mom. I promise.”
Mildred sighed. “I know it’s probably for the best. I just… I just want you to be happy.”
I know. And I want to be. Ellie pressed her lips to her mother’s hair and then got up from the couch. Back in her room, she retrieved the card from her purse and sat down on the window seat. Her hands were shaking slightly as she dialed Dr. Ashworth’s number. She half-expected him not to answer, but he did.
“Dr. Ashworth? Hi. It’s me. Ellie. Ellie Brewer.”
“Hello, Ellie. Did you make it home without incident?”
She smiled at his formality. “Yes,” she said. “And I… is it too early to give you an answer to the offer? I mean, if it’s still good.”
“Of course it’s still good,” he said. “I’m not a man to promise something and pull it away. You’ll never have to worry about that with me.”
Ellie felt a flush of… of what she didn’t know.
“Well, then… I’d like to accept. Please.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Ellie,” he said. “I really am. I’ll send a cab for you tomorrow afternoon at four. Will that work?”
“Yes,” she said. “If it will work for you.”
“It will be perfect for me,” he said. “I’ll meet you at my place after I get off work. And Ellie?”
“Yes?”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
Me too. I can’t think of much else. But Ellie didn’t say that. Instead, she just said “thank you,” and hung up the phone, counting down the hours until her new life began.
Chapter Six
“I should warn you that you have a visitor waiting in your office.”
William didn’t have to ask who it was. The look of warning in his receptionist’s eyes told him all he needed to know.
“Thanks, Mrs. Everett,” he said.
“Sure you don’t want me to ring back there and tell her you’ve been delayed? She doesn’t know you’re here. You could duck out.”
William looked down the hallway. The office door was ajar and he could just see Kathleen’s long crossed legs, her one foot bobbing impatiently. Any other day and he may have taken his receptionist’s offer. But he felt different today: stronger, focused, hopeful. There was something in his life to finally look forward to, and he wasn’t about to let his ex ruin it for him.
“No, Mrs. Everett,” he said. “This won’t take long.”
Kathleen was looking at her watch when he walked in.
“I thought office hours started at nine, professor,” she said.
William didn’t answer right away. The office was fragrant with the Dior perfume he’d gotten her for Christmas. It was the scent she always wore when they had sex. He sat down at his desk.
“What do you need, Kathleen?”
“So formal,” she said with a pout. “I just came by to see how you’re doing. Still conducting your study on little girls who didn’t get enough love from daddy?”
“If you must know, I’ve decided not to do the study after all.”
“Really?” She smiled. “So no after-hours research? Good. Those types are usually so needy and pathetic. Besides, this will make it all the more convenient, William. Because I have two tickets to the winter concert series and…”
William leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers over his brow in a gesture of weariness. When he looked back at her, it was with an exasperated sigh. “Kathleen, what are you doing?”
She widened her eyes, obviously trying to look innocent. It wasn’t at all convincing.
“Giving you a second chance,” she said smoothly. Kathleen leaned forward then, affording William a view of cleavage visible above the low neckline of her designer blouse. “I know it’s been stressful; you had all those midterms to grade, were fussing with renovations to that awful house. It’s no wonder you took it out on me. Looking back, I think it was probably just a cry for attention on your part, just your way of begging me to give you more affection. And I’m going to do that now, sweetheart. There’s this little inn up the coast. I’ve booked two nights after the first conce
rt next week and…”
“Kathleen, stop.” William held up his hands and then lowered them slowly. When he resumed speaking, it was in a firm tone. “I did not break up with you as a cry for attention. I wasn’t sending you some cryptic message. I broke up with you because I don’t love you, no longer find you attractive, and don’t want to see you again. I’m not going to the concert with you. I’m not going anywhere with you ever again. What I am going to do is give you some professional advice. Take those two tickets and find someone who enjoys your company to attend the concert with you.”
William could see that she was trying to remain composed. Her face was placid, but her eyes were stormy with the rage he often saw brewing there when she didn’t get her way.
“So it’s someone else, then,” she asked tightly, a pained, angry smile flickering briefly across her face. She fell silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was hard. “Who?”
“Yes, it is someone else,” he said, standing. “It’s me. I’ve decided I prefer my own company to yours. I know that may be a lot for your giant ego to process, Kathleen, but there it is.” He walked to the door and held it open. “I’m not going to be manipulated this time,” he said gently. “I’m sorry if you’re hurting, but it’s not worth hurting myself to make it better. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
She stood up and walked to the door. When she was level with William, she spoke without looking at him.
“You’re making a huge mistake, William. Bigger than you know.”
“Out,” he said. Her veiled threat had him wanting to say more, but he knew the less said with Dr. Kathleen Kidd, the better.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Kidd.” Mrs. Everett’s tone was deceptively friendly as she called after the woman stomping out. The next thing William heard was the slamming of the door and the crash of a picture falling to the floor.