Page 153 of One Wealthy Wedding

“You blame yourself. Just like Theo does.”

“A better person would have left that family years ago. I liked the luxury. I was comfortable.”

“Breaking ties is difficult,” she says gently. “Starting over can be impossible. You should tell him.”

“Sure,” I say. I start drying mugs. “I’ll tell him.” Even I don’t believe myself.

Two hours later, I’m on a ladder, trying to take the drapes down in the Miami Vice living room, as Brenda calls it. We found a ladder in a storage room off the gym, along with hooks and hammers and nails.

Brenda insists we need to wash the curtains before we do the windows.

“I can’t reach this stupid hook.” My fingers scrabble on the finial. “We need a taller ladder.”

“I’m taller than you. Let me do it.”

“You are not getting on this stupid ladder,” I grunt. “You’re not supposed to be cleaning at all. You’re a guest.” Which is why, under Brenda’s direction, I’ve swept the floor and taken off the cushion covers and vacuumed the baseboards. And this is just one room. My arms twinge, as if in anticipation of the ache to come.

“Catherine. You’re not going to reach it. I’m five-ten. You’re five-four.”

I sigh. “Fine. I see where your sons get their height from, I guess.”

She climbs the ladder, and I hold it at the base. I’m sweaty and dusty, and there’s lint stuck in my mouth. Blech.

The ladder wobbles, and I tighten my hold. “Careful,” I tell Brenda as she reaches for the finial. “Don’t fall, or we’re never going to finish all the rooms.”

“Don’t sound so sour, Cat. Cleaning can be good for the soul.”

“And here I was thinking you’d never want to do it again.”

She laughs. “Well, you’d think, but then I saw the state of my son’s house.” She manages to lift the brass rod from the hook.

“Shit, this is heavy.” She takes the full weight of the curtain and lurches forward.

“Drop it,” I say.

She drops it and falls back. The curtain crashes to the floor, but it’s too late. She stumbles, and I watch in slow motion as she falls off the ladder while I’m standing there dumbly.

“Ohmygod.” I’m at her side in an instant, pulling her up. She winces and bats at my hands. “Cat, I’m fine.” She stands and winces again. “Okay, my knee does hurt a little.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, panic making my voice high. “I’m so sorry. I should have done the curtains, not you.”

“What’s going on here?” Theo’s voice comes from the doorway, and my head whips around.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “Your mom is fine.”

He rushes forward and half carries her to the couch.

“It’s just my knee,” she says. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”

“You’re lucky it was just a knee. You could have been seriously hurt,” I say.

Theo grunts. “Let me get you some ice. And then I’m calling a doctor.”

I check her knee, and Brenda bats at my hand. “Stop fussing,” she says.

Theo returns with ice, his face unreadable. He manipulates Brenda’s knee with a frown before he stands and says, “We need to talk. In my study.”

I follow him down the hall to where the door of his study is open. It’s beautiful. Full of plants and old books. There’s a huge wooden desk and a shiny laptop. Some papers neatly stacked.

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