Page 161 of Curveball

She cries, “She did.”

“I didn’t realize her age. I always assumed her to be in her mid-seventies. She was nearly ninety. She was in amazing shape for her age.”

Ripley nods as she continues to sob.

We cry in each other’s arms for several minutes until she pulls away and whimpers, “What did her son say? What did he want with you?”

I give her a small smile. “Blanche wanted us, as in both of us, to take Thor. She left a sweet note about our relationship and how we reminded her of her and her husband.”

She looks behind me, and I shake my head to answer her silent question. “He’s not here. He’s staying with a friend of theirs. I told her son I needed to check with you first. He’s a big dog, and I didn’t know how you’d feel about him with Kaya. Her safety comes first.”

She nods in understanding, her big blue eyes searching mine. I wipe her tears with my thumb. “If you didn’t know about Blanche, why were you crying before I got home?”

She reaches over and flicks open the iPad screen. My jaw clenches at what I see. It’s a photo of me with that hooker from last night.

I rub her face, and she briefly closes her eyes. “Shortcake, you don’t believe this do you? We’ve fought so hard for so many years. Do you honestly think I’dtrash it for some two-dollar hooker? I asked you to trust in us. To trust me.”

She shakes her head. “I saw it this morning right after you left. Even though it was clearly taken last night—I recognized the clothes—and you told me you were having drinks with the guys, I just knew in my heart there was some reasonable explanation. But then you didn’t come home tonight. I can’t lie and say that I didn’t start to let the doubts creep in a little bit.”

I zoom in on the bottom right corner of the photo. “Tell me what you see there.”

She looks closely and squints her eyes. “Is that Layton’s wedding band?” His left arm is in the photo.

I nod. “It is.”

“Where were you guys?”

I blow out a breath. “We were at the Four Seasons.”

It takes a second, but I see it in her face the moment it registers. “That’s where Pierre and Colette are staying.”

“It is. I’m sorry, but I had a bad feeling about them when they came here. I went to confront them.”

“Who’s this woman? It’s not Colette.”

“Some hooker who propositioned me. I immediately sent her away. You can ask Layton. He heard the whole thing.”

“I don’t need to. I believe you. I knew there had to be some reasonable explanation. I do trust you.”

“Good. I’ll never hurt you—again.”

“Deep inside, I knew that. What happened with Pierre and Colette?”

I swallow. “We went to Pierre’s room and I…massaged a bit of a confession from him.”

She sighs. “What did you do to him?”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Nothing topermanently harm him, but he admitted something to me. Your father left you money.”

“I know. They told me.”

“Not those pennies.”

“Pennies? It’s more than I’ll make in the next five years.”

“Trust me, it’s pennies. Colette was trying to get you to sign away your rights. Your father left you a fortune. He took care of you every bit as much as he took care of them.”

I give her the number and her chin drops. “Holy shit.”

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