Page 66 of Below Deck Billionaire
‘Better than the combination to the safe.’
Tiffany hooted out a laugh at the running family joke about her father’s secrecy around the safe, and he joined her, which was how their mother found them moments later. ‘Mikey, someone called Rusty is asking for you,’ she said.
‘Ooh.’ Mikey grinned. ‘I think I’ve possibly found the only gay man in a thousand kilometres radius.’
‘Eww,’ Tiffany teased. ‘Cracking on at a funeral. Classy.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers out here.’
He left with a swagger in his step and Tiffany shook her head as the door shut behind him. Even though she and Mikey FaceTimed often and texted all the time, she’d missed him terribly.
Her mother took Mikey’s chair and Tiffany braced herself for whatever conversation was to follow. She’d seen her mum almost every day since she’d been home, but their interactions had been stilted and inane.
‘It was a big turn out,’ Tiffany said, not comfortable enough in her mother’s company to let silence build.
‘Yes.’
She’d expected her mother to have some kind of dig about how many of the female mourners her ex-husband had bonked – sarcastic verbal asides had been her go-to since their divorce – but she didn’t, and Tiffany wondered if maybe her mother was also facing a bit of a reckoning.
They chatted about frivolous topics until her mother decided to get real. ‘What are your plans now the funeral is over?’
‘I… don’t know.’ Tiffany had put her writing plans aside for the past month and she wanted to get back to it, but she felt a little in limbo at the moment.
It made sense to stay here and complete the book, but the red dirt and gum trees were so at odds to the world of blues that made up the Aegean where her mermaids had taken true form and shape, she didn’t know if she’d even be able to write here.
‘Why don’t you stay? I saw you out on Maximillian the other day. You looked like you’ve never been away.’
Tiffany smiled. Riding her old horse had felt very natural despite not having ridden in almost ten years. And she’d loved the smell of the dust as it was kicked up and the heavy aroma of eucalyptus in the air.
‘You’ve missed it, I can tell.’
‘I have,’ Tiffany admitted. But it felt more like nostalgia than real actual yearning.
‘I’d like it if you stayed.’
Her mother shifted in her chair, her bleached-blonde bob razor-sharp as she plucked imaginary lint off her chic black-and-white checked skirt before meeting Tiffany’s eye.
‘I’d like the chance to apologise and make up to you for how I blamed you all those years ago. I was so angry at your father and the fact you knew what a fool he’d made of me made me feel so stupid. It was easier to take it out on you than face the fact that the man I loved had been serially unfaithful to me. But’ – she reached across and patted Tiffany’s arm – ‘it wasn’t your fault. And you were a child and it was just… unforgiveable of me.’
It wasn’t your fault.
Well… how about that.Twoapologies in one day. Obviously, Marshall Wainwright’s death had made her mother examine her role in the breakdown of their marriage. Maybe even made her realise life was short and death was very, very final.
‘Yeah, it was,’ Tiffany agreed. ‘Just not sure why it’s taken you so long.’ Her father’s death might have made Tiffany more open to forgiveness, but it also made her more open to ask the hard questions she’d been avoiding all these years.
Her mother shifted uncomfortably. ‘You’ve been gone for ten years, sweetheart.’
‘You could have picked up the phone.’You could have said sorry the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that.
Swallowing hard, her mother blinked back tears. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry for that, too.’
Tiffany nodded slowly, her old anger not as important right now as her mother’s obvious remorse. And perhaps they could work on mending those bridges.
If she stayed.
‘Beverly? There you are.’ A woman Tiffany didn’t recognise popped her head out the door that led from the internal hallway onto the porch. ‘Marjorie’s leaving and was looking for you.’
‘I’m coming,’ she said, straightening her skirt. The other woman departed and her mother stood. ‘Will you think about it?’ she asked.
