Page 49 of Please Send Snow
I’ve been so busy wallowing in my own scandal that I didn’t even hear that Ellis Foster died. I wonder what else I’ve missed.
“He had a wonderful life,” she says, shrugging. “I know he doesn’t regret a moment of it. And he’s with my mom now. I know how much he missed her.”
The pain in her eyes makes me want to pull her into my arms.
“Coffee, sir?” one of the kitchen workers asks softly. She’s about an inch from my ear and I almost elbow her in the solar plexus out of sheer instinct.
“Yes, please,” I say, frowning at my own foolishness.
I can see Maddie smiling out of the corner of my eye and I glance over to see that she’s clearly trying not to laugh.
And you know what? If a little jump scare is what it takes for her to smile again, I don’t mind so much.
You’re thinking about her like that again,a little voice in the back of my head tries to remind me.Slow your roll.
She pours coffee for Maddie too, just a half cup, and the older couple passes a pitcher of milk across the table.
Maddie fills the rest of her cup with milk—enough to practically turn her coffee white.
“A little coffee with your milk?” I tease her.
“Nope,” she replies, scooping a heaping spoonful of sugar from the chipped bowl and dumping it into her milky excuse for a coffee. “A little coffee and milk with my sugar.”
I watch her stir it around before taking a sip of my own. It’s black and bitter and hot as lava, just how I like it.
Everyone else seems to be absorbed in their conversations, including Dylan and his new friend. This is probably as good a time as any to clear the air, if it needs clearing.
“Is everything okay?” I hear myself ask.
“What do you mean?” she asks me.
“Well, last night you left without saying goodbye,” I hedge.
“Oh,” she says, then closes her mouth again.
“I’m sorry if I said anything, or made you feel…”
I’m not really sure how to finish.
“It’s the money,” she whispers. “The money you gave me.”
I blink at her for a moment in total shock. I thought I’d been more than generous, and I was also getting theimpression that Maddie wasn’t as hung up on money as I first expected her to be.
“It’s not enough?” I ask her, wondering exactly how much she’s used to carrying around.
“It’s too much,” she says, looking at me like I’m bananas. “It’swaytoo much. It’s… indecent.”
Indecent?
Suddenly the puzzle pieces of last night rearrange themselves and I’m looking at everything from her point of view.
I picture myself drooling over her in front of the fire pit like an animal, and then pressing all that cash into her hand. I can’t blame her for worrying that I was trying to pay for something that isn’t for sale.
No wonder she ran.
I’m disgusted with myself.
“Maddie, I’m so sorry,” I tell her. I’m not a man who apologizes, but those words just fall out of my mouth at the idea that I’ve hurt this woman. “My intention was only to be generous with you because you’re being so generous with us—with your time, and with your energy. There isnothinggoing on with us. Nothing at all.”
