Page 81 of Dead Love
“You’re ready,” she said quietly. “I hired a new girl. Same age as you.” She turned back to the mirror, grabbing a palette of eye shadows. “I’ve been putting off her start date though. We’ll open back up tomorrow. And we can browse that catalog again, see if there are any more potted plants you want.”
“For the house?” I shook my head; we didn’t have a house anymore. “The hotel? The shop?”
“For wherever you want.”
I blinked at her. How in the world had she been so distraught yesterday and the day before, but today, it was like I had never left? Like she suddenly trusted me? Why was she giving me the ability to go out by myselfnow?
“Sweetheart?” she asked.
I forced a smile on my face. “Yes,” I said, “that sounds—”
“Perfect!” she finished for me. And there was no other word to describe it. Things were practically perfect. If you had put us into our old home, our lives would have been better than ever at that moment. My mother was letting me go out.
On my own.
It seemed too good to be true.
“Well, go on,” she said, pride bubbling up inside her as she shooed me away. “Get ready for the station.”
Anticipation bubbled inside of me, making my fingers flutter. I imagine that this is what it would have been like if she had taken me to school on my first day of kindergarten, but I had never had that experience. Still, I took a shower; the lighting was brighter than it had been in Vincent’s basement, but when I opened the body gel provided by the hotel, I flinched. It reeked of fruit punch. It was such a simple choice—the type of soap to use—and yet, I stopped.
I reached out of the stall, grabbing the bar of soap from the counter, the same one Vincent had left for me to use in the basement. It was plain, forcing my body to smell like it naturally did, but the lather was clean, and I tried not to think about why I had chosen a plain bar of soap over the perfumed body gel.
I stepped out of the shower and my mother smiled. Several outfits were laid on the bed, though all of them seemed younger.Different.And there were no doubles—none of the outfits were the dress Shea was wearing herself.
“I had some time to go shopping,” she said. She must have spent those days when I was gone, dreaming of the day when I would return. Buying stuff for me so that I would know that she had never stopped trying. That she had never given up on me.
And it made me sad.
I picked up a flowery loose blouse. It was easier to accept it. “Thank you,” I said.
“I got you something else,” she said. I raised a brow, and she grinned. “Well, two things actually.” She went to the nightstand and pulled out a manilla folder, then opened it to the first page.Letter of Intent for Purchase of Commercial Property, Lot 246.I skimmed over the rest, not making sense of it.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s for the lot.” She took the folder, placing it inside the nightstand again. “It’s not ours yet, but if everything goes according to plan, it will be soon.”
My heart thumped in my chest. Was I supposed to know what she was talking about? “What lot?”
She crooked her head to the side. “The wildflower lot by Poppies & Wheat? The one you wanted to replace with a greenhouse?”
“Oh!” I smacked a hand to my face. My cheeks flushed. I had been so out of it since returning from Vincent’s. “You’re going to expand?”
“No, sweetheart,” she laughed. “Andrew and I both agreed that you need something for yourself.”
I wiped my palms on my legs. “What does Andrew have to do with this?”
“I always thought that the greenhouse proposal was an interesting idea,” she said, a smirk on her lips. I clenched my teeth together. That wasn’t how I remembered it. She dropped her eyes, her chin quivering. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it.” She was apologizing too? Was I dreaming? “Even if it’s owned by Andrew, it’ll be yours, sweetheart.”
My heart sank. Owned by Andrew? That was the catch.
“Can’t I own it by myself?” I asked.
“At your age, with your lack of background? No, sweetheart, not yet. But eventually, he can transfer everything over once you two come to an agreement.”
The room spun around me. I should have been grateful. Should have been jumping for joy. But Andrew had proved that my life was secondary to his career goals. Would he be fair when it came time to discuss something like transferring the business to me? And what about the ‘conditions’ he had asked my mother about before everything had happened?
“What about the marriage?” I asked. “The wedding? I don’t want—”
