Page 41 of The Wish List
“She was easy to love.” I ran a finger down her cheek. “She would have liked you.”
Rosie smiled, a gentle expression on her face. I loved her softness, the way emotions played out on her face.
“Suzy and I were close. Dad was just a figure who passed through the house at times. He wasn’t mean or nasty—simply withdrawn. There was no lack of money. Anything we wanted, we got. We could have ended up spoiled and entitled, but somehow, I inherited my father’s work ethic and my mom’s love of family. Suzy got my mom’s heart—she loves as fiercely as my mom did. I made sure to keep my feet on the ground. When Dad died, all the money was split. I inherited most of the businesses. Dad was old-fashioned and always thought men should run things. I sold some of the companies and gave Suzy half, but I kept many of them. They’re profitable and let me keep giving money away. I have the right people in place running them. I oversee most of the time.”
“You must be a busy man,” she murmured. “No time for anything but work.”
“I thought so.”
Our eyes met and locked. “I can find the time for something better, Rosie. For you and AJ. I want that. I don’t want to be my father.”
“Your world is—”
I cut her off. “Lonely. Empty. It’ll be lonelier if you don’t forgive me.”
“I do forgive you.”
The weight pressing on my chest vanished. “You do?”
“We need to talk about boundaries. You have to understand something, Asher. AJ comes first. You might call or text, but if I am busy with him, he is my priority. If he were sick, I would cancel plans with you. If he needed me, I would stay with him.”
I nodded in agreement. “I do understand, and it’s one of the things I adore about you. You put your child first. Your love for him is fierce. I get that and respect it. I wish my father had been the same way.”
“How did he react when your mother died? Did he comfort you? Stay with you?”
“No. He sent people to pick us up from the foster home. He greeted us when we arrived home but was reserved. I went to their room the next day and barely recognized it. The furniture was different, all traces of her gone. I asked him, and he ignored me. I never saw him shed a tear or break down. He was never warm and loving like Mom, but he was Dad, you know? After she died, he became a polite stranger.”
“What kind of business did he run?”
“He was into real estate, shopping stores, hotel chains, so many things. He loved getting in on the ground floor and making money. He was brilliant. He could spot a solid investment, and he was never wrong.” I took a deep breath. “His very first venture, one only he owned, is still one of the most profitable and privately owned stores here. Zoles.”
She blinked. “Zoles.”
“Yes.”
“Where I met you?”
“Yes.”
“You own Zoles.”
“Yes.”
“Why were you there? You said you hated it.”
“I did. I do. It took so much of my father’s time. I used to hate what it represented. It robbed me of him. If he had to choose between it and me, it won every time. I still resent it, but I own it.” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I can’t sell it because my mother loved it. Everything about it. He named it after them. Zoe and Les.Zoles. Selling it feels wrong because of the love my mother had for it. When I grew up, I realized maybe my father spent so much of his energy on it because of what it meant to her. That maybe he was as lost as we were, but unable to admit it. That helped me forgive him. So, I keep it. In her memory.”
“Asher,” she whispered.
“I was there because every year, Zoles comes out with a limited crystal Christmas ornament. It was my mother’s idea, and it was and is huge. She gave Suzy one every year until she died. I carried on the tradition. The first Christmas after she was gone, I figured out my father wouldn’t think to buy her one, and I made my way to his office, which was on the top floor of the store in those days. I spoke to his secretary, and she took me downstairs and helped me buy the ornament.”
“At seven years old,” she said. “You went all by yourself?”
“Yes. I had the driver take me to the store, and I used the money my father gave us every week as an allowance. Mrs. Fairmount made sure my name was on the list so I could buy one every year for Suzy. I have never missed one. She insists I buy it for her.”
“And your driver still takes you to pick it up?” she teased gently.
I laughed, grateful she was trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I usually drive myself.”
