Chapter 3
“I ’m so sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” my mother says, planting a kiss on my cheek and then wiping away the lipstick stain she left behind.
Taking the seat across from me, her gaze catches on the amazing view of Boston through the glass of the walls of the restaurant.
Snow continues to fall, blanketing The Public Garden and the Commons beyond in a glorious sea of white. It’s majestic. Peaceful.
And yet my insides are a fucking mess.
“Not a problem. I was late arriving,” I tell her, signaling the waiter so my mother can order something to drink, and I can focus on menial tasks instead of thinking about the reason for this lunch or the woman I rescued this morning who is somewhere in this hotel at this very moment.
My mother orders her usual chamomile tea and tells the waiter we need a few more minutes with the menu. I inwardly grimace. As much as I love my mother and love spending time with her, this is not just any casual lunch we’re having.
“How has your morning been?”
I nearly snicker at that. As it is, I’m having a hell of a time hiding my smirk. Bianca, the crazy, intriguing runaway bride certainly made my morning interesting. “Uneventful,” I go with, because anything else will lead to questions I don’t want to answer.
“How’s the hospital? Your patients?”
“Good. Fine. Busy.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
I raise a warning eyebrow. “Mother…”
She laughs, lifting her water glass and taking a sip. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
“No. I suppose not. Even when you know better than to ask.”
“There is no such thing as knowing better when you’re a mother. We throw darts and hope one eventually hits a bull’s-eye. But I will always ask that question because I will always hope your answer changes.”
A grunt and now it’s my turn to stare out the window.
“Would you rather get the business side of this done? I don’t want to ruin lunch alone with my son over it. We don’t have many of these, just you and me.”
My shoulders hunch forward, a frown curling down the corners of my lips, and I peel myself away from the snow and back to her. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, feeling a touch bad for being so short. “I didn’t mean to be curt. But you know this is not a conversation I’ve been looking forward to.”
She sets her glass down and leans against the table, pinning me with her sweet, motherly stare. “I know and for that I’m sorry. I’ve held on as long as I can, but after the scare we had over Thanksgiving, your father is adamant that I retire and pass on the reins of the foundation on.”
“It’s not just him. We all think it’s time you step down.
” Last summer, my mother was diagnosed with recurrent breast cancer.
She underwent a double mastectomy and two rounds of chemo.
Then over Thanksgiving, she collapsed in the shower, and it was discovered she had a bowel perforation that caused an abscess and a massive infection.
She had surgery but was lucky to survive it all.
Now here she sits with me, looking healthy again.
So far none of her tests and scans haven’t shown any more cancer.
We’re keeping our fingers crossed on that.
But she doesn’t need the stress of running our family foundation and since her great-great-grandfather founded it, it’s always been run by the eldest member of the Abbot family.
That’s me. Whether I like it or not.
“I’ll do what I have to do, but Mom, I honestly don’t know when I’ll have the time.
My days are spent at the hospital. My hours there are long.
” Being a pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon is just about the hardest specialty there is.
It requires perfection at all times. Every ounce of my focus and concentration.
And it’s where my heart and passion lie. Not in the foundation. I love the foundation and I’m grateful for the work it does, but running it is not what I want. It never has been. I’d be a happy man if I could spend fifty percent of my time on the water and the other fifty percent in the OR.
The waiter comes over, delivers my mother’s tea, and we order our food.
She takes a sip from her cup and then sets it back down.
“The foundation requires a full-time person to run it and your job is already more than full time. I’m not asking you to choose one over the other or leave your work at the hospital.
I would never do that. I understand the importance of what you do, Kaplan.
Which is why I have a plan in place to help.
You’re going to need someone to work directly with you.
Someone to help take over the extra burden I’m placing on you. ”
“I agree with that. Wholeheartedly.”
“Wonderful.” Her expression brightens. “As luck would have it, I believe I might have found you the perfect person for that.”
I take a large pull of my coffee, holding on to the warm mug as I study my mother.
Octavia Abbot-Fritz is no fool and is something of an evil genius when it comes to scheming and plotting her children’s lives.
Whoever this person is, I don’t know them otherwise, she would have mentioned them by name.
This is someone new she’s bringing in and that’s what gives me pause.
She’s also impossible to read when she chooses to be.
“Do you now?” I question skeptically, setting my coffee down and folding my arms across my chest as I shoot her a disbelieving look she readily ignores.
“Yes. I’m waiting to hear back from her on the position I offered her, but she’ll be excellent. She has a master’s degree in both business and finance.”
“Hmmm. I thought the foundation already had staff. Assistants.”
She waves me away, knowing precisely what my tone is suggesting.
“Of course they do, but this person would be assigned directly to you and not part of the admin pool. You require more than just an administrative assistant for you and the foundation to be successful. This person’s sole purpose will be to keep you organized and on top of things.
Attend meetings in your place when you’re unable.
Make decisions if need be. That sort of thing.
Everyone else who works there is already so busy with all the important work the foundation does. ”
Impossible to argue that.
“Truly, dear, I know the position I’m putting you in with the foundation,” she continues.
“I know the demands of your work in the hospital. This person, should she accept the position, and I think she shall”—a glimmer of something hits her eyes when she says that—“will make your life so much easier.”
I blow out a sigh just as our food arrives. My mother may be cunning when it comes to our love lives, but she’d never hire anyone to work for the foundation who isn’t qualified. The foundation has always been her pride and joy, a job she takes as seriously as being a mother.
“Okay.” I suck in a breath, ready to get this over and done with.
“Yes, I officially accept the role as the new CEO of the Abbot Foundation and when you step down from the board, I’ll take over as chairman.
And yes, I will need someone who works solely for me to help with that because as you said, I’m not leaving the hospital or my work there and dividing time between the two feels impossible.
If you believe this woman is right for the job, I will trust you on that.
” For now , I don’t add. But I will secretly retain the right to fire her if needed.
“Wonderful.” A warm, satisfied smile spreads across her face and the chill I have been wearing around my shoulders like an icy blanket since I woke up this morning starts to thaw. “Now, on to other topics.”
We start to chat about my siblings, both of us digging into our meals when my phone vibrates in my pocket with a notification. Sliding it out, I see I have a text from my friend Ellis.
Unable to meet up for brunch tomorrow. Leaving town earlier than anticipated, but I’ll be back for work in a couple of months, so let’s plan something for then.
Disappointment coupled with an ancient sadness swims through me.
I haven’t seen or even talked to Ellis in a couple of years now and I was eager to catching up with him.
While that’s the reason for the disappointment, it’s not the reason for the sadness.
Ellis’s younger brother, Forest, was my high school and college best friend.
We were inseparable. Then he died in a horrifically awful way and even now, ten years later, I still can’t shake the guilt and pain.
But it’s more than that. Because every time I think of Forest or Ellis, I also can’t help but think of Bunny. Their younger stepsister.
Sorry to miss you this time. Get in touch when you’re back around and we’ll make something work.
My finger hovers over the send button, my mind wandering, tempted to ask about her. About Bunny. Even though I know I shouldn’t. She was one of the main reasons I had been looking forward to seeing him and now I feel robbed.
No one knows about the strange friendship I had with her. Not Ellis. No one.
It didn’t start under the best of situations.
Forest died, and I was wrecked over it. She was worse than I was, understandably so.
I had met her once when she’d come out to Dartmouth to visit Forest. She was a child then and when he died ten years ago, she was barely a teenager. Fifteen at the most.
I didn’t anticipate a connection like the one I had with Bunny.
I felt responsible for some of what happened and so did she. My heart broke for her. Such a young girl to live through something like that and out of love for my friend, I looked after her. Checked up on her frequently. But our calls and texts and emails were more…