Chapter Thirty-Four Mary
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mary
Two years ago
I’d been living at home for about six months when Sam showed up.
She must have been keeping an eye on the calendar—as well as the house—because she turned up at the gate shortly after my parents left for Langston Pharma’s annual retreat in Key West. She knew the housekeeper would be off and I’d be home alone for the weekend.
I saw her on the camera feed as soon as she buzzed the intercom.
“What do you want, Sam?” I asked from my end of the two-way speaker.
“To talk. Let me in?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Mary, please, let me just say what I have to say, then I swear I’ll leave you alone. I won’t bother you again.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, silently berating myself even as I pressed the button allowing her entry. A few minutes later, she was standing in front of me on the porch steps. I didn’t invite her inside.
“What is it? What do you want to say? Because I have to get to work.”
“Right, um, okay. So . . . I’ve had a lot of time to think about . . . well, everything. And I’m really sorry. I mean, truly. I do regret everything I did to . . .” She paused and swallowed. This was hard for her. “I regret everything I did to sabotage your relationship.”
“Fine. You’ve said it. Now please go,” I replied dispassionately.
“No, wait—what I’m trying to say is that I realize what I did.
You maybe could have had something permanent with Brad if I hadn’t worked so hard to destroy it.
” She hesitated, eyes on the floor. “I hurt him too. He didn’t deserve that—being pulled into our mess.
I used him to prove something to myself, and all I proved was how broken I was.
” The statement made me pause. She sighed and continued.
“It’s like, after so many years of being on my own, I’d gotten used to having you all to myself.
And I liked it that way. In my mind, no one was ever going to be good enough for you.
In my mind, it was always going to be just us—you and me. The two of us against the world.”
She took a step forward and took both my hands in hers. I didn’t pull away.
“I swear to God, Mary, I will never interfere with your life—with your happiness again. It’s not healthy, and it’s not right.
I think . . . maybe I need to see a therapist. Not just about this, but about all the crap that’s constantly churning around in my head.
I’m so tired of not being able to control it, but I need help.
I don’t think I can resolve any of it on my own. ”
“You said ‘crap,’” I observed.
“Um . . . yeah?”
“Why didn’t you say ‘shit’?”
She shrugged. “Because your parents don’t like it.”
“They’re not here, and you know it,” I pointed out.
She nodded. “That’s true. But I’m standing in front of their house, and it would be disrespectful to them. I’m willing to do better—with you and with them. Because you love them . . . and I love you.”
It was the first time she’d said the words, and against all odds, I was incredibly, inconceivably moved by them. When I opened my arms, she flew into them, holding me tight as she buried her face in my shoulder.
It occurred to me then there weren’t just things you don’t come back from. There were people you don’t come back from too. And for me, Sam Kinski was one of them.
We moved inside eventually, both of us nursing cups of coffee at the kitchen island. I told her about the agreement to move back home and how my parents and I had managed to maintain a cool but civil relationship for the last half year. Now she tilted her head, considering me curiously.
“Something’s changed in you,” she observed.
I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“You still care for them . . .”
“I do,” I agreed.
“But you’re not happy with them.”
Another shrug from me. “I resent them using my own money against me, but I don’t have much of a choice at the moment.”
“Why not fight them? Like in court?” she asked.
“That’d cost tens of thousands of dollars—none of which I have on me at the moment. And there’s no guarantee some crotchety old judge won’t agree with them. Hell! They’ve probably financed campaigns for half the elected officials in this state!”
“Okay, I get that. But what happens if they decide you’re not ready at the end of the year? What if they want another year?”
“That’s why I had Ken put everything in writing,” I told her.
“Every term, every condition. I wasn’t about to give them an inch.
One year, a fixed stipend, and written confirmation that I’d get full access to my trust documents.
If they try to stall, they’ll have to go through my lawyer—and a judge—this time. ”
Sam raised her eyebrows, half impressed, half wary. “Good. Because you know they’ll try it if they can.”
“Oh, I know,” I said. “But at least now they’ll have to work harder to screw me over.”
She studied me for a long moment. “Still, you shouldn’t have to fight this hard for what’s yours.”
“Welcome to being a Langston,” I said dryly. “Every gift comes with a leash.”
She frowned. “You have seen the trust itself, right? The full document?”
I hesitated. “Not yet. Ken said he didn’t have the original on hand—it’s locked in the safe in the study. He promised I could review it later.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “And you believed that?”
I sighed. “At the time, yeah. The whole meeting caught me off guard. I thought I was there to sign for the distribution, not to defend myself. They had their lawyer, their folders, their script. I just wanted to get out of that office before I lost it.”
Sam pushed back her chair and stood. “Well, you’re not off guard now.”
I looked up at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You said the trust is locked in the safe here, right? So let’s go look at it.”
“What? Sam, no—”
“Why not? They’re out of town. We’ve got a whole weekend before anyone’s back. You said you wanted to know the truth.” She was already walking toward the study. “Seems to me this is your chance.”
I stared after her, heart thudding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief.
“Sam—”
She looked back over her shoulder with that familiar crooked grin. “You coming, or you want me to do the breaking and entering solo?”
And just like that, I found myself following her down the hall toward my father’s study, the taste of coffee and guilt bitter in my throat.