Chapter Two
Grace
–two years later
“Still working?” Elizabeth says as she exits her office. As always, she’s in a beautiful designer dress—something in a pretty pink today—and her golden hair is perfectly styled and curling around her shoulders. The makeup on her face is just enough to bring out her gray eyes and highlight her model-perfect cheeks.
She’s one of the heirs to the Pryce family fortune, as well as being the head of the Pryce Family Foundation and my boss. Most importantly, she’s my savior. If she hadn’t agreed to take a chance on a kid with a history degree from UCLA nobody wanted to hire because the economy was terrible and “oh gosh, what are we supposed to do with a history major, ha-ha-ha” I would’ve been so, so screwed.
When people learn that my father is Nelson Webber, they assume I grew up in luxury and have never experienced money problems. He’s a very successful lawyer, and the Webber family is wealthy. What they don’t know is that he resents my having been born. Only if I hadn’t been conceived—or, failing that, hadn’t survived—he could’ve denied that he’d ever seduced a particular young woman. Or that he got her pregnant and then abandoned her because he didn’t have the balls to fess up to his wife.
Nelson is to himself the greatest tragic hero and victim, made to suffer endlessly. Mom and I are a burden he must bear for a “minor youthful indiscretion”—even though he was thirty-seven when he slept with my mom, who was only twenty-four. He often forgets that he hasn’t given Mom a penny in child support. He used a fake name with her, and then ran as quickly as he could when she told him she was pregnant. She only found out who he really was when his photo was all over the news because he was the lead counsel for a sensational lawsuit involving a giant pharmaceutical company sixteen years later. She didn’t chase after him for anything because she had her pride and realized he never wanted to be a responsible human being. Also, she was making enough money to support us.
But when she first became ill and started having to go to the hospital just as I was finishing high school, everything changed. Mom never earned enough to have much in savings, certainly not enough to pay for the outrageous hospital bills, and I confronted Nelson at his house, where I was blocked, and then at his law firm.
He would have continued to ignore me, except I changed tactics and went directly to his father, Andreas Webber. After a paternity test, Andreas told Nelson to man up and do the right thing or he’d sue Nelson on by my behalf for neglect, abandonment, unpaid financial support and everything else I was legally entitled to.
“I just need to check some personal emails,” I say with a smile.
“Good. I was wondering if we were working you too hard. There’s a catered lunch in the breakroom if you want. I’m out for a lunch date.” Her entire being glows as she says it. Despite being married for years, she still acts like a teenager having her first crush. She flutters her fingers. “See ya.”
Tolyan gets up from his desk and accompanies her out. I think of him as that scary Russian rather than Elizabeth’s personal assistant but don’t have the courage to say it out loud. The man gives off a weird, dangerous vibe that is completely at odds with Elizabeth’s sweet personality. And he stands out among the gentle souls at the foundation. If that man has a gentle soul, I’ll eat my toenails.
I turn my attention back to my computer and look for the weekly update from Johns Hopkins Hospital, where my mom was transferred a year and a half ago. Andreas insisted that she be treated by Dr. Adlai Blum, the world’s foremost specialist on cerebral infarctions, which is what finally put Mom into a coma two years back. Nelson flushed, probably upset at how much it’d cost, and his wife Karie protested, but neither could afford to cross Andreas.
There it is . Like clockwork.
Your mother’s condition hasn’t changed much, but the new therapy we started last week is very promising. Many patients in her situation have shown some improvement over time. She’s still relatively young, and I think she is a good candidate.
Dr. Blum’s messages are never long, but always in layman’s term and to the point, which I appreciate. The previous doctor flung dozens of technical words at me, and always acted like it was a bother to explain himself. Despite Dr. Blum’s cautious words, I’m optimistic. The last time I visited her in Baltimore, her lashes fluttered and her fingers twitched in my hand. The more I spoke to her, the more she responded, and I know she could hear me. And that means she’s getting better .
Attached to the email is a picture of her in a private room with the purple hyacinths I sent for the week. Every Monday, the local florist delivers a different bouquet, so that when Mom opens her eyes, the beautiful blossoms will be the first thing she sees.
I’d love to be there with her for that moment, but I need to make money. Although Nelson reluctantly agreed to pay for most of Mom’s care, his wife Karie isn’t as generous. She demanded I chip in as much as possible, so I ended up shouldering two thousand dollars a month. If my job didn’t pay so well, and if Andreas hadn’t let me live in one of his condos rent-free—even if it does come with my half-sister occasionally barging in to “borrow” my stuff because she somehow manages to get the key—I’d be eating nothing but ramen noodles and living under a bridge.
Actually, if it hadn’t been for Andreas, Nelson would’ve let the doctors take Mom off life support within a week of her arriving at the ER on that stormy night. He honestly wasn’t willing to do anything to keep her alive from the very beginning. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, she might not have survived at all. The grumpy stranger who gave me a ride didn’t just get me to the hospital—he probably saved my mom’s life.
Who was he?
The guy never contacted me. I didn’t give him a wrong number. I double-checked before handing him the dollar bill to make sure. I try to pay my debts, and never take anybody’s generosity or kindness for granted.
And he treated me with more kindness and patience than the situation warranted. In retrospect, nobody would’ve blamed him if he’d just driven off. I most likely sounded crazy and incoherent. Panic tends to do that.
One thing I know for sure: his car was fancy. Like, really fancy. I didn’t quite catch the make, but I can still smell the new-car smell and feel the way my dripping body sank into that soft leather. How much might it cost to take care of the seat I probably ruined with rainwater?
It was so nice of him to let that go when he didn’t have to. And his action—well, in action—reminds me that most people in the world are good, even if I did get the short end of stick in the dad department.
I make a quick voice recording for Mom so the hospital staff can play it for her. “Hey, Mom! Today’s another beautiful day! I’m at work, organizing another fundraiser for the foundation. The money is going toward helping children with cancer. Isn’t that amazing? I’m lucky to be part of an organization that cares so much about people.
“I know you’re alone now, and I’m so sorry about that. As soon as you wake up, we’re going to be together. I’m not letting you stay so far away again. We can move to someplace nice and quiet, like maybe Montana. I’ve never been, but I hear it’s beautiful. And you can have a gorgeous flower garden, just like you always wanted. I have to go now, but I’ll send another note soon. Love you.” I make a kissing noise, then end the recording and send it to Dr. Blum.
Montana . Ever since Mom collapsed, I’ve been saving every penny possible for our future. Thankfully, Andreas is paying for all the utilities at the condo—he said that was the least I deserved for all the years I’d been deprived. I shop at thrift stores and raid garage sales for everything I need. I rarely do what most people my age would consider “fun,” and all my friends, except for Adam, drifted away when they realized I was just “too cheap to live a little” with them. And Peter, of course. I don’t even know how I ended up with a boyfriend when I lead such an unexciting life.
But the sacrifice is worth it. I need to be able to take care of my mom when she gets better. Nelson isn’t somebody I can rely on. Andreas isn’t either—not because he’s as reptilian as Nelson, but because he’s so busy it’s impossible to see him unless you work at the firm or make an appointment months in advance. Being his grandchild doesn’t grant me any special access.
Still, I make a mental note to do something special for tonight. I’m going to make shrimp scampi and a chocolate cake to celebrate Peter’s promotion. He’s a lawyer at Huxley & Webber now, but when he was interning at the firm, he let the poor eighteen-year-old me sneak in to meet Andreas and plead my case. I’ll never forget his kindness, and when we reconnected last year, it just seemed right that we end up together.
I want him to know I appreciate him.