Chapter 14 Grady #2
I flinched as if she’d smacked me. “Are you kidding me? After how they’ve treated you? What did they say? Did they apologize?” I was so stunned by everything she’d just said I couldn’t think straight.
“No, they were awful, just like I knew they would be.” She looked at me, eyes blazing.
“My mother said, ‘We knew you’d come to your senses eventually.’ And my father got on the phone and told me this is what happens when you don’t think things through.
When you follow your heart instead of your head.
And the worst part is he’s right. I’m thirty-four years old, begging my parents for money like I’m twenty again, and I have no one to blame but myself.
I’m exactly that person. The one who makes terrible decisions and then has to ask for help. ”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” She whirled to face me. “I got pregnant at twenty by a man who turned out to be worthless. I dropped out of college. I’m running a flower shop that barely breaks even.
I can’t afford health insurance. I can’t send my brilliant son to a program he deserves.
I can’t even keep my daughter in shoes that fit. ”
The words came out before I could stop them. “I can pay the fees. I can get Madison shoes. I can get her five hundred pairs if that’s what she needs.”
She stared at me. “What?”
“I have it. The money. Lots and lots of money.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness. Did your dad leave you something?”
My heart pounded against my rib bones, and the palms of my hands were damp. This wasn’t how I’d planned to tell her. But here we were. “Yeah. He did.”
“How much?” Esme asked.
I took a breath. “Twenty million dollars.”
Her mouth fell open. “Did you just say twenty million dollars?”
“Yeah.”
She studied me, blinking. “But I thought there wasn’t any money left after all the legal stuff?”
“He set up the trusts a long time ago that were untouchable. My mother asked him to. According to the attorney, it was when she was sick and knew she was dying. She wanted to make sure we were okay after she was gone. And I learned something else. She was the one who brought money into the marriage. It was because of her that my dad could get started in the business.”
“No way. I … I.” She stopped, then started again. “That’s an incomprehensible amount of money.”
“I know.”
“And you’re taking it?”
“I am.”
She pressed her hands to her mouth, tears spilling from her eyes as she swiped at them with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s kind of hard to grasp. But I’ve done a lot of soul-searching over the last few days.
I’ve realized it’s time to make different decisions about my life.
Turning away from my father and everything he represented was necessary for me to figure out who I am.
But now, there are about twenty million reasons to take the money. And my mother wanted me to have it.”
“Twenty million reasons?” Esme echoed, her voice as lonesome as a train whistle at midnight.
“The very first reason—the most important one of all—is you. Followed by Robbie and Madison. I can give you anything you need from now on. You won’t have to worry ever again.”
She stood abruptly. Trevor’s head slipped off her lap, and he whined softly. “Please tell me you didn’t take the money because of us.”
“What?”
“If we’re the reason you’re taking blood money from your father—it’s too much.” She pressed her hands to her temples. “It puts too much pressure on me. You’ll be just another person who had to come to my rescue.”
“But it’s not like that.”
“And you can’t just offer to buy Madison five hundred pairs of shoes like she’s your kid.”
That hurt. “I’m offering to help. Why is that wrong?”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.” Her voice rose. “You come back here with twenty million dollars and suddenly you think you can solve everything. Pay for Robbie’s program, buy Madison new shoes, probably pay off my hospital bills too, right? Maybe buy me a new car while you’re at it?”
“What’s wrong with doing any of those things?”
“Because, we’re not your family. And do you know what that makes me?
” She whirled to face me. “It makes me a charity case. It makes me the poor single mom who can’t take care of her own kids.
It makes me everything my parents said I was—irresponsible, incapable, someone who can’t make it on her own. ”
“That’s not what I think.”
“But it is, or you wouldn’t be doing the whole knight in shining armor thing.” Her face had grown pink, and splotches of red showed on her neck. “You feel sorry for me. Everyone feels sorry for flaky Esme.”
“No. Absolutely not. You’re important to me. All three of you.”
“Important.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s a nice word for pity.”
“It’s not pity.”
“Then what is it?” She crossed her arms, waiting.
This was my chance to tell her the truth. I loved her. I’d loved her for years. That this wasn’t about charity or pity. This was about building a life together.
But before I could open my mouth, she spoke again.
“I’m going back to Seattle.”
I got to my feet, staring at her, sure I’d heard her wrong. “What?”
“When I talked with my parents today—telling them I needed help—they said I could come home.” Her voice was flat with the sound of defeat.
“It’s time, Grady. I tried to make it on my own but I just can’t do it.
I’m a college dropout running a sinking business with no health insurance or college funds for kids who deserve so much better.
It’s time I stopped being selfish, and just admit defeat.
I’m going home. I’m going to sell the shop and the building.
Move back. Maybe go back to school. Figure out what I should have done when I got divorced and screwed everything up. ”
“You didn’t screw everything up.”
“Yes, I did.” She met my eyes. “I followed my heart instead of my head. Married the wrong person. Had kids I couldn’t afford.
Stayed in a town where I’m barely surviving instead of going somewhere I could actually make it work.
And now my daughter is bleeding from shoes that don’t fit and my son can’t go to a program he deserves.
I’m thirty-four years old with nothing to show for it. ”
“That’s not true.”
“You have twenty million dollars. You can do whatever you want. Go anywhere. Buy anything.” She wiped her eyes. “We’re not the same anymore. Maybe we never were.”
“Esme, that’s simply not true.”
“I’m tired.” She moved toward the hallway. “I need to go to bed. You should probably go.”
“Can we talk about this? Please?”
She stopped at the doorway to her bedroom, her back to me. “There’s nothing to talk about. You have your life. I have mine. And right now, mine needs to be in Seattle with my parents, figuring out how to actually provide for my kids instead of playing at being a florist in a town I can’t afford.”
“You’ve built a beautiful life here.”
“Beautiful doesn’t pay the bills.” She looked back at me, and the dejection in her eyes made it hard to swallow against the lump in my throat. “Thank you for offering to help. Really. But I can’t take it. I have to do this on my own. Or I have to admit I can’t do it and go home.”
“Esme—”
“Goodnight. Please lock the door behind you.”
She disappeared into her room.
Stunned, I stood there in the living room, Trevor at my feet, and stared at that closed door.
I’d come here to tell her I loved her and that all I wanted was to build a life with her and the kids.
But I’d bungled it completely, making it worse by offering to fix everything with money like she was a problem to be solved instead of the woman I loved.
Still, I’d thought she’d understand. I thought she’d see that the inheritance didn’t mean anything if I couldn’t use it to take care of them. Instead, she was leaving and moving back to Seattle. Leaving me and her business and her friends. Trevor whined, nudging my hand.
“I know, buddy,” I said. “I messed up.”
I grabbed my bag from where I’d left it by the door, looking back once at her closed bedroom door before heading down the stairs and into the October fog.
I made sure to lock the door behind me.