He chuckled. “I forgot to mention that if you’re going this route, you need to get a home equity line of credit, not a home equity loan. That way you’re only liable for the amount you actually use and you’re not paying interest on the rest.”
“You’re doing it again, Aiden. This is my thing, remember? I’ll make that decision.”
He gritted his teeth as he opened the passenger door and said, “Of course. Rule number one of business is to do your research.”
She gave him a deadpan look. “I thought rule number one was that my word was as good as gold.”
“There are a lot of rule number ones,” he said as she slid into the seat. “Just google home equity line of credit versus home equity loan on your phone and make your decision from there.”
As he walked around the car, he wondered where he could stop along the way to get earplugs and a muzzle, because there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d keep his mouth shut in that meeting if every single thing in the transaction wasn’t going to benefit Abby.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ON HER WAY to Shelley’s house on Friday afternoon, Abby’s thoughts drifted to Aiden, as they usually did. He was trying so hard not to step on her toes, he’d looked like it had physically pained him to keep his opinions to himself while she’d discussed financing options with the banker. When she’d finally asked for Aiden’s opinion, the gust of relief that he’d expelled had been almost comical. But he’d asked a litany of questions Abby hadn’t thought to ask, and the answers had proven that he was right about applying for a home equity line of credit instead of a home equity loan, confirming once again that he had her back, even though she knew he would have preferred she’d gone the angel investor route. They would find out next week if she was approved for the line of credit.
She climbed the front steps to Shelley’s house feeling nervous and grateful and realized that Shelley’s family had also always had her back. She’d spent as much time in Shelley’s house as she had in her own before her father died, and she had great memories of sleepovers and playdates with Leni. Her brothers would try to scare them or pull pranks on them, while her older sister, Sutton, would act like she didn’t have time for them, even though they were only a couple of years younger than her, or she’d share her vast knowledge about life and they’d eat it up. Jules, who was three years younger than Leni and Abby, would insist on sleeping wherever they slept, and then she’d fall asleep twenty minutes into the slumber party. And without fail, sometime during the evening Shelley would wrangle as many of them as she could into baking with her. Her husband, Steve, would sneak into the kitchen for tastes of whatever they were making and steal kisses from Shelley. He always took the time to ask after Abby and her sister. Baking and chatting with Leni’s parents had been one of Abby’s favorite parts of their sleepovers, and after her father died, she’d missed those carefree times. She had no idea how to thank the woman who had done so much for her family, and at the same time, she wanted to tell Shelley she shouldn’t have done it.
Gratitude and unease warred within her as she knocked on the door, still trying to come up with an appropriate thank-you.
Shelley opened the door, vibrant in a green wrap dress. “Hi, Abby. I’m so glad you called—”
Swamped with emotions, Abby threw her arms around Shelley, hugging her tight, and whispering, “Thank you. Thank you so much!”
“Wow. Now, that’s a greeting. You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Shelley let go, but Abby held her tighter. “Honey, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered, but she held on for another minute, regaining control of her emotions.
When Abby finally stepped back, Shelley looked worried. “What on earth did I do to deserve that special thank-you?”
“You did things you shouldn’t have so Deirdra and I could do the things you thought we should.”
For a split second Shelley looked choked up, but she quickly schooled her expression and said, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, but I was happy to hear from you last night. You gave me a reason to make chicken and dumplings soup for lunch, your favorite. Come in.”
Shelley believed food made from the heart fed a person’s soul, and chicken and dumplings had been Abby’s comfort food as a child. The meal was a dead giveaway that Shelley had already figured out why Abby had come. But as Abby followed her toward the heavenly scent of homemade cooking, she had to hand it to her for keeping up the ruse.
Shelley handed her a bowl of soup and said, “I thought we’d sit out back and enjoy the sunshine while we chat.” They carried their bowls outside, where a fresh pitcher of iced tea and two place settings waited for them on the patio table. They’d been blessed with an extended warm front, and daffodils were already starting to bloom. “I’m sorry you missed Leni. She ran over to Jules’s shop.”
“I knew she was going to be busy today. We’ve been texting,” Abby said as they settled into their chairs. “We’re meeting her tonight for dinner.”
“Oh yes, she mentioned that. I love that all you kids still get together. Maybe she’ll visit more often now that you’re moving to the island.”
“Maybe,” Abby said, wrestling with what to say next. It was obvious Shelley didn’t want to fess up to what she’d done, but Abby couldn’t let it go. She’d have to ease into it. She ate some soup and said, “Thank you for making time for me, and for making this. It’s delicious.”
“You’re very welcome. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to talk about, but favorite foods go a long way. Your romantic new beau, perhaps? The Bistro? The sisterly surprise your mother left you?”
“Sure, all of those things. But, Shelley, Aiden and I went through the books for the Bistro the other day, and we found some rather unusual transactions. I thought you might want to tell me about them.”
Shelley ate a spoonful of soup and said, “Not really, no.”
“Shelley . . .” She didn’t want to push, but at the same time, she did want to talk about it.
Shelley set down her spoon and put her hand over Abby’s. “Honey, I promised you the island would take care of your mom, and I meant it. I only wish we had known how sick she was before it was too late, but with the restaurant closed for the winter, our visits were few and far between. She claimed she wasn’t sleeping and begged out of our get-togethers. We all tried to reach out to her. Lenore, the other Bra Brigaders, Margot . . . But your mama was a proud woman.”
“I wouldn’t say proud, considering she let you do so much for her, and she let the Bra Brigaders work for free.”
“Oh, honey. She never knew what we did, or about the ladies not being paid. Ava didn’t look at the books. She trusted me.”
For some reason Abby suddenly felt like she was going to cry. She took a sip of her iced tea, steeling herself against the guilt rising inside her, and said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for her. I know you were with her in the end, and I understand why you didn’t call us. I wish . . .”
“I know what you wish, sweetheart. You would have been there if you’d known, just as I would have called you if my loyalty didn’t have to lie with her first. That might seem hard to understand. But as a mother, I know there are certain things some parents can’t handle, and as I said when I met with you and your sisters, your mom had hit her limit.”