“Anything, just ask.”
“Give me time.” I rested my chin on her crown, unable to look at her. “I believe you, every word. But somewhere deep down, you don’t trust me. And after yesterday, I’ve lost trust in you. If we don’t have trust, the whole thing falls apart.”
I felt every shallow rise and fall of her breath.
“Is it over?” she asked.
No, my heart answered. But it was all too fresh, too soon to know what to do without question. Until I had an irrefutable answer, I had no answer at all.
“I don’t know.”
She broke from my arms, taking a step back. Hurt etched her face, edged with a new sort of betrayal. “I don’t think I realized you’d be willing to walk away because I made a mistake. Because I overreacted.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s a possibility?”
I said nothing.
Now her tears were proud and pained, and she swiped hastily at her cheeks to dash them away. “My father said love isn’t just about trust—it’s about forgiveness and hope. It’s true, if we don’t have trust, the whole thing falls apart. But if you can’t forgive, then what we have won’t last anyway. So while you take your time, consider that too.”
I should have stopped her. I should have argued. I should have told her what she wanted to hear in the hopes I’d come around to that forgiveness.
Instead, I watched her back as she opened the door. A sliver of golden sunlight spilled in for the briefest of moments before it was cut off again.
And once more, I was left in the dark.
28
Queen of Ashes
MAISIE
It took the entire cab ride to Midtown to compose myself.
My life had become defined by treachery. Mother’s I’d expected. Mine had cut me off at the knees.
But what I’d done to Marcus might be the one to drag me under once and for all.
Stupidly, I’d convinced myself that he’d forgive me. That he’d understand. That together, we’d find a way for me to regain that trust I’d broken. But of course it wouldn’t be so easy. Of course he would need time. Of course he would need to consider it all. Marcus did nothing until he was absolutely certain. He wouldn’t tell me it was all right if there were even the slightest chance that it wasn’t.
I reached into my bag for my phone, opening my messages. Touching his name.
I’m sorry. And I understand. Take whatever time you need. I’ll be waiting.
And then I turned off my phone, shoving it to the depths of the bag where I wouldn’t be tempted to wait for word.
As the cab pulled up to the curb, I did my best to shove my feelings in too, because I was about to walk into Bower for a legal meeting.
With every step away from the taxi and into the building, my blood pressure rose.
Roland had been released late yesterday, as had Shelby, and this morning I’d woken to a call requesting a meeting with Roland and the head of the company’s legal department. Even if I’d wanted to refuse or postpone, I wanted to know what they had to say, how bad things were. I had not expected the meeting to be at Bower, assuming the floors we occupied would be a crime scene or something.
When I exited the elevator of the executive floor, it didn’t look like a crime scene.
It looked like a robbery.
The floor had been gutted of everything but furniture and harmless electronics. The carpet was littered with scraps of paper and a flotsam and jetsam of everything from loose staples to pens, sticky notes and paperclips. Drawers of every desk and cabinet hung open like gaping mouths, emptied of anything that could have held even a trace of evidence.
All that was left was trash and unused office supplies.
The sight was reminiscent of the remains of my life.
There wasn’t a single soul in the bullpen, the space so quiet, I could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights. The sound of my footsteps on the industrial carpet almost echoed in the wreckage of my family’s company.
It was so quiet, in fact, that when I opened the boardroom door and found Roland and the lawyer there, it very nearly startled me.
They stood when I entered, their faces grim and seemingly sleepless. And after cursory greetings, we sat across from each other.
Roland pulled his baffling handkerchief out of his pocket and swiped at his glistening forehead.
“I’m sorry to disturb you after yesterday, but I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’m sure you can imagine that we need to get Bower back up and running as quickly as possible, and we could use your help.”
“Thank you for the consideration, but I would just really like to know what is going on and what happened. I’d like to help, if I can. But I’m not sure if you’re aware that my mother fired me a few days ago.”
Roland paled, sharing a look with the lawyer before speaking. “Yes. Well, in light of your mother’s arrest, I think it’s safe to say whatever she might have said is moot.” He squirmed through a pause.
The lawyer, whom I didn’t know, gave him a look. “Start with the charges.”
“Yes, yes. Of course,” Roland started, relieved to have a thread to pull. “You see, I first discovered the misappropriation of funds a few years ago, shortly after you opened Harvest Center.” He handed me the folder on the top of the stack in front of him. I opened it as he continued, “At first I thought it was a clerical error, but when I went to Evelyn with it, she explained it away. But I don’t deal in excuses, I deal in math. Math doesn’t lie. Your mother does.”
My mouth went dry. I reached for the water pitcher and poured a glass with shaking hands.
“I watched the accounts over the course of a few months—you had left for England by that time—and when the missing money accumulated, I went to her again. But that time, she was ready for me. Her counter was the threat to make sure I took some, if not all, of the blame. She had orchestrated a setup, one designed to implicate me. And so she left me with no choice.” He straightened up, lifting his chin though his eyes were heavy with apology. “I approached the FBI that afternoon.”
Blank. I was as blank as a fresh sheet of paper.
“For the last eighteen months, we have been building a case against her. There was so much data to process, so many patterns to find. Too much research for anything to move quickly. So I let her believe she had the upper hand while they gathered what they needed to arrest and indict her. I’m sorry, Margaret. I’m sorry to have done this to you and your family. But there was nothing I could do or say to change her mind.”
“Maisie,” I heard myself say. “Please, call me Maisie.”
A small fatherly smile touched his lips. “When you came back, our new worry was you. I don’t know why she lured you here with the charity—I told her not to put you in charge of the front for her theft, but she thought she knew better. I really did try to turn it around, which likely only made the case against her stronger. If she had only restructured, closed ranks, saved money instead of stealing it, everything would have been fine, or at least better than this. But to Evelyn Bower, that would be admitting defeat, publicly and openly. Convincing her—I’m sure you’d agree—is a fool’s errand.”