“I’ve always liked to think that,” Ma says. “But I’ve spent most of your lives doing everything myself. Never asking for help, as though there’s something shameful about needing it. I wanted you both to be strong and independent, and you are—but you went overboard. And I did, too.” She shifts in her chair. “I’m going to tell you something that’s a little hard to admit. Before the lawsuit happened, I’d been thinking about closing Spare Me. I was worn down running a business by myself, and I wanted to try something new. But I didn’t know how to tell the two of you that. It felt like admitting I’d failed. Then the DeWitts sued and—I didn’t fight as hard as I could have. I was underinsured, yes, but I could’ve made it work. I chose not to. And I should have told you that.”
She sits back in her chair like she’s waiting for a response, so I grapple for one even though I’m having a hard time making sense of her words. Autumn looks equally confused, tugging on a strand of hair as she taps one foot on the ground. “So you…you wanted Spare Me to go under?” I finally ask.
“I don’t think I would have put it that way at the time,” Ma says. “But looking back, I think that I did.” Her face softens as she takes in our blank expressions. “I know that place meant the world to the two of you. It was a big part of your lives for a long time. I was proud of it, and of having a family business, but I was also exhausted. And that’s my entire point.”
Autumn scrunches her forehead. “What is?”
“That I preferred extreme failure to admitting I needed help. Which is a problem, isn’t it? Because I’ve passed that exact characteristic on to the two of you.” Her dark eyes bore into mine. “It’s not always a bad thing to be proud and stubborn. You get things done. But once I got sick, everything fell apart, and none of us had the tools to deal with that.”
Autumn bites her lip. “Aunt Elena, it’s not your fault that I—”
“I’m not saying it’s my fault,” Ma interrupts. “I’m saying I recognize I’ve modeled some unhealthy behaviors for the two of you. And that stops now.” She leans forward, her face becoming more animated. “James has given me carte blanche on what to do with the Carlton Entertainment Complex, including shutting it down and rebuilding Spare Me exactly like it was before. But I don’t want that. I like the plans for the CEC; they make sense. And I like James’s overall vision, so I’m joining Shepard Properties as a managing director for the entertainment division.”
She waits expectantly for our response. “So you’re working for Ivy’s dad?” I ask. I don’t know why I called him that, instead of James. Might just be where my head’s at lately.
“I am. It’s a fantastic job with great benefits. The co-pay on my medication will actually be twenty dollars.” She narrows her eyes at Autumn, who’s suddenly very interested in a stray thread on the couch cushion. “Being part of a team is going to be a nice change, and it’s exactly what I need at this point in life. It’s also what you need, because supporting this family is not in your job description. I’m sorry I allowed you to think that it is.”
We’re all silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. I can’t fully wrap my brain around everything she’s saying yet—the idea that Spare Me wasn’t so much the rock our family was built on as a rock around her neck—but there’s a small sense of relief, suddenly, at letting it go. Because maybe then I can let some other things go, too.
“We’re going to be fine. Better than fine,” Ma says firmly. “I’m optimistic about your case, Autumn. It’s early days, but I think your genuine remorse, and the fact that you turned yourself in, will make a difference. In the meantime, I have a chance to build something new, and please believe me when I say that I am happy about that.” She gives me one last, shrewd look. “So I don’t want either of you hanging on to resentment about what happened last spring with Patrick DeWitt’s accident. We’re in no position to cast stones. All right?”
We both mumble assent as Ma gets to her feet. “Good,” she says. “I’m going to rest for a little while, and then I’ll make dinner.” She heads upstairs, and Autumn waits until we hear the sound of Ma’s bedroom door clicking shut to speak.
“Well,” she says. “That’s a lot to process.”