“Well, for one thing, he wanted his clothes donated to a nonprofit that gives homeless men work wardrobes to make it easier for them to interview for jobs. I’m also supposed to gather and deliver all his case files to Lee V. Coops at Ellery and Hodges for any future appeals.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Lucian offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening his texts. “I’ll have one of my employees pick up the files at your place and courier them over to the new firm.”
Why the hell was Lucian “I Own Half the World” Rollins volunteering to help my mother with errands? And why was my mother acting like this wasn’t the first time he’d played helpful?
I forced a smile through clenched teeth. “I’ll look around Dad’s study at home to make sure he doesn’t have any old files stashed there.”
“Perfect. You can give whatever you find to Lucian.”
I glanced at him and found him already looking at me. Together, we turned back to my mom. “What’s going on, Karen?” he asked at the same time as I said, “What’s going on, Mom?”
“Simon loved you both. When the cancer came back, he started thinking a lot about what was important for a good life. And the kind of grudge you both seem to be carrying isn’t healthy.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The idea I’d done anything in Dad’s last months to make him unhappy was like fresh lemon juice being squirted onto the raw edges of my grief.
“Dad was disappointed in me?” I asked, my voice husky.
Mom reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Of course not, sweetheart. He was so proud of you. Both of you for everything you’ve accomplished, everything you’ve built, how generously you’ve given. But life is unbearably short. This animosity you two are hanging on to is a waste of that precious time.”
“Okay. I’m sorry and no offense, but what does Lucian have to do with our family?”
Mom and Lucian shared a long look until he subtly shook his head.
“That right there,” I said, pointing at his face. “What the hell is with the secret head shake?”
“Lucian has done more for this family than he’ll ever let me say,” Mom said finally.
“For instance?” The words came out high-pitched and panicked.
“Lucian,” my mom prompted him.
“No.”
She rolled her eyes at him, then looked at me. “For one thing, he sent me and my friends to the spa after the funeral.”
“Karen,” Lucian said, exasperated.
Mom took his hand with her free one, connecting us through her. “Lucian, honey, at some point, you’re going to have to stop denying—”
“What can I get y’all today?” Bean Taylor, in suspenders and an apron smeared with breakfast foods, appeared, his grease-stained notebook at the ready. The man was an angel on the grill but one of the clumsiest servers on the planet.
“Hey, Bean. Good to see you,” Mom said, releasing our hands.
What did Lucian have to stop denying?
What secrets did he and my mom share?
We Waltons were an open book. We knew everything about each other. Well, almost everything.
“Listen, I need to hit the road,” Mom said, grabbing her purse and throwing cash on the table. “But it would make me very happy if you two would stay and have breakfast. And I hate to pull the guilt card, but I’m hanging on to anything that makes me happy with both hands right now.” Her eyes went glassy with tears.
I rose with her and wrapped my arms around her. Maybe if I held on tight enough, she wouldn’t go.
“I’ll give y’all another minute,” Bean said, backing away from the emotional display.
“Mom. Don’t go.” My voice broke, and she squeezed me tighter.
“I have to. It’s good for me to be productive and start thinking about what’s next. I think it’ll be good for you too. You need to get back to work,” she whispered. “Besides, I’m only a phone call away.”
I sniffled. “A phone call and some of the worst traffic in the country.”
“I’m worth the traffic.”
I let out a choked laugh. “Yeah. I guess you are.”
“I love you, Sloane,” Mom whispered. “Be happy. Do good. Don’t let this derail you for too long. Dad wouldn’t want that.”
“Okay,” I whispered as a tear escaped, streaking down the curve of my nose.
Mom released me, gave my arms a squeeze, then turned to Lucian, who was sliding out of the booth. He stood, dwarfing us both, smoothing a hand down his probably monogrammed button-down.