Blue Moon Page 14

  Mary burst out laughing. Unfortunately, DeeDee's sarcasm was too close to the truth to be dismissed. Elizavon was an austere old woman, totally devoid of warmth. She wasn't looking forward to seeing her again.

  She searched for a brighter side. With any luck, her aunt would agree to be a silent partner, and in a few years she could buy her out. Yeah, right. The chances of that happening were the same as her winning the lottery.

  She was tempted to call the whole thing off, but the desire to get rid of her nightmares and own her own bed and breakfast was too strong. She'd do anything to buy that plantation, even if it meant putting up with Elizavon as a partner.

  Chapter 21

  Jack struggled to keep the tears at bay as he pushed Audrey's wheelchair out of the physician's building. One hand gripped her shoulder as shudders of grief wracked her slender body. When the sobbing abated, he silently pulled a couple of tissues out of his pocket and handed them to her. Their meeting with her doctor had been worse than he'd ever imagined. His stomach felt like somebody had stabbed him with a sharp knife several times, and his chest was tight and painful. She had even less time than he'd thought.

  The doctor's words seared across his brain like a red hot poker iron. Two months. She had less than two months to live. Grief wracked his body, then a strange numbness fell over him as he struggled to remain calm. He had to be strong, for Audrey's sake.

  Audrey waited in the heated alcove while he hailed a taxi. Once he lifted her inside the cab, he folded the wheelchair and stuffed it into the trunk. The cab driver took one look at their tear-streaked faces and withheld comment.

  No one spoke on the short ride home. Jack watched Audrey out of the corner of his eye as she stared out the window, oblivious to anything going on around her. There were no words left to say. Nothing could soothe her grief. When they arrived at their apartment building, she remained quiet as he lifted her from the seat and placed her gently into the wheelchair.

  After locking the door, he reached up to close the curtains to shut out the winter sunlight streaming through the living room window.

  "Don't close the curtains; I want to see the light," Audrey said in a strained voice. "I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin for as long as I can."

  He reached over and rested his head on the side of her wheelchair, finally allowing his tears to fall.

  She said nothing, merely stroked the back of his neck as sobs of grief shook his body. When he'd cried all the tears he could, she placed her hand under his chin and forced him to look up at her.

  "Well, now we know," she muttered. She stared out the window for several minutes. "In a way, I'm glad." She heard Jack's sharp intake of breath and shook her head. "I mean, I'm glad to know how long I have left." Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, and she tightened her grip on Jack's hand. "Jack, hold me. Hold me close, please."

  He held her in his arms, and she buried her face in his sweater. Tears streamed down his face as he gently stroked the back of her head. "Oh, chickee, I'm so sorry. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make you all better."

  She shook her head and squeezed him tighter. "It's okay, Jack. I think I'm finally ready to accept this."

  He held her away from him for a moment. "What do you mean?"

  She rubbed her face with her fingers. "I mean, I know that when...when I die, I'm going to a better place." She hugged him once more. "I'm so glad you brought Father Morton over to see me. His coming here every day has helped a lot." She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "I know that God's waiting for me on the other side, Jack. I know that when I die, I won't lay in that casket, staring into darkness forever. I know that when my time comes, my soul will be released, and I'll go to Heaven."

  Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held her close. "Oh, Audrey. I'm so glad you've found the answers to your questions. I've been so worried about you."

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you, Jack. Thank you for loving me, for caring for me, and most of all, for helping me find peace."

  He kissed her cheek, then scooped her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. "I'll start a fire. It's getting cold in here."

  She placed a restraining hand on his arm. "It's okay, Jack. I'm not cold. Please, sit by me and hold me, just for a little while, please."

  "Okay, Audrey." He pulled the wool blanket close around them and held her tight.

  She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "You know, Jack. I am worried about one thing."

  "What's that?"

  She smiled. "Well, actually there's two things. First, I'm worried about you. I know we've had our ups and downs, but we had a good marriage, didn't we? We were happy at first, weren't we?"

  He ruffled her short blonde hair. "Of course we were, chickee."

  "I'm sorry it couldn't have been better this last year, Jack. I know we grew apart, and that things weren't the same between us." Two tears rolled down her face. "What happened to us, Jack? Did we just lose what we had?"

  Sighing, he grabbed a tissue from his pocket and dried her tears. "I don't know, Audrey. It's not as if we don't love each other, because we do."

  She smiled at him through her tears. "Yeah, no matter what else happens, we still have that." She turned to face him. "The second thing I wanted to tell you is kind of hard to say, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way. If I hadn't gotten sick, things might have turned out differently for us."

  "What do you mean?"

  She shifted her position, and looked away. "Well, I've been talking to Father Morton, and he told me I need to make sure I have a clear conscience. He thinks that maybe there's something I haven't faced up to that might be triggering some of my fears."

  He shook his head. "You? What on earth could you possibly be hiding? Audrey, you're the most honest person I know."

  She shook her head, and two tears fell down her cheeks. "You're wrong, Jack. I'm not such a good person. I have something to tell you, and it's very difficult for me. I've been wanting to tell you for some time now, but I just couldn't find the right words."

  He squeezed her hand. "What is it, Audrey? You know you can tell me anything. Anything at all."

  She hid her face in his chest. "Oh, Jack. I feel so guilty. I need to tell you that I was going to ask you for a divorce. Just before I got ill. I was going to tell you that I wanted to divorce you because...because I didn't love you anymore the way I did when we were first married." Tears poured from her eyes and her voice broke between sentences. "I wanted to get a divorce, but then I got sick, and I didn't have anybody but you, so I didn't tell you."

  Sobbing, she leaned against him, her frail body shaking from her grief. "I'm so sorry, Jack. Can you ever forgive me? It's not that I didn't love you; I just didn't want to be married to you anymore. And now, here I am, still here, because I need you. Oh God, I'm so sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry."

  Audrey wanted a divorce? Stunned, he held her against him, stroking her short hair. "That's okay, chickee. I think we both felt it was time for a change."

  She looked up at him. "You did? Why didn't you say something?"

  He looked away, searching for the right words. "It wasn't that I'd found anybody else. I just felt like something was missing from our marriage. I didn't say anything, because I hoped going to the marriage counselor could help us work out our problems."

  She nodded. "Me, too. I wasn't unfaithful, Jack. I want you to know that. But like you, I wanted more out of my marriage, and I was afraid that we'd lost what we once had." Sighing, she leaned back in his arms. "If only I hadn't gotten sick."

  He squeezed her against him. "Well, whatever might have happened doesn't matter now, chickee. What's important is that I'm here for you, and I won't let you down. Not now, not ever."

  She stroked the side of his face. "I do love you, Jack. I want you to know that."

  He smiled. "I love you too, chickee. Always have, always will."

  She struggled to a sitting position. "I want you to promise
me something, Jack. I want you to promise me that you'll find somebody to love after...after I'm gone. I don't want to worry about you being alone."

  Terrible guilt consumed him. "Don't worry about me, Audrey. I'll be fine."

  She watched him for a few moments. "You know, Jack, you still haven't introduced me to Mary. I still want to talk to her about what happened at the plantation."

  He sighed. "I'm trying, Audrey. But you have to understand that Mary's in the same line of work as I am. She travels almost as much as I do."

  Audrey stood up, holding onto Jack for support. "I know that, Jack. But please, keep trying." She walked over to a chair and paused. "You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking about that plantation you went to, and I think I want to see it. Would you take me down to Louisiana?"

  He nearly fell off the couch in surprise. "You can't be serious, Audrey. There must be something more important you want to do than that. Don't you want to see your family?"

  She shook her head. "No, they've turned their backs on me too many times for that Jack. I've forgiven them for not coming to see me while I'm sick, but I don't have any desire to visit them. Can you please see what you can do about arranging a meeting with Mary and visiting the plantation?"

  He shook his head. "Are you sure you want to do this? You're too sick to travel. What if it makes you worse?"

  A bitter smile formed on her lips. "Jack, nothing can make me worse. I'm dying, remember? Do you, or do you not, want to take me to the plantation?"

  He nodded, ashamed of his reaction. "I'll take you to see the plantation and make sure you get to meet Mary. I promise."

  She smiled. "Thanks. I'm kind of tired, Jack. Do you think you could wheel me to my room? I think I want to lie down and take a nap. Please."

  He carefully tucked her into bed. "Don't worry, Audrey; I'll make sure you get your wish," he promised as he ruffled the short, blonde hair that covered her head like a halo. "No matter what it takes."

  Chapter 22

  The next morning Mary awoke to a silent world. She turned on her radio to the newscaster's announcement that fourteen inches of snow had fallen since midnight. A quick look out the window confirmed his report. Maybe she'd get a snow day from the office! The announcer warned everyone to keep off the ice-covered streets until city work crews cleared the roads.

  She dialed the office and listened to Mac's recorded message about the snow day. Good! That gave her an entire day to work on her proposal.

  Back in her room, she dug out her reference material from the closet. As she scanned the pages, she decided to add more information on market shares, and spent the next two hours calling bed and breakfast owners she knew for details. She looked up as DeeDee entered.

  "What time is it?" DeeDee asked, rubbing her eyes.

  Mary glanced at her watch. "It's ten-thirty, sleepyhead. You must've slept well. I heard your snores all the way in here."

  DeeDee grinned and picked up some of the pages. "What's this?"

  "Aunt Elizavon's proposal."

  "Better you than me. I can't stand that old bat, and I'm sure the feeling's mutual."

  "I'm not too keen on her myself."

  DeeDee grimaced. "She always liked you better than me. Every time I saw her, all she did was tell me I was lazy and needed to get some backbone."

  Mary's lips twitched. No wonder DeeDee disliked Elizavon. The woman had a knack for telling the truth without glossing it over. She loved DeeDee, but had to agree with Elizavon's assessment of her character. Most of the time DeeDee was kind and generous, but she'd been known to be selfish and lazy when it suited her. Take her injury, for example. She'd been on disability for four months, and planned to stay on it until they cut off her checks. DeeDee was a brilliant landscape artist, but only worked when she needed the money, or a particular project suited her.

  Mary shuddered as she realized the path her thoughts were taking, and hoped she wasn't turning into the same kind of shrew as Elizavon. She dragged her thoughts back to the present and gathered the pages into a neat pile. "I'm almost finished. Are you hungry?"

  DeeDee yawned. "Not really. Why aren't you at work?"

  "Snow day. Fourteen inches since midnight. You'll have to stay here until the roads clear."

  "What are we supposed to do for fun?" DeeDee asked.

  "Well, you could call the realtor and ask him to fax the appraisal and tourism information."

  "Why should I do that?"

  Mary tossed a pillow at her. "Because if you don't, I'm going to drag you with me when I go see Aunt Elizavon."

  DeeDee held up her hands. "You win. When do you want me to call?"

  "How about after you grab a cup of coffee?"

  DeeDee sighed dramatically. "I'll call him, but I'm not doing anything else. I mean it."

  Mary smiled. "You'll need to give him my fax number." She held out the number on a piece of paper.

  DeeDee snatched it. "You know, you've got a one track mind. It's starting to get on my nerves."

  Mary checked the fax for paper while DeeDee made the call. All she needed to complete the proposal was the realtor's information. DeeDee ended the call, and moments later the fax indicator rang. Mary switched it on and watched pages pile up in the output tray. The quick reply told her the realtor must be anxious to sell. Was she the only bite he'd had? If so, she was in a better bargaining position than she'd hoped. She turned off the fax and returned to the living room.

  DeeDee grinned and held up the address book. "So, you going to call our dear old auntie now?"

  She plucked the address book from DeeDee's fingers. "You're getting way too much enjoyment out of this."

  DeeDee's smirk widened. "It's not often I get the chance to see you squirm."

  Mary frowned and stared at the book in her hand. "Now's as good a time as any, I suppose." She took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."

  She was surprised when Elizavon answered the phone instead of a maid. "Aunt Elizavon, it's Mary."

  "Who?"

  "Mary Corbett, your niece. How are you?"

  There was a slight pause. "What do you want?" the raspy voice snarled.

  Mary's spirits sank. The old bat wasn't going to make it easy. "I called to see if you'd be interested in a business proposition. It's for a bed and breakfast plantation in Louisiana. Can I make an appointment to see you sometime this week?"

  Silence. Then, "Be here tomorrow at ten."

  She couldn't miss the staff meeting tomorrow. Mac would be furious. She took a chance. "I work until five. Can we meet at five-thirty?"

  "Well, at least you have a job. It's about time somebody in this family worked for a living besides me."

  Mary struggled to keep her voice level. "Thank you, Aunt Elizavon. I'll see you tomorrow at five-thirty."

  "Don't be late, because if you are, the guards won't let you in. You can have thirty minutes of my time. After that, my maid will show you out."

  The line went dead, and Mary let out the breath she'd been holding. "I'm glad that's over."

  DeeDee wandered over to the window, lifted one of the heavy drapes, and watched snowflakes drift against the windowpane. "Let me guess. She's still hates my guts, right?"

  Mary shrugged. "She didn't even ask about you. I bet she only agreed to see me so she could throw my proposal back in my face."

  DeeDee turned from the window. "I know they call her the 'Wicked Witch of Wall Street', but did she really get all her money from the stock market?"

  Mary nodded. "Mom told me she started out with nothing, and fought and scratched for every dime she's got. Every time she made money on her stocks, she reinvested it. I think I read somewhere that her assets exceed five million dollars."

  DeeDee's eyes widened. "How can you make that much money in stocks and bonds? I'll bet she's got somebody on the inside."

  Mary shrugged. "Don't know, don't care." She paused, and a frown etched her face as she chewed her lip. "In a way, I feel sorry for her. She has no friends, no children. We're the
only family she has, and except for Mom and Dad's funeral, we haven't seen her in years. What a miserable existence."

  DeeDee examined the polish on her nails. "I don't feel sorry for her. I only wish I had her money. If I did, I'd travel all over the world, lead a life of ease, and surround myself with furs, jewelry, and well-toned house boys in tight pants." She lifted her glance to Mary. "What would you do?"

  "Probably donate most of it to worthy causes." She stood up. "However, since we don't have her kind of money, I'm not going to worry about it."

  DeeDee shrugged and picked up the remote control. "It's almost time for my soaps and I don't want to be interrupted while they're on. Don't you have something to do?"

  Mary's frown deepened and she folded her hands across her chest. "Is that an order or a request? Before you answer that, I'd remember this isn't your house. I give the orders here, not you."

  DeeDee waved the remote. "Sorry. May I please watch my soap opera shows on your television?"

  She glanced at her watch. "Go ahead. I need to finish my proposal." She stood in the doorway between the two rooms. "The roads should be clear later this afternoon. Let me know when you're ready to go home."

  The streets weren't cleared until after midnight, and by the time Mary dropped DeeDee off early the next morning, she was glad they lived in separate houses. DeeDee was a great kid, but only in small doses. She slowed her car to a crawl as she drove over icy roads, and breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled into the office parking lot.

  The weekly staff meeting started later than usual, and lasted two full hours. Once it was over, she worked through lunch so she could leave a few minutes early for her meeting with Elizavon. She didn't dare be late.

  Her mouth felt like cotton and her heart pounded as she drove her Toyota Corolla® though the stately homes in Beacon Hill. She felt a rush of adrenaline when she saw Elizavon's address carved into a stone wall. She pulled into the iron-gated entry and waited. Surely Elizavon's security people knew about their meeting. The gates remained closed and she got out of the car. There had to be an intercom system. Elizavon was too shrewd not to have guards watching every conceivable entry and exit. She looked around and spotted a large white button on one of the stone columns. She pressed it and waited. A quick look at her watch confirmed she was still twenty minutes early.