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Finally, Amalia says, “To be honest, it shattered me to watch poor Reed’s world come crashing down the way it did.”
I continue chopping methodically, even though my mind is reeling. Is that a reference to Reed’s father’s arrest and conviction? Or a reference to whatever happened to Reed’s mother when he was nine? “Yeah, from what Reed told me,” I say, “it seems like everything was extremely difficult for him.” What “everything” am I talking about? Honestly, I have no idea.
“I just felt so powerless to do anything to help him,” Amalia laments. “And then his father was arrested, only a few short years later, and I thought, ‘Oh my gosh. How much can that poor boy take?’”
“You did everything you could,” I say vaguely, even though I still don’t have a clue what we’re talking about. “Reed knows that.”
Amalia exhales deeply and stops what she’s doing at the stove, so I stop chopping and give her my undivided attention.
“I tried to take him in when his father went to prison,” she says. “But the judge said I wasn’t a relative, so I couldn’t have him. It broke my heart to watch him get sent to live with some distant relative he barely knew, rather than with me. I wanted to be the one to take him because I loved him like my own. I truly did.” She wipes her eyes with her apron. “I still do.”
Well, this is new information. When Reed’s father was arrested, Reed was sent to live with a distant relative? Why? Where was Reed’s mother... or his stepmother, if that’s who the happy woman in Scarsdale is? Oh, God, I’m so confused. I move around to Amalia on the other side of the island, and put my hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure Reed knows you did your best, Amalia.”
Amalia shakes her head. “I cried when I couldn’t get custody of him. I cried for myself and for Reed, and for his poor mother, too. Of course, I would have preferred his mother could have taken care of him, but that simply wasn’t possible. Truly, it was just a tragedy, all around, for all of us.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t be here with Reed now, all these years later, if he felt anything but love and gratitude toward you.”
“Thank you. I only want the best for him.”
“Of course, you do. I think that’s what Reed appreciates about his relationship with you. How uncomplicated it is. When he told me about his mother... and her life in Scarsdale...” I trail off, not sure how to complete the sentence. What the hell are we talking about?
“Yes, I know Reed wishes she’d agree to transfer to the facility in Malibu. But she won’t leave the one in Scarsdale.”
And there it is. Finally. The truth. The word that explains that tightness I thought I saw on Reed’s face last night when he talked about his mother’s happy, perfect life in Scarsdale with her boyfriend, Lee. Facility. As in mental facility?
“Yes, exactly,” I say calmly, even though my synapses are exploding. “He said he gets out there to visit as much as he can, but I’m sure it would be easier if she’d transfer to the facility in Malibu.”
“Of course, it would. I’m sure it hurts Reed, more than he lets on, that she won’t move to a facility closer to him, so he can spend more time with her and take care of her the way he wants to do.” She looks toward the door of the kitchen, and then back at me. “I’m not surprised Eleanor won’t move closer, honestly. She never put her boys first, right from the start. That was the hardest thing for me to watch, as their nanny. A mother should always put her children first, whether she’s got a nanny or not.”
Holy fuck burgers. My brain is whirring and clacking now, deftly processing the shreds of new information Amalia just supplied to me. Eleanor. Note to self: gather every bit of information you can on Eleanor Rivers of Scarsdale. Boys. Plural. Amalia said Eleanor never put the boys first. And that Amalia was “their” nanny. But Reed didn’t mention he has a brother. Only a sister. And I don’t think Wikipedia mentioned a brother.
I put down my knife, every molecule of my skin buzzing. “Hey, Amalia. I’m sorry. I just remembered I have to research something for one of the articles I’m writing. I’m sorry to ditch my duties as your sous chef, but—”
“Go, go. This is my job, not yours. Thank you for the conversation. I’ve wanted to talk to someone about these things for a very long time.” She smiles kindly. “You’re absolutely lovely, Georgie. It’s no wonder Reed is so taken with you.”
My heart squeezes. “Thank you. It’s no wonder Reed loves you so much. I’m looking forward to cooking and chatting with you a lot this summer.”
