Eyeing her as I pick up the dice, I watch her face for any expression that might indicate that she knows about his legal troubles. She doesn’t give anything away. Does she have any idea that her suite of rooms was likely paid for with money my father stole from his clients? My stomach churns from the few bites of sandwich. Howmany lives did he ruin to keep his mother-in-law in this place?
The game continues for a while with Nana making small talk by gossiping about the other residents and giving me a thorough list of all the friends who have stopped by lately.
“It’s odd,” she says with a cluck of her tongue. “I go weeks without a visitor and suddenly, I have five guests in a week. They all said they wanted to check in on me like I’m dying or something.”
She looks at me with sharp blue eyes. “Am I dying, Piper? If I am, just give it to me straight. I can’t stand the suspense.”
Oh, gosh, that makes my heart hurt even more. “Not yet, Nana. Not even close.”
Friends, indeed. I’m sure they stopped by to poke their noses in and see if they could gather any gossip direct from the source. On the flip side, my own friends have scattered like mice. None of my texts or calls have been returned and not a single one has reached out to me.
“Is your father in some sort of trouble?” Nana asks.
Shivers race down my back. So, she does suspect something at least. I smile.
“Just some legal hiccups with the business, Nana. Nothing he can’t handle.”
Her perfectly drawn eyebrows arch. “Hmm. That’s not usually true, is it? Your father isn’t good at handling problems. He’d rather buy a new yacht and sail away than deal with anything difficult.”
I don’t tell her that both yachts have already been confiscated.
Picking up a card, I run my fingers absently around the edge. The pit in my soul keeps getting wider and deeper. It’s slowly filling with fear. All I can picture is my father sailing away on his yacht, waving at us as he leaves us to deal with the consequences of his actions. Me, Nana, Mom. Penniless and alone.
Undesirable and on the street.
“Nana,” I burst before I can help myself. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, okay? I’m always going to be here to play Monopoly with you, right here in this room. Always.”
Pressing a hand to her chest, she grins. “Good. Because it’s your turn.”
God, my soul hurts but I’m going to cherish these moments with her. The way she studies the board, her brows furrowed in concentration, brings a smile to my face. Thoughts of my father's plans for an arranged marriage creep into my mind. Was he just anxious to wash his hands of me and make me some other man’s problem? What was he hoping to gain from it?
What couldIgain from it?
My brow dips at the thought. Women marry men out of convenience all the time. Older men, sugar daddies, all that. At the end of the day it’s just a kind of business transaction, isn’t it? You flirt and look nice and keep your man happy in bed, and the man keeps you well provided for. Trips, clothes, new cars, fancy hotels.
Assisted living rent.
Looking at my hands, I resist rubbing my cheeks as they grow hot. I don’t know anything about keeping a man happy in bed…but I could probably figure it out. What if my father wasn’t so far off with this insane idea? I might not be desirable in terms of my family’s wealth anymore, but I’m fully aware that I have the assets to pull off the trophy girlfriend thing if I wanted to.
I don’t want to, but maybe Ineedto.
Maybe it’s the way out.
An attendant comes in and announces it’s time for supper. I take that as my cue to give Nana a kiss and promise to be back in two days to finish the game.
It’s almost a three-hour train ride back to the borrowed house we’re staying at in the Hamptons, but at least it will give me time to think about my options.
Really, there is only one.
Waving at a yellow cab as I cross the parking lot, I catch movement from the corner of my eye. A popular fast-food restaurant sits to my left and a string of cars and white vans have lined up facing the entrance of the assisted living. I realize too late that it’s reporters and paparazzi. They suddenly swarm at me way too fast, snapping photos and bombarding me with questions. A circle of bodies traps me in, and the sudden melee has me frozen.
"How do you feel about the families your father destroyed?" one of them shouts, his voice filled with accusation.
“What role did you play in your father’s Ponzi scheme? Was your mother involved?”
My throat burns as the cucumber sandwich threatens to come back up. Shoving my way through the bodies, I burst free and run for the yellow cab. The reporters trail me as I yank the cab’s rear door open and tumble onto the seat, then slam the door and lock it.
“You okay?” the driver asks.
