Page 38 of Merging Wright

And right now, I need a plan.

“Talk later, okay, Mae?”

Mae sighs. “Sure. Talk later.”

+ + +

I don’t bother seeking Mach. I look for Camilla instead.

“I need a place to use as an office.”

“Anything you need, dove.” She beams a smile at me that could paint the sky in rainbows. I shouldn’t forgive her for her part in this farce we are playing, but I can’t help liking her. With her hands clasped before her, she stares at me with eyes that match her son’s, only hers are filled with hope. “My father had an office here.”

Her voice drops a little at the mention of her dad. Their father-daughter relationship isn’t something that’s been discussed. Other than Mach opening up to me on our wedding night, that’s all the information I have about Fischer and Camilla. My granddad came to the rescue of his daughter when her deadbeat husband left her with four children. Obviously, the situation between Camilla and Fischer was different. He’d ostracized his daughter. He hadn’t supported her family. And in the end, Fischer Wright hadn’t left her—or her brother—this town. Good ole Granpa gifted things to Mach. Leaving something so vital to the community to the family’s black sheep didn’t make sense.

“I’m so sorry again about the loss of your father. Were you close?” Mach has hinted they were outcasts, but the people I’d met during the funeral were more than sympathetic with Camilla. There’s no way an entire town could pretend the empathy expressed during the funeral service or the luncheon that followed. Most well-wishers were good-naturedly laughing with Camilla and making plans to see her at book club, knitting night, and a wine tasting festival.

“My father and I had a strained relationship.” Camilla hesitantly smiles. “But I forgave him. Living a life without forgiveness makes for a difficult path.”

I nod. “Myles and Mach appear to have a strained relationship as well.” Was I fishing for information? Absolutely. I needed some answers for what I was dealing with between the brothers.

“Ah. Another example of a bumpy road.” Camilla’s smile falters.

I’d love to ask for details, but this is something Mach should be the one telling me. It’s his story. I reach for her arm and squeeze. “Another time.” I don’t need all the answers in one day.

Camilla’s shoulders sink in relief. “I use the office for my things, but I’m happy to give it up to you. Or we can share it.” The hesitancy in her voice does not convince me sharing her space is her preference.

“How about the dining room table? I don’t want to continue to impose.” Considering the imposition Mach and I could be for a year, I add, “Mach and I should probably find a place of our own.”

Camilla’s frown turns upside down, and she’s back to beaming a full wattage rainbow of hope at me. “A place? Here? I know the perfect house.”

Oh boy. “Well, you can share that information with your son. In the meantime, I’m going to set up a few things in the dining room. Then I’m going to take a walk into town.”

Divide and conquer, Mach suggested.

“Mach said the meeting went well last night,” Camilla adds.

“What meeting?” I pause after taking a step away from her.

“He went to a planning meeting. City council president. Director of the business district. The mayor.”

I frown. “I thought he had a bachelor party.”

Camilla’s eyes widen. “Bachelor party? What does he need a bachelor party for? He’s been partying his entire life. Plus, he’s not a bachelor anymore.” Camilla pats my arm like I’m the virginal bride no longer with a precious seal intact.

“He didn’t mention the meeting,” I mutter. We haven’t exactly spoken.

Camilla dreamily smiles, glancing in the direction of the dining room. “The two of you at my dining room table will feel like old times.”

“Old times?” An unsettling brick slowly sinks to my belly before Camilla even explains.

“Yes, when Myles, Mach, and Tra—” She quietly gasps, and her fingertips cover her lips. “When the boys were young and had friends over to study. Now, you’re just bigger kids with more important work to complete.”

If my heart wasn’t so busy hammering, I’d ask about the person whose name she cut off, but somehow, I know it without needing an answer.

Mach’s wife sat at that table with him. She wasn’t just his first wife but a teenage sweetheart. The realization is one more splinter of my heart when I didn’t think it could be shattered any further.

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