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“Reporters are camped outside my condo. I cant face them. ” Noras gaze lowered, and Ruby saw how hard it was for her mother to face her, too. The past was between them again, a sticky web that caught old hurts and held them. “Your sister offered me use of the summer house. If you want to change your mind, Ill understand. ”
Ruby went to the window and stared out at the gray, rainy streets of Capitol Hill.
It had seemed doable a few moments ago; go to this womans house--Noras house, not really her mother at all-sit with her for a few days, make a few meals. look through a few old photo albums, ask a few questions. Get enough information to write the “where Nora Bridge came from” section of the article.
But . . . at the summer house.
It was where so many of the memories were buried, both good and bad. She would rather see Nora in some glass-walled high-rise that success had purchased. Not in the clapboard farmhouse where Ruby would remember gardening and painting and the sound of laughter that had long since faded.
Fifty thousand dollars.
Thats what she had to think about. She could handle a week at the summer house.
"I guess it doesnt matter where we are . . .
“You mean it?” There was a disturbing wistfulness in her mothers voice.
Finally, Ruby turned. She meant to close the distance between them, but her feet wouldnt move.
“Sure. Why not?”
Nora was looking at her thoughtfully. She said, “Youll need to rent me a wheelchair-just until my wrist is strong enough
for crutches. And Ill need a few things from my apartment. ”
“I can do that. ”
“Ill talk to my doctor and get checked out of here. Well have to leave quietly, through the back way, maybe. We dont want to be followed. ”
“Ill rent a car and pick you up in--what-three hours?”
“Okay. My purse is in the closet. Get my credit cards. Use the platinum Visa for anything you need. Ill draw you a map to my apartment and call Ken--hes the doorman. Hell let you in. And Ruby . . . get a nice car; okay?”
Ruby tried to smile. This was going to be bad. Her mother was already making demands--and judgments. “Only the best for you, Nora. ” She went to the closet, saw the expensive black hand bag, and grabbed it. The wide strap settled comfortably on her shoulder. Without a backward glance, she headed out.
Her mothers voice stopped her. “Ruby? Thank you. ”
Ruby shut the door behind her.
Chapter Six
Ruby walked into her mothers penthouse condominium and closed the door behind her. The place was eerily silent and smelled faintly of flowers.
She dropped her jacket onto the gleaming marble floor; beside an ornate wrought-iron and stone that held a huge urn full of roses.
She turned the corner and literally had to catch her breath. It was the most incredible room shed ever seen.
A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the whole apartment, showcasing a panoramic view of Elliot Bay.
The floors were polished marble, a color somewhere between white and gold, with twisting black and green threads running through each square.
Brocade-covered furniture, perched on gilded legs, sat in a cluster in the living room around a beautiful gold and glass coffee table. In one corner stood an ebony Steinway, its lacquered top cluttered with photographs in gilt-edged frames.
A dimly lit hallway led past several more rooms-formal dining room, gourmet kitchen, home office--and ended at the master bedroom. Here, the windows were dressed in steel-gray silk curtains that matched the woven cashmere bedspread. There were two huge walk-in closets. She opened the first one, and a light came on automatically, revealing two rows of clothes, organized by color.
Rubys fingers drifted through the clothing. Silks, cashmeres, expensive woolens. She saw the labels: St. John, Armani, Donna Karan, Escada.
She released her breath in an envious sigh. The thought This is what she left us for winged through her mind, hurting more than she would have expected. She pulled the list out of her pocket.
