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Assholes.
She slipped her arm into the handles of her white crocodile Birkin bag. A birthday present from Marshall that sat on the top shelf of her walk-in closet for the last decade. She stood, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her skirt.
“If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I find I need to freshen up a bit after that shitshow.” She moved toward the door and turned, seeing all three sets of eyes zeroed in on her backside. “Try not to fight over the spoils while I’m gone.”
* * *
Pushingthrough the paneled door of the ladies’ room, Birdie leaned over the sink to catch her breath and determine next steps.
This could not be happening.
They had systematically taken away Mia’s and her future. The small inheritance Marshall had left their daughter would barely cover college expenses. Marshall, likely having assumed, that it would be a nest egg for later, post graduation. His estate easily providing a home, education, and a future free from financial stress.
Bowing her head, she thought through her options. She would figure it out. She always did. She and Mia had been destitute before, they could do it again.
She closed her eyes. God, how she missed her husband.
He was the first person in her life to willingly make her and Mia a priority. To come to her defense and to protect her, no matter the cost.
She missed his strong arms that held her and made everything okay and how he was always ten steps ahead of his sons and ex-wife. Even laughed at their cartoonish attempts to best him. He was the consummate protector. Always looking out for her and Mia. And together, they looked out for Pearl.
Her head reared up as she stared at her reflection.
Omigod, Pearl.
Rubbing her temples, she fought back the desire to call and check on her. It had been a few weeks since her last visit. She should have checked on her sooner, but so much had been going on.
Marshall had maintained Pearl’s anonymity for years with layers of security that few could afford and fewer could unravel. As far as anyone knew, Pearl was in Florida, nursing a broken heart and therefore no longer someone to threaten or leverage.
Breathe, Birdie.
Everything was okay. Pearl was fine. Marshall made all the necessary arrangements.
Then again, he had supposedly done the same for her and Mia.
She took another breath.
Wrapping her arms around her stomach, her breath evened out, assuring herself Pearl was safe and sound and completely inaccessible and promising to visit her that weekend.
She straightened her back and exhaled just as the door to the ladies’ room opened and Errol stepped inside. He leaned against the paneled wood frame with his hands in his pockets and a gleam in his eye, acting as if he owned the place.
Hell, after today he probably did.
“All evidence to the contrary, you’re a man and this is the ladies’ room,Earl.”
“Always acting all high and mighty aren’t we, Birdie? When in reality, you’re nothing more than the excrement on the bottom of my shoe.”
She turned on the water to wash her hands. “If that’s the case, I recommend you watch where you’re stepping.”
He crossed his arms over his chest with an evil, victorious grin on his face. “My offer still stands. You have the means to make this all go away.”
She chuckled and shook her head at the reminder of the illicit offer he had made during the funeral, where he had, once again, cornered her in the ladies’ room.
“Threatening widows is low even for you, Earl.”
Ignoring her insults he continued, “Marry me, and you get everything my father ever promised you and more.”
She turned and leaned against the granite edge of the sink. “Wouldn’t your brother and jackal of a mother take exception to that?”
