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All I want is to be speeding back to New York right now, but my curiosity gets the better of me. Maybe she knows why C.J. left me the money and would be willing to tell me if we’re alone.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
She slides out of the car without even giving the driver a chance to open the door. Now wearing a crisp black trench coat over her outfit, she flicks the back of her hand toward a cluster of tables outside a café a few yards down the sidewalk. “Why don’t we sit over there for a minute?”
She strides toward an empty table, her posture stick-straight,and I follow. We take seats across from each other beneath an open blue umbrella. In the natural light, she looks even better, and though her skin is slightly waffled just beneath her eyes, it’s otherwise as smooth as porcelain.
“I saw my daughter-in-law go into the building,” Caroline says, her voice even. “Did she confront you?”
“Yes. She-she called me a tramp and said I hadn’t seen the last of her.”
Caroline chuckles, a deep and throaty sound. “Ah, poor Jane, she’s never had much of a gift for words. Unfortunately, Chris was so dazzled early on by her self-possession and those too-big eyes, it took him years to notice she wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier.”
“And... she didn’t love him? You said in the conference room that—”
She shakes her head. “No, she didn’t love him. Or if she did, she had a funny way of showing it.”
“But your son stayed with her.”
“When children are involved, parents often let their personal needs take a back seat. Chris was fiercely devoted to his kids.”
How awful to have died in a loveless marriage and how alone her son must have felt toward the end of his. More questions run through my mind: Is that why he passed the trust to me? Was it his way of connecting, spreading goodwill to another person as he faced his mortality? Could he have kept track of me all these years, known I was a struggling artist?
“Do you think she meant what she said? That I haven’t seen the last of her?”
She cocks her head, considering. “There’s a chance she’ll try to come after the money—Jane isn’t one to take no for an answer—but she doesn’t have any grounds. Chris was very ill when he appointed the trust to you, but his mind was clear. And besides, she’ll be fine financially. She’s inheriting all the joint assets—an expensive home,the stock portfolio, Chris’s pension. The only thing she doesn’t have now is the padding the trust would have provided, a way to pay for some of life’s little extras.”
Life’s littleextras.I wonder what Caroline would think if she knew the main thing I planned to do with the money.
A waiter approaches with two menus, but Caroline raises a hand to stop him. “Thank you, but I don’t think we’ll be staying. Can you give us a minute, however?”
He nods and retreats. There are only so many women in the universe who can pull off a trick like that: taking a prime seat at a restaurant table with no intention of ordering even an iced tea.
“What about your grandchildren?” I ask. “I think they might have been in the lobby, too.”
“Yes, that was Mark and Bee.” She pauses, as if gathering her words. “I’m sure they’re annoyed about this wrinkle, but they’ll be fine, too. They graduate from college in May, and Chris set up trusts that can be used for graduate school if they decide to attend. And one day, of course, they’ll inherit from me.”
Yeah, but still, it’s over three million dollars that’snotgoing into their bank accounts. Plus, they have to be wondering what my relationship with their father was, and that can’t be much fun.
The sun has ducked behind a cloud, and I pull my sweater coat more tightly around me. This is all so awkward, sitting here with the grieving mother of a man I had a one-night stand with. But I can’t leave without finding out if she knows the reason for the bequest—and so far she hasn’t seemed inclined to volunteer it.
I take a deep breath and try to meet Caroline Whaley’s eyes.
“Bradley Kane said he doesn’t know why your son left me the money. Do you?”
She shrugs, lifting her Burberry-clad shoulders. “As I told you earlier, you must have meant something to him.”
“But he never said anything to you?” I ask, realizing the pleading has returned to my tone. “Something that would help me understand this better?”
She shakes her head softly, then purses her lips, which are still perfectly red without a smudge in sight. “He did inform me before he passed that he wasn’t assigning the trust to Jane or the kids and that he’d asked Bradley Kane to include me in the meeting with the beneficiary. But sadly, my son and I weren’t as close as I would have liked, and that was all I could find out.”
Her answer sounds authentic, but I have no idea whether I should buy it. Having run her own business for years, she must be practiced at only revealing what she wants people to know.
“Okay, thank you,” I say, shifting restlessly in the chair. I’m not sure what she’s getting out of talking to me, but I need to hightail it to the station so I can deliver my last collage to the gallery before five. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Whaley, but I can’t stay any longer.”
“Caroline, please.”
“Caroline.”
