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Then he sighed, sat back and gazed at an urn overflowing with some dense foliage that was green as well as purple. He had no idea what it was, but he was proud as hell that Sah could walk out and tell him.
“After your performance yesterday morning, I’ve decided I’m changing my will. I’m leaving everything to Yves,” she announced.
“Fine,” Remy replied.
“I know you think it isn’t much, but no matter how dire our straits became, Mother closely guarded the Cormier jewels. They’re worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. And there are other heirlooms that do not belong to your father. Sculpture. Paintings.”
“Mom, I make a shit ton of money. I have a waiting list that’s two years long for clients to get the opportunity to access my personal designs. I employ thirty people. I have a wife who loves me enough to forgive me for doing something unforgiveable, and three smart, healthy, funny, kind, beautiful children. I’m rich. I couldn’t care less about jewels and paintings.”
“You’re an artist, and you don’t care about art?”
Remy dropped his head.
There it was.
She never changed.
This was going to be it.
This was going to be his last real conversation with his mom.
Fuck, he never should have walked out into that garden.
Then again, if he hadn’t, he would have had yesterday’s events as his final moments with his mother. This hadn’t gone well, but at least it wasn’t as bad as that.
The story of his relationship with his mom.
Since there was nothing for it, he lifted his head.
And to the urn, he used a tactic that had worked before. It hadn’t worked perfectly, but it had worked.
“I’ve spoken with Melly. I’ll be arranging to pay her an additional salary. I’ve asked her to keep a close eye and report to me not only if you ever harm Dad physically again, but if it verbally turns ugly as well. She’s agreed to do this for us. She knows I’m informing you of this, and she’s agreed to that as well. I’ll also be asking Beau and Jason to drop in and make sure Dad is safe. You had all the chances you’re going to get. The minute I hear you’ve harmed him, as I said yesterday, I’m flying out, collecting you, and you’ll spend your final days in the desert with me and Wyn. This is not negotiable.”
“You can’t kidnap me, Remy.”
No, he couldn’t.
“If you refuse to come, I’ll talk Dad into coming, and you’ll die alone.”
Silence followed that remark, so complete, he sensed she knew how serious he was about what he’d just said.
Good.
And they were done.
He stood and looked down at his mother who’d tipped her head back to look up at him, a dying woman with defiant eyes.
Her hair was perfect, as was her makeup, as was her outfit. She needed to put on about twenty pounds.
But she was beautiful.
She was eighty years old and dying, but still stunning.
For fifty-six years, she’d had an adoring husband, who was an inveterate philanderer.
But she’d traveled the world. She’d lived in the lap of luxury. She wore silks and furs as a matter of course. She had diamonds and she had pearls, and she had everything in between.
If she wanted it, it was given to her.
She also had a healthy son.
Wyn had always had exceptional, and expensive taste in clothes, even before it became her business.
Remy loved his wife and was interested in all she did, so he was aware that his mother was right then wearing approximately four thousand dollars in clothing, not including the makeup and jewelry. The latter probably tipped that scale at least another twenty K, perhaps just from her diamond watch.
She was wearing more than some people made in a year.
Colette’s husband had cheated on her, but from the moment he came into her life, she hadn’t had another care in the world that mattered.
She didn’t worry about paying a mortgage or health insurance or feeding herself or her son. She’d never held a job. And she knew about her husband’s serial infidelity, but it was her choice to stay with him.
She made that choice because of all of this.
There’d been bumps along the way that she’d handled very poorly, but that didn’t change the facts.
She was a beautiful woman who’d lived a beautiful life.
“I’m going to remember you like this,” he said quietly. “Not the empty part. Not the vicious part. Not the selfish part. Not the insensitive and heartless part. But how beautiful you are. How perfect you look sitting in this garden. That’s what I’m going to remember, Mom.”
He saw her lips quiver and then he saw her chin lift.
But she didn’t say a word.
Because she was Colette Louise Cormier Gastineau.
And she would never change.
Remy bent and kissed her cheek.
Then he turned, and not looking back, he walked away.
