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I used to only see him as an annoyance, someone who managed to say the worst things at the worst times… but now, I’ve realized that he might have been one of the only people who truly saw me. It never failed, every anniversary party, I would sneak off once I got overwhelmed with the talking and the pleasantries and he would find me. Sure, we usually threw a few jabs at each other and he would say something wildly inappropriate, but he would also let me vent. I felt bad for being salty about a ridiculously gorgeous and expensive party thrown in my honor every year but at the same time, I longed for an intimate celebration with my husband. Just us, dinner at home or out at our favorite restaurant followed by drinks and dancing in our living room. But every year, I celebrated the most joyous moment of my life with dozens of other people. When I would slip and rant about it to him, he would agree and while he couldn’t fully understand, he tried to. He never made me feel bad for wanting something different than Dane.
I let out a long sigh, sad I only have two more nights in Italy before I head home, but at the same time, I’m excited to go home with my newfound confidence. I have plans to work with the board at Ashford Enterprises and make sure that the business is in good standing. I plan to liquidate what I must to pay his debts and then sell my shares and walk away from the business. I have no interest in running it, but I do have an interest in my father’s company. Something I want to pitch to Mads once I’m back home… along with another idea that I cannot get out of my head.
“Piero! Join me!” I wave toward him, and he walks up the hill, smiling.
“Aw,signora, too beautiful to drink alone,” he says in his thick accent.
“Well, that’s why I need a handsome Italian man to drink with me.” He tosses his head back and laughs, slapping his knee as he takes a seat in the chair across from me.
I grab a bottle of red wine and some cheese and grapes with bread, and we sit together, talking and enjoying our aperitif before he heads home for the evening.
* * *
“What are you going to do with all these clothes, Mrs. Ashford?” Tilly walks into my closet with a concerned look on her face as she eyes a large pile of clothes that’s still growing in the middle of the room.
“I’m going to donate them.”
“All of them?” She pulls a sweater from the pile, running her hands over the warm cashmere before looking up at me in disbelief.
“All of them,” I reassure her. “You are more than welcome to take anything you’d like.”
“Oh, these are all so expensive. I don’t think I’d ever need a reason to wear cashmere.” She runs the fabric against her cheek.
“You don’tneeda reason to wear cashmere, Tilly. Just wear it if it makes you happy.”
“Okay,” she says with a smile. “I’ll keep this sweater, but just this one.” She stares down at the navy-blue material, holding it tight against her body before looking back up at me. “Are you okay, Mrs. Ashford?”
I pause, a silk blouse in my hands. “I’m not sure yet, Tilly. Honestly, I’m probably not okay, but I know that eventually I will be. How are you doing? You holding up okay?”
While Andy and Tilly weren’t here when Dane died, still to have your boss unexpectedly end his life in his own home where you work every day has to be extremely hard to deal with.
“I’m okay, Mrs. Ashford. I’m sad but mostly for you.” I reach my hands out and squeeze hers, but she pulls me in for a hug. “I know I’m not your mother, dear, but I hate seeing you so sad. Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
“I am.” I rub her back, letting the hug linger. It feels so nice. “I promise.”
The next morning, I wake early. I have two things on my agenda today. To go shopping and to meet with the board of directors at Ashford Enterprises. And then tonight, I’m going to The Scarlett Letter to tell Mads my proposition.
* * *
Irun my fingers over the silk material of the dress I picked out today. The bright Barbie pink material shimmers under my closet lights. It’s bold, the sweetheart neckline cutting low between my breasts and a slit that runs almost all the way up my thigh. I never wore pink when I was with Dane. He mentioned to me once that red clashed with pink and I took that as a mental note to never wear it.
The rest of the clothes are still in bags strewn around my room; some are still being shipped to my house from the store. It felt like a totalPretty Womanmoment as I went from boutique to boutique, picking out my new wardrobe.
I pick out a pair of heels to go with my dress before walking over to my jewelry cabinet. I stare down at the pieces; many were heirlooms handed down to me from my mother and grandmother, but the pieces front and center are the ones that Dane bought me over the years for our anniversary.
My fingers dance across the delicate diamonds of the daisy necklace he bought me this year. Something about these pieces made me not want to get rid of them. I contemplated it when I was donating my clothes, but these pieces are so… me. I guess that’s one thing about Dane that wasn’t a lie; he knew me well enough to choose pieces he knew I would love. I opt for only the earrings tonight since I plan to wear my hair down.
I look at myself nervously in the mirror, butterflies dancing through my stomach. I’m nervous and excited, but mostly nervous. I let out a shaky breath, turning slowly to give myself one last look before making my way to The Scarlett Letter.
After parking my car, I contemplate calling Mads first. I left the burner phone at home, but I can still call to see if he’s here on my regular phone. I decide against it, realizing he very well could talk me out of coming inside. I slip my phone into my clutch and exit my car, making my way across the street to the entrance.
“Is Mads here?” I smile at Ricky who’s already approaching me with his hand outstretched.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Mrs. Ashford.”
“It’s Emery and you didn’t answer my question.”
“He’s not here, no.”
