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As I eat my room service oatmeal, I reflect on the newly unified front. Does Ashlyn still hate her mom? I don’t see it anymore. I mean, Kate seems so, I don’t know the word, boring? So in control. When John told me he and Kate had never had sex at the office after building a company together, I was in shock. Who doesn’t do it on the conference room table when you own the whole place?
And then, just when we’d begun to enjoy our new life, really settle into a routine, he started drifting away from me.
Unbelievable. Disappointing. You can understand my anger with this situation now, I’m sure. I let my guard down, that’s what I did, and Kate the rat slipped back into his life.
I place my bowl of unfinished oatmeal on the room service tray and consider my next move. I have nothing but time as I wait for John’s body to be cremated so we can fly home.
It’s time to make an important call. I pull up Uncle George’s contact, and he answers immediately. I knew he would. We’ve been spending a good amount of time together recently—on the phone and in person. We go way back. It is too bad Uncle George wasn’t interestedin helping me when I was a kid and being abused by my mom and her lovers. I suppose some of his overt interest in my affairs now is due to that negligence. Or maybe he just smells money? I guess that’s what all lawyers are good at: following the money.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, honey?” George’s slow drawl pulls out the last word like taffy. I imagine he’s in sweatpants and a size XXL sweatshirt with the Cincinnati Bengals logo printed on it, even though they never win, and nobody cares. He told me he doesn’t get dressed up for any client but me.
I sniff. Tears pop into my eyes. I did love John. I do still. “It’s John. He’s died.” And then the waterworks won’t stop. I think of John’s body on some slablike table, somewhere in town, waiting to be burned.
“I know. Saw it in the news. No need for tears. It’s all buttoned up, honey. We took care of it all when I was in town, remember? I know you liked him a lot, but now, you can move on. You’ll have all that money, everything you need. All the t’s are crossed, all the i’s are dotted, as they say.” I hear George sigh and take a sip of something. The sounds of clinking ice cubes and a slow slurp fill my ear. I put the phone down and put it on speaker.
“You’re right. I am fine, money wise.” I blow my nose and look around the penthouse suite. I can stay in hotel rooms like this every day for the rest of my life if I’d like. There is so much I can do now with all I’ll be inheriting.
“Even so, you should be careful. The IPO is fresh. You don’t want to upset the investors. You want them to think everything at the company can run just fine without John. Get it? It’s called a controlled company—you and John controlled fifty percent; his ex-wife the other fifty percent. Now, with what’s happened, you have sole control of his fifty percent. But you’re going to need to be sharp.”
I stretch and touch my toes. “Yes, I know.” George has taught me a thing or two—about business and life. And he’s discreet. He didn’t even ask me what really happened to John.
“There will be a lot of sharks in the water. Make sure you keep yourself on solid ground. You’re going to be on the cover of some big working women’s magazine, I just know it.” Mixed analogies aside, a shiver of dread runs down my spine.
“Should I be worried about anything?”
“No. Right now, everything is handled,” George says.
I take a deep breath. I imagine Ashlyn and I will grow closer again. I’ll be the fabulous, young, rich co-CEO of EventCo. One of the city’s top businesswomen. As for Kate, I don’t really care what happens to her, do I? I mean sure, she’ll still own half the company and will be co-CEO for a bit, but maybe I’ll figure out a way to take that, too. She’ll be heartbroken, too sad to come into the office, perhaps. It’s all a dream come true.
I pull myself out of my daydream and remember George is on the phone. “OK, well thanks. For everything.”
George chuckles. “Sure thing. But remember, blood is thicker than water in times like this, sugar.”
He said the same phrase when he came up to Columbus a week and a half ago. It’s annoying, especially if you’re a person like me without any relatives—except George, that is.
“We’ll see. We’ll see.” I am drumming my fingers on the sleek sofa table by the door. I’m feeling a bit trapped, even in this large suite. I needed George to represent me and make sure I’m covered legally. But all my life I’ve made a point of never relying on anyone, so this role isn’t comfortable.
“Do you need me to come help you? Where are you anyway?” George doesn’t believe in social media, so he has missed my posts featuring the beautiful meadow, our romantic lunch, the rustic beauty of this mountain town.
“Telluride. And no, I don’t need your help. His body will be cremated as soon as I get the death certificate.” The last thing I need is George here.
“Oh goodness. Are you sure you want to do that? There? It might not look good for you, you know?” he asks. He’s pretending his proper fundamentalist Christian cockles won’t approve of cremation.
“Fire and brimstone, George. Ashes to ashes. You know.” I add, “I’ve got things handled here. The memorial service is next Saturday. Why don’t you come?”
“I’ll be there. Whatever you need,” he says before we hang up.
As the only person from my past I trust, I need to keep him on my good side. He didn’t help with what happened at home, but he told me I’d be fine once I got out of my hometown. Out of my home. And he was right. And despite his slow southern drawl and meandering walking pace, he’s a cutthroat attorney. No doubt he’ll be the only one on my side in the entire room. Sort of the way my life has always been.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Mrs.Nelson? It’s Curtis, over here at the funeral home. They expedited your husband’s death certificate once you called and told them who he was. I didn’t know he was a famous man. Got celebrity treatment from the coroner.”
I sniff. “He was.” I didn’t make that call. I suppose Lance had someone handle it.
“Everything is as it should be. We can go ahead with the cremation then, all right?” Curtis sounds at once impressed by John and sort of sad to be burning up his body.
“Yes, please do. Thank you.” The call ends, and my heart pounds in my chest. I tell myself this is the storm before the calm, something I’d promise myself often as a kid. Right now, John’s body is being burned.
