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Now here we were almost seven years later, Jeremy in his Gucci shoes, and me in my million-dollar house in the most exclusive area of Southport. At least my success helped to soothe the burn of my collapsed marriage somewhat.
Jeremy tapped my desk with his foot. “Also, that historical group has been calling again about having the wall outside painted for the town’s bicentennial. I give no shits about any of that crap, but I guess it’s good to be part of the community and all. I know you’re on the committee or whatever, so it’s all on you. I just don’t want painters traipsing crap through the place.”
I sighed in annoyance. The headache that had been duly pounding away at my skull since Chelsea’s unexpected visit had morphed into a marching band inside my head. I had enough on my plate without worrying about community shit. But Jeremy was right, it was important we do our part. It was good for business. I hadn’t expected the Bicentennial Committee to take up so much of my time when I joined and was eventually elected president. I thought it could be a feather in my cap, showing my town pride.
Little did I know that Marla Delacroix, the 70-year-old dictator of Southport events, expected nothing less than my kidney. And maybe my first-born child.
“Sure, I’ll call Marla,” I said, grimacing, already dreading the conversation with Southport’s version of the Iron Lady.
“See ya later. Let me know how you get on with Taylor.” Jeremy grabbed a handful of Reese’s Pieces that I kept on my desk, popping one into his mouth. “I have court this afternoon, but we can talk after that.”
“Sure,” I agreed, pulling the candy dish out of his reach. No one touched my Reese’s Pieces.
After Jeremy left, I started working on the deposition I had been putting off for the last few days. I quickly got bogged down, barely realizing an hour had passed when Lena appeared with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Here.” She handed me the mug, which I took it gratefully, drinking half of it in one go, not caring that it scalded my tongue.
“You looked as if you needed the caffeine,” she observed, sipping her own.
“You’re the best,” I told her with a smile, drinking the rest.
“And don’t you forget it.” She picked up the Taylor file and looked through it. “So, I was talking to Mom last night…”
“Thanks for the update, Lena.” I had already turned my attention back to the deposition. “Not to be rude, but I have to finish this up before heading to the precinct—”
“She told me June came over on Monday for lunch, and they went out to pick up some furniture.”
I stilled slightly as I always did at the mention of June Galloway, Mom’s best friend. I had always loved June like a second mother, but things had changed since my senior year in high school.
Since June’s daughter, my former best friend decided she hated me.
And even though June never treated me any differently, I always felt awkward around her. Guilty even. Though I suspected Meg, like me, didn’t tell her mother what had really happened between us.
There were some things it was best to keep between us.
“Okay…that’s great.” I sat back in my chair, wishing Lena would get to the point already. But she seemed strangely reticent. It was completely out of character for my no filter, in-your-face sister.
Lena chewed her bottom lip. “You know June’s been having a rough time since David died.”
“I’m sure. It was a shock when David passed. No one saw it coming,” I agreed. June’s husband, David, had died of a cardiac arrest last spring. He played racquetball with my dad the day before and had seemed fine.
David had always seemed invincible. He had a head of thick red hair, the same shade as his two daughters, with hardly any grey. He ran five miles every morning before going to work at the county administrator’s office. The man had still been able to run me ragged on the basketball court. David Galloway had seemed the least likely person in the world to die of a heart attack.
David’s funeral had been standing room only. He was a beloved member of the Southport community, and his passing hit a lot of people hard. Particularly his youngest daughter, who he had been especially close to.
I had wanted to approach Meg and express my condolences, but she took one look at me with Chelsea and turned the other way, never giving me a chance to say anything.
I hated that she was hurting, and I could do nothing to help her, mostly because she’d never accept my support.
I was persona non grata in Meg Galloway’s life.
“Dr. Walton’s office has cut her hours, and she’s struggling to make ends meet,” Lena went on.
