“Week, maybe two. Definitely at the funeral.”
“Yes.” She takes another sip. “I don’t know where they would want to be buried. I doubt Marnie would want to spend eternity in Galilee. She didn’t like it here at all. Too dirty and loud. Though Rebecca and Daisy…should we separate them all? Maybe we should just have the funeral in Lake City.” She sips her drink. “And would they want to be buried or cremated? I just don’t know.”
“Maybe they had wills. Might be in there?”
“Perhaps.” She takes a final sip and stands up, going to the bar to fill up. “When will they release the bodies? They’ll have to autopsy them, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
She nods a little, no doubt to shake out the image of them lying on the autopsy table missing organs. “I’m forgetting my manners. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” I’m never touching that shit again if I can help it.
“The last time I had a drink in the afternoon was twenty years ago,” she says, pouring. “I had just been informed that I had inherited control of a seven billion dollar legacy and a thirteen-year-old boy I had only met five times before. If there was ever a time, right?” She sips. “As you may have figured out, I don’t like most people. I have no real use for them. I remember now why that is.” She walks back over to the window to watch the waves crash below. “Even after twenty years, I miss my old life. I was the head of the board at the Independence Museum of Art, you know. I made or broke exhibits. I went on archaeological digs all over the world. I even negotiated with the Louvre for a Monet. I had my cats, the occasional girlfriend, my committees, and I flew around the world on a whim. I never wanted to get married or, God forbid, have children. Freedom trumped all. It’s hard to get close to someone as fiercely independent as us. You know how that is.”
I nod. I’d say something, but my input doesn’t matter. I just have to listen.
“Then J.T. dies, and I’m responsible for a grieving child. Two total strangers stuck in a mausoleum. I had no idea what to say or do, and neither did he for that matter. He barely spoke the first few weeks beyond the polite pleasantries. I did the best I could. We soldiered on.”
“He loves you,” I say. “And he knows you were the one who was there for him when he really needed it. Even though you didn’t want to do it, you came. You raised him. Who knows where he’d be without you?”
She turns from the window with a small smile. “You’re good at this. It must make you an effective law enforcement officer. It’s a rare gift, knowing the exact right thing to say or do in a given situation.”
I scoff. “That is so not the case.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Joanna. I know it may seem that I never liked you. At first, I didn’t. He had enough on his plate without a suicidal teenager following him around like a lost puppy.” A sip. “Then, as time went on, I saw how good you were for him. You gave him what I couldn’t. A purpose. Affection. Someone who made him laugh. I never did thank you for that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“I’ve treated you badly. I’m a snob, and I know it. You’re uncouth, vulgar, and stubborn to a fault.” She scoffs. “And I see a lot of myself in you, if you can believe that. You have so much potential, and I hate to see it squandered. Though considering your upbringing, I’m amazed you’re as well adjusted as you are. A lesser person would be some type of addict, criminal, or emotional cripple. You should be proud of yourself.”
One out of three isn’t bad. “I am,” I lie.
“I do have a point to this ramble,” she says, stepping toward me. She sits in the chair next to me, back straight. “I know how you felt about Rebecca, because I know how you feel about Justin. You’re in love with him.” I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up her hand to stop me. “Don’t bother denying it. I could tell the moment you stepped into our limo that first night. You were all but drooling.” She sips her drink. “Do you know the reason he’s never reciprocated your feelings?”
“I’m uncouth, vulgar, and stubborn?”
“Oddly, he likes those traits in you,” she says with a smile. “No. You lost him before you ever had him, my dear. The moment you stepped onto the edge of that bridge, any chance of romantic love was over. If you two had just met, say at a function or on the street, he would have fallen madly in love with you, without a doubt.”