“Don’t I get a say in who buys my father’s legacy?” Her shoulders bowed. “Why would you let it go to waste as a sleazy casino?”
“Sleaze sells. And right now, I don’t care who is buying.” Calmer now, he straightened his tie. “You have until the auction Friday. Use the same assets your mother used on my brother, and you might have a decent future.”
Ellie gasped. “How dare you?”
“Your mother is the reason I hadn’t spoken to my brother in thirty years.” Russert swallowed. “I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye.”
Finally, a little light shed on the history between the two estranged siblings. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s in the past.” He brushed off her compassion. “I’ve tried to honor Frank’s memory by setting you up with some kind of inheritance out of the financial shambles he left. But you need to make some decisions, Eleanor. Because when I leave this island on Saturday, you’re on your own.”
“I know that.” Her chin trembled.
“No one is going to buy this hotel out of pity.”
“ I know .” Angry tears stung her eyes.
“Then help me get it sold.” Russert strode away and closed the door quietly behind him. As if he hadn’t just verbally torn her to shreds. One of New York City’s top corporate attorneys, Russert Montgomery played hardball and didn’t care who he hurt in the process, as long as he won.
Ellie slumped against the bathroom door, feeling defeated. The worst part was she couldn’t counter his attacks. Despite the crushing delivery, every accusation he made was true. She had nothing to go on but her skill as a hotel manager.
And my looks , as Russert dubiously pointed out.
Is this what her fate had come down to? Offering her body and selling her soul, so she wouldn’t have to leave the only home she’d ever known?
Throwing the rag into the trash can, she left the suite before she succumbed to tears. As she descended the staircase, she ran into Carter on the middle landing.
His troubled expression opposed his previous careless attitude. He stepped toward her. “Listen, Ellie, if I knew he’d come down on you that hard, I would’ve dealt with things differently.”
“You heard us?”
When he nodded, she withered inside, realizing how vulnerable that made her. She hid her mortification behind toughness. “I handled it.”
“That’s not the point—”
“I appreciate your concern, but we’re all under a lot of stress. It was no big deal.”
As she turned to go, he caught her arm. “If you want, I’ll say something to him about it.”
If she stayed here another minute in the warmth of his attentiveness, she’d start sobbing. “Don’t. Just...don’t.”
“Fine.” Prickly attitude infused his tone. “Sorry I asked.”
This time he let her leave. She kept her gaze on the ground, watching the marble tiles blur as dampness clung to her lashes.
Approaching her room at the end of hall on the first floor, she fumbled with her key. Finally her fingers steadied enough to unlock her door. She rushed into the cool darkness, closed the door and leaned back against it. She shut her eyes, fighting the rush of fear that overcame her and the swell of tears that followed.
She just needed to be alone, to think. To make a decision that would change the rest of her life.
Carter stood in the cemetery behind the small stone church. Late-day sunlight slanted through its stained glass windows, illuminating the geometric patterns of color.
Spanish moss dripped from a Live Oak tree, its branches spread in a canopy above him. He’d chosen this spot because of the tree, which stood like a sentinel guarding his mother’s grave.
Kneeling, he brushed crisp fall leaves away from her headstone that glittered with flecks of pink quartz. His fingers caressed the engraved letters. Rose Stratton . A name that encompassed sweetness and sacrifice, and the proud woman she was.
Twelve letters. Back then that was all he could afford to put on her grave.
He placed a dozen pink roses beneath her name. “Sorry it’s been so long.”
In the years since she’d passed away, and he’d made a fortune ten times over, he considered trading the headstone for something more impressive, with an engraved passage from her favorite poet, Emily Dickenson.
In the end he chose to keep her simple headstone with only her name to remind him of his roots, and the sacrifices they’d both made so he could become the man he was. While he admired his mother’s determination to raise him on her own, Carter was done making sacrifices.
“I wish you could see...”