Wherever You Will Go(7)
I walk to the bedroom door and poke my head into the hallway. My dad is holding my mum like she can barely stand on her own. My lips part to say something but nothing comes out. I swallow to wet my mouth, but it’s dry and painful. How long has it been since I’ve had anything to drink? I remember having some Tylenol, or was it Advil, sometime yesterday. Yesterday? Or was that the day before?
Finally my voice seems to work, but it’s quiet and raw. “I’m just going to jump in the shower. Why don’t you get the coffee going so we can sit down with a cup when I get out?”
My mum’s eyes are wide as she turns to look at me. Shock turns to relief and she gives me a bright yet sad smile. Her small grin makes this all worth it.
I trudge to the en-suite and turn on the hot water, adding only the smallest amount of cold to prevent scalding before stepping in.
The hot water running over my back and loosening all the knots makes me wish I had done this three days ago. I take my time washing and conditioning my hair, lathering my body up and enjoying the heat on all my sore muscles from not moving much the last few days.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap my towel around myself and decide to take my time and delay having to face my parents and see the worry in their eyes.
By the time I’ve moisturised every inch of skin, blow-dried my hair then curled it, added a little makeup and swapped outfits three times, I realise I can’t avoid going out there forever. They won’t leave until they’ve seen me, and the better I am the quicker they’ll go.
The kitchen smells of not only coffee, but bacon, eggs, and something sweet.
“Good, you’re out.” Mum turns around from the counter and glances my way. “Wasn’t sure if I was going to have to come and check up on you.”
“No, Mum, I’m fine. Turns out I needed that more than I thought.” I slide down into one of the dining room chairs.
“I’m glad, sweetie. You look so much better already. Now you need to eat something, I’ve made all your favourites: bacon, French toast, blueberry muffins, and I even did a few chocolate-chip pancakes.”
As guilty as I’m feeling, I know there is no way I can stomach any of that. “Mum, I’m sorry but I haven’t eaten much lately, and I don’t think all that is going to sit well in my stomach.”
Her face drops, and the knot in my belly tightens. “Oh, of course not, Brooke. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of that when I decided to cook all of this up. Don’t worry, how about I make you some toast with a little butter?”
“That would be great. Thanks, Mum. I feel bad wasting all that food though.”
Mum turns towards the pantry to grab the bread, and I’m not even sure I can stomach that.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. Dad is heading into Argo after here, and he can take it in for Saxon and the staff to pick at for afternoon coffee break.”
My body stills at the mention of Argo. How can she mention Nate’s firm so casually, so relaxed, as if it’s just another day at the office, just another day where he would be there to greet them? Making time to have a coffee and chat with my dad while sitting behind his huge mahogany desk looking out floor-to-ceiling windows of his twenty-fourth floor office.
Then it hits me. “Oh my God. I haven’t even thought of Argo. I guess I should be dealing with that. What am I supposed to do about it?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dad says as he enters the kitchen from the back door. “I spoke to Saxon at the funeral, and he says he has it all under control until you decide what you want to do. He said to take as long as you need and to call him if you need anything regarding figures, client lists, etcetera for selling.”
“Selling?” What? “Why would I sell it? It was Nate’s dream. He built that business from the ground up. I don’t need the money, and I don’t want anyone else having it. There is no way I’m selling it.”
My dad lets out a heavy sigh. “Brooke, darling, how are you going to keep the business running? You know even less about investment banking than I do.”
“I have Saxon to run it,” I state, lifting my chin as if I have just made an unbeatable point in this debate.
“Brooke, Saxon has been Nate’s right-hand guy at Argo for six years. They left college together and built Nate’s dream. Don’t you think Saxon has his own dreams and career ambitions he gave up by working for Nate instead of opening his own business, which he is more than capable of doing? I think it would be best to sell and let everyone have a fresh start.” He explains this to me in a manner as if he is explaining the simplest thing to a child—like this is the obvious and only choice.