Marrying the Millionaire
Page 4
STRAIN PULLED RICHMOND’S FACE TIGHT. “Thanks, Mom.”
Leslie rolled her eyes at her ex-husband, Russell. “Unlike some people, you can always count on your mother.”
Russell’s eyes narrowed at Leslie. “Now is not the time, Leslie.”
Leslie’s jaw muscle flickered. “It’s never the time, Russell. Is it?” Leslie kissed her granddaughter Isabelle’s cheek, then walked off.
One by one, attendees at the funeral made their way up to him and Isabelle, expressing their deepest condolences. As the many people approached him and his daughter, Richmond carefully studied their faces, their body language, and most importantly their eyes. Any one of these people speaking to him, shaking his hand, kissing his daughter, could have possibly poisoned his wife and be the murderer. Wondering if the killer was amongst him, he grimaced.
Richmond’s good friend Braylon Wexler, along with his beautiful wife, Sandella, and their baby, Logan, approached him. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Sandella uttered sadly as Logan sat perched on her hip.
Admiring Braylon’s beautiful family, Richmond’s burning nose flared. Stressed, he nodded at his friends. “Sandella, Braylon, thanks for coming.”
Deep, gut-wrenching hurt penetrated Braylon’s pupils. “Don’t thank us. You know we’d do anything to support you. We loved Salina.” Braylon threw his arms around Richmond and Isabelle. “Salina was a good woman. She’s with God now.”
Glancing up at him, Sandella placed a gentle hand to his arm. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do. After things settle down a little, maybe we can get the girls together for a playdate.”
Drool slithered from baby Logan’s mouth down her chin. As if she understood the word “playdate”, she gave Richmond a big smile, revealing a single tooth perking out from her bottom gum.
Playdate? I don’t know where to begin with a playdate. God, I’m a single father at the age of thirty. “I think Isabelle would like that.”
Braylon patted Richmond’s shoulder, then let his hand fall to his side. “Sandella has an employee out today, so we’re not going to make the repass. But we’ll stop by tomorrow to check on you.”
Seeing Braylon and Sandella as husband and wife reminded him of what he’ll never have again—a great marriage. Overwhelmed, his knees threatened to buckle. This is how Salina and I used to look before she got sick. So happy, and vibrant, and in love. Dread almost choked him.
“Don’t feel obligated to stop by. I’m good, man,” Richmond outright lied. I’m a big ball of fucked up.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Braylon said flatly. He placed his hand in the small of Sandella’s back, opened the umbrella, and the two of them walked across the emerald lawn toward their car parked on the curb of the road.
Richmond’s estate manager of Spaulding Equestrian Center began heading in his direction and paused when she reached him. “I’ll take Isabelle for you.” Chelsey reached for Isabelle, but Richmond declined her gracious offer.
“Thanks, Chelsey. She’s going to stay with me for now.”
Chelsey rubbed circles on Isabelle’s back. “I understand. I’ll meet you back at the house for the repass.”
Richmond nodded.
The heavy raindrops turned to a soft, slow drizzle. Grey clouds disintegrated into white puffs. Family and friends headed for their vehicles off in the distance, leaving Richmond alone with just his daughter and the funeral director.
The funeral director began lowering Salina’s casket into the depths of the murky earth. Richmond’s whole body stiffened as he peered down into the ground and watched on in despair. Goodbye, my darling Salina. I’ll always love you. I can’t take this, he thought, hastening away with Isabelle cradled in his arms.
He stalked across thick patches of dewy emerald grass, drew open the door of the black sleek limo, then climbed inside. After he strapped Isabelle in her seatbelt, he buckled his. This is the worst day of my life. Haven’t slept in days.
Rows of cars piled inside the cemetery in remembrance of Salina shined their bright headlights. As the limo drove slowly along the curve of the slick asphalt, Richmond glanced out the window and spotted a small graveside procession near the pond ending. It couldn’t have been more than five people in attendance.
A brown-complexioned woman wearing an off-white dress stood beneath a tent, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. Her brunette straight hair blew in the wind, brushing her face. She took a few steps, and her knees buckled. In an effort to keep her from falling, the two women walking beside her clutched her arms and tried to balance her. Fright rounded the little boy’s eyes standing behind the upset female.
She looks like she’s about to hit the ground. I know exactly how she feels. “Stop the car!”
The limo rolled to a halt. Without thinking, Richmond flung open the door and stepped into a puddle of water drenching the concrete. As he jogged across the soaked lawn toward the upset lady, water squished beneath the soles of his shoes. Reaching the distraught woman, he paused, his heart thudding harshly in his chest from running.
Crying her eyes out, the distressed woman kept her head bowed as the two women standing beside her clutched her arms to keep her from falling to the ground. “Do you need any help carrying her?” Tempted to grab her, he instinctively extended his arms, but didn’t touch her.
The weeping woman slowly lifted her head from between her sagging shoulders to meet his gaze. Hurt stained her red, puffy eyes. Specks of thin snot dampened the openings of her nostrils.
She sniffled. “I’ll be fine.” Her soft voice was barely audible. “I just need to get some rest, to sleep.”
Me, too. Dismayed, Richmond’s heart clenched. “I can carry you if you need me to.”
Forgoing his kind offer by shaking her head, long hair bristled her brown, sad face. “No, thanks.”
“Are you sure, Kayla?” the woman to her left asked, looking almost identical to this Kayla woman.
Tears streamed down Kayla’s face. Veins bulged at her temples. “I’m sure.” The women released her arms. Insistent that she make it to the car by herself, Kayla hiccupped. When she took a step forward, the fragile young woman stumbled to the ground, landing on her knees. “Life is not fair,” she whimpered, her shoulders shaking up and down. Up and down.
“Mommy. Mommy. Please don’t die like Papa.” The little boy beside the troubled lady looked on with a scared expression on his face.
Poor thing. Like it or not, you’re getting help. Richmond scooped Kayla up into his arms. Cradling her fragile body to his chest, he peered down at the cute kid. “Your mommy’s not going to die, fellow. Let’s get her in the car.” Toting Kayla, he marched across the lawn toward a black Cadillac.
One of the women who’d been assisting Kayla fell in stride next to Richmond and glanced up at him. “Thank you so much, Sir.”
“You’re welcome.”
The woman then looked at Kayla. “As soon as we get home, I’m cooking you a hot meal, and you’re going to eat it. I’m not taking no for an answer this time. Grandpa would want you to take care of yourself, you know?”
Sniffling, Kayla nodded. Richmond opened the rear door to the black Cadillac and eased Kayla onto the leather seat. The tip of her nose beamed a bright red. “Thanks, Mr.—”
“I hope you feel better.” Richmond turned on his heels, hurried back toward his vehicle, clambered inside, and rejoined his precious pumpkin, Isabelle. Heartbroken beyond measure, he cupped his daughter’s tiny palm.
Eyes burning, he inhaled deeply. As the limousine drove through the cemetery’s black iron gates, deep hurt spread through his system, tempting to make him cry. God, I can’t let Isabelle see me cry. I have to be strong for her. Jesus Christ! You got it wrong, God. Damn You.
Mourning, Richmond draped an arm around Isabelle’s shoulder and drew her closer to his side. Mercy, he hadn’t slept in days. Hadn’t slept since the night he’d found Salina dying in their bed from being poisoned. Had Sal
ina died on her own from the terrible disease, ALS, that’d be one thing. But for someone to take her life was another. My wife was murdered. An expletive entered his mind. Killed.
Gazing out the window as the limo drove past ancient storefront buildings, a long breath ousted from his mouth. Head throbbing, he clenched his teeth. It wasn’t fair that his precious pumpkin would grow up without her mother. It wasn’t fair that someone had taken his wife’s, Salina’s, life. And it wasn’t fair that he hadn’t found his wife’s killer yet.
Disgruntled, his forehead crinkled. Oh, Isabelle. Who killed your mother? Who? Damnit. Who!