by Gun Brooke
Now, Sylvie moaned in bliss and dared enjoy a tiny glimpse of hope. Perhaps everything she’d fought so hard for wasn’t slipping through her fingers after all. Tomorrow she’d find out what terms Aeron would offer for keeping the partnership going like before. Sylvie would put her staff at Classic Swedish Inc. to work. They’d already prepared a folder of information for Aeron, but now they had a few hours to polish the content some more. Apart from that, Sylvie needed to call Helena Forsythe. Helena had known Maeve for a long time, though not closely. Surely she must have heard of Aeron’s existence?
Willing her mind to calm down, Sylvie leaned back against the edge of the tub. She focused on the candle’s calm flame and forced the last conscious thoughts from her brain. This was all about relaxation and recharging. Everything else could wait.
*
Aeron sat in the dark hotel room, curled up on the bed with one of the spare blankets around her shoulders. Was she making a huge mistake after all? Even if she got her way, she would still have to prolong her stay in New York for weeks. Perhaps more. She wanted to go home to her cabin more than anything. She longed for the rustling of the trees, the sun glittering in the lake, and the lack of city sounds. Most of all the latter. Here in the Big Apple—the bustling city most people seemed to love and enjoy—she found no peace and quiet. Yes, she could spend time in Central Park, but so did many other New Yorkers, not to mention tourists.
At home, she sat outside under her favorite tree with her laptop and wrote her hair-raising horror stories filled with suspense and terror. Her latest trilogy, The Sorceress Chronicles, her first supernatural horror storyline, had proved to be harder to write than she thought, but also so very gratifying. The calmer her life was, the more she wanted to boost the horror. Perhaps something was wrong with her after all. Maeve had certainly held that opinion for many years.
Would she be able to write in New York if she had to spend several weeks or, God forbid, months here? She was so used to her calm existence in the Adirondacks, where her closest neighbors enjoyed the peaceful refuge as much as she did. Aeron checked the time. She could ponder all this after she knew for sure how her meeting with Sylvie would pan out.
Sylvie Thorn wasn’t a stereotypical Swedish woman, unless you assumed her icy demeanor was a national Swedish trait. Her chocolate hair and pale complexion emphasized her piercing, dark-blue eyes. Only Sylvie’s curvy, full lips softened her somber features. She seemed tall, but it had to be an optical illusion since she couldn’t be more than a couple of inches taller than Aeron’s average five feet and five inches. Her elegance appeared to come effortlessly, and certainly her assuredness added to her authoritative persona.
How the hell could she have anything in common with Maeve? Aeron’s mother could be elegant when it suited her, but she was hardly this composed and serious. Instead, Maeve had been the epitome of a woman seeking the fountain of perpetual youth.
Chapter Six
Manhattan—1999
“If anyone asks, you’re my kid sister, okay?” Maeve was busy applying yet another layer of mascara. “Can you remember it this time?” She glanced at Aeron in the mirror. “I really like Mark, and it’s not the right time to fill him in on all the details.”
Aeron stood so straight her back hurt. This wasn’t the first time her mother had wanted her to be someone else. Despite it being Christmas Eve and Aeron home from boarding school, Maeve had made plans with another Mr. Right. At least tonight Aeron could be a sister instead of a distant cousin. “But if Mark likes you it shouldn’t matter.” Flinching at the darkening thunder in Maeve’s eyes, Aeron knew this hadn’t been a smart thing to say.
“You’re eleven years old, Aeron,” Maeve said between tense lips. “You’re too young to understand anything about guys, let alone hand out advice.”
“I’m sorry.” Studying her shoes for a moment, Aeron gathered courage to meet her mother’s gaze. “It’s just…you’re so beautiful that it shouldn’t matter.” “It” referred to her birth and awkward presence in Maeve’s life.
Maeve’s expression changed completely. “Aw, you little pearl. My looks won’t last for all eternity, even if I’m working on it. I can’t be twenty-eight forever.”
Aeron knew they were skidding along a topic that could set off Maeve’s mood swings at any given moment. Her mother was the youngest mom among the parents of the kids in Aeron’s class. Aeron’s friend, Graeme Brody, always made it his business to feed Aeron the latest news. Usually, it was about other classmates or even celebrities, but the topic that kept coming up was Aeron’s mother and how she affected the other parents.
Sometimes, Maeve sent Paulina to the parent-teacher meetings in Vermont, but mostly she went, almost looking ready to pick a fight. Maeve often complained about people criticizing her for having a child so early in life. “Those sanctimonious idiots,” she’d hiss. “They’re not concerned about Aeron. They probably assume I drove my parents to an early grave.”
Aeron wondered if Maeve actually felt hurt and camouflaged her pain as drama and anger. Or did her mother truly enjoy riling the other parents that much? Maeve used certain phrases when others confronted her for being an unfit mother. It was as if she rehearsed in front of her enormous vanity mirror for any eventuality.
At one point, before she went off to boarding school, Aeron had overheard her first principal, Mrs. Davis, tell her mother that Maeve’s lack of parenting skills had caused Aeron’s introversion and extreme shyness. Aeron had been barely eight at the time and didn’t know what introvert and extreme meant, but she would never forget how Maeve had yelled, even growled, at Mrs. Davis. Words had poured from her lips. “You clearly don’t live in the modern world.” Maeve had spat every letter, and even out of sight Aeron could envision her mother’s expression. Pale, but with bright-red cheeks and her lips pulled back from her teeth like Paco, their neighbor’s dog. “Your views are like that of a dinosaur—ancient. And just like with them, your views will eventually become extinct.”
Maeve had stormed out of the office that time, furious enough to startle even the otherwise so frightening secretary who had listened to the exchange, her mouth half open. Now she snapped her lips closed as Maeve halted in front of Aeron.
“Why don’t we go for ice cream?” Maeve asked, her voice suddenly soft, like she had flicked a switch.
“Ice cream?” Smiling carefully, Aeron wasn’t sure if this was a trick or something Maeve said just because Mrs. Davis and her secretary could hear.
“Yes. All you can eat. We can have it instead of dinner, what do you think?” She didn’t look at Aeron when she spoke, but glanced back at the principal with a triumphant expression.
“Ice cream for dinner?” Aeron gaped, much like the secretary earlier.
“Yes. You like strawberry, don’t you?” Maeve pulled her down the corridor, walking so fast Aeron could just hang on and hold on to her school bag.
Aeron actually liked chocolate ice cream the best, but any ice cream for dinner was amazing. No doubt, Mrs. Davis and her secretary frowned upon Maeve’s idea, but Maeve never cared about such things.
Shifting back to her memories of her eleven-year-old self, Aeron recalled how Maeve had stood in front of her large mirror. “Mark works on Wall Street. He’s practically as loaded as I am, which means he’s truly interested and isn’t after my money.”
“That’s good,” Aeron said weakly. She was unsure how the topic of money could have anything to do with really liking someone. If you disliked someone, all the money in the US couldn’t make you like them. Not to mention love. Aeron didn’t know a lot about love, but if you liked someone and then multiplied the liking by ten million, then it was love.
“Do you like him a lot?” Aeron dared to ask, proud that her voice carried.
“I do. I like him a lot.” Maeve got up from the vanity and pulled off her robe. She was always like this, uninhibited and free-spirited. Having watched her mother walk around the condo in all kinds of undress ever since Aero
n could remember, she paid hardly any attention to the flimsy undergarments. “I may even grow to love him one day.”
“What is that like?” Aeron asked the question before she thought better of it.
“What is what like?” Maeve spoke absentmindedly as she held up two dresses on hangers and scrutinized them.
“Loving someone.” Aeron instantly regretted asking, but part of her desperately wanted to know.
“Oh, love.” Maeve plopped down on the bed and looked dreamy-eyed. “I suppose that depends. But the best kind is when you forget to breathe whenever you see the person you love. You want to be with him all the time, and you never want anything, or anyone, to come between you. You know you would never be happy again, ever, if that happened.” She tilted her head and looked inquisitively at Aeron. “Why do you ask? Any potential boyfriend I should know about?” Maeve giggled. “Let’s hope it’s not that geek Graeme Brody. He’s not boyfriend material.”
That didn’t make sense at all. Why wouldn’t Graeme be boyfriend material? He was smart and nice, and he cared about the environment. “Is Mark boyfriend material?” Hiding her hands behind her back, Aeron rocked back and forth on her heels.
“You bet he is.”
“Why?” Aeron knew she was pushing it, but the words broke free.
“Because he’s damn sexy.” Giggling again, Maeve covered her mouth with her left hand. “If Paulina heard me she’d force me to apologize. He thinks the same thing of me, I believe. He might be the one.”
“Did you ever love someone like that? Like you never wanted to be apart?” Aeron thought she better get more questions in before Maeve resorted back to mild annoyance, which normally was the case when Aeron asked too much.
Maeve put the hangers down, her movements slow. Her eyes grew big and she sighed so deeply, Aeron feared her mother might cry in front of her. She had never witnessed her mother in tears and was pretty sure she’d freak out if Maeve actually started sobbing.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” Maeve pulled her robe back on again and tied a firm knot. She now moved fast and jerkily. “Your father.”
Aeron sat down on the vanity chair so fast her teeth nearly caught the tip of her tongue as they slammed shut. “My—my father?”
“You must have realized you have one?” Smirking unhappily, Maeve sat on the foot of the bed. “And yes, despite what anyone might think or say, your father was the love of my life. We weren’t meant to be, that’s true, but that doesn’t matter. I loved him.”
“You never talk about him.” Aeron made sure she didn’t sound accusing.
“Same reason. Too much love. Too painful.” Maeve stood abruptly, indicating this talk of love and Aeron’s father was over. “I’m going to wear the blue dress. Once you zip me up, you can go pick out a blue outfit from your closet. And I mean blue. Not aqua, not something bordering on purple.”
Aeron burned to ask more questions about her father. Every time she brought the topic up with Paulina, the housekeeper only shook her head. “I can’t tell you, Aeron,” she’d say. “I didn’t know him. I don’t think anyone did, apart from your mother. You have to ask her.”
Aeron didn’t dare. Not until today, when Maeve had opened up. So now she knew two new things: Maeve knew who Aeron’s father was and loved him most of all. From what Maeve had just sounded like, Aeron figured her mother loved this man more than she did her. She should be upset about that. It wasn’t a nice feeling to come in second, after all. But Aeron didn’t look at it that way. She’d always doubted her mother’s love for her, with good reason. Now her mother talked about this amazing love she’d felt, and if she did love Aeron’s father like that…surely Maeve allowed some of that love to spill over on Aeron?
She expertly zipped up her mother’s dress, even if her fingers trembled. Walking back to her room, she passed a large hallway mirror and stopped to scrutinize her face. Oval and pale, with freckles on her nose and glasses that filled half of it, her face sure didn’t look like her beautiful mother’s. Maybe she looked like him. Her father.
As she hurried back to her mother, Aeron knew she would hate sitting at the dinner table tonight more than she usually did on her school breaks. Normally, she found it stressful and feared she might say something wrong. This evening, she realized she didn’t want Maeve to smile and carry on with some guy. She wanted to hear more about the mysterious man Maeve still loved.
“There you are. I heard Paulina get the door.” Maeve reached for Aeron’s right hand and squeezed it. “Remember? You’re my little sister.”
It was so strange. When Maeve had told her this earlier, Aeron hadn’t thought anything of it. It was just her mother’s way of thinking. Now, after finding out that Maeve had loved—still loved—Aeron’s father, posing as her mother’s little sister broke her heart.
*
Manhattan—Present Time
Sylvie greeted Aeron and made sure her wariness of the situation didn’t show. A lifetime of perfecting her mask let her smile easily at Maeve’s daughter. “I’m so glad you agreed to see me, Aeron. Thank you.”
Aeron pulled off her sunglasses and returned the handshake firmly, but not the smile. “As it turns out, I have quite a few questions I need answers to, and you seem like my best bet.”
“I’ll be happy to assist in any way I can.” Wondering if she sounded too servile, Sylvie kept the polite smile going. “I find we can truly help each other if we only find a way to communicate.”
Aeron took a seat at the conference table after greeting Lucas Hayes. Again, she’d arrived last, but not late. “As I see it, we need to hear my mother’s will in greater detail before we draw up any agreements worth the name.”
Taken aback at the cool tone in Aeron’s voice, Sylvie merely nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, now. I’m glad the two of you decided to at least hear the details,” Lucas Hayes said after sitting down with a tablet and a folder in front of him. “Maeve’s will is fairly uncomplicated and to the point. She wanted me to handle everything personally at this stage. No nosy assistants, as she put it.” He smiled tightly. “She was adamant that I use as little of what she called legal mumbo-jumbo as possible. Clear rules and conditions, but nothing fancy, I believe she also said. As I mentioned yesterday, Maeve thought I was a foolish mother hen of a lawyer who kept pestering her to update her will. She was young and living her life as she saw fit, and she didn’t want to think about something as unpalatable as her own demise. Eventually I managed to reach her by bringing up your future, Aeron. I never got to meet you—”
“That’s not unusual. Not very many people did after I started school,” Aeron said and snorted unhappily, but then made an apologetic gesture with her hands. “Sorry. Please go on.”
Sylvie filed Aeron’s comment away for future use. Maeve had kept the fact she had a daughter from her as well. Sylvie had never been allowed to either know about, let alone meet, Aeron, which mystified her. Why would a modern young woman, very young at that, have to conceal the birth of a baby? Yes, Sylvie regarded the US as quite reactionary in certain areas of the country and in some urban circles, but Aeron had been born in the late eighties—not during the previous turn of the century.
“I saw pictures of you as a young child when your mother took you on a cruise, I believe.” Lucas smiled amicably. “When Maeve finally started thinking about her assets and her life situation as a single mother, it didn’t take her long to figure out what she wanted. Now. I turned all essential points into a list of bullet points for you. These are the terms we have to work with.” He handed a printed document to each Aeron and Sylvie.
Sylvie glanced quickly at hers. She hated being without Thomas, her personal assistant, but the meeting was too important to jeopardize anything by showing up with someone to take notes. Now she squinted at the letters, and the lines began to blur and move in an all-too-familiar pattern. She managed to make out a few words, enough to understand the essence of a few of the points. When she managed to decipher yet another
sentence, she thought her eyes would pop out of their sockets. Was this what Maeve had in mind for her and Aeron? Really?
“As you see, the first item is relatively simple. The two of you need to be on good speaking terms. According to Maeve,” he said, and smiled a little too broadly, “neither of you can truly learn from each other unless you, er…‘cut the bullshit.’”
“Sounds like Maeve all right.” Sylvie glanced furtively at Aeron, who looked unaffected by her mother’s wording. What did Maeve mean by “each other”? What was she supposed to learn from Aeron? She sure wouldn’t cut it when it came to English literature or science unless they came as audio books.
“The second point stipulates how she wants you, Ms. Thorn, to—”
“Please, call me Sylvie.” Raising her hand in a deflecting manner, Sylvie motioned for him to continue.
“Thank you. Anyway. She wants you and Aeron to work together at least three days a week.”
“What?” Aeron raised her voice. “Three days? You’re kidding. I’ve got a deadline to keep, and I also need to return to the Adirondacks.”
“It gets worse,” Sylvie said just below her breath. “Go on, Lucas.” She used his name with the ease that came with moving among the rich and powerful in Manhattan on a daily basis.
“Of course. Aeron, your mother stipulates that you take the opportunity to have Sylvie guide you through the DeForest stock and investment portfolio. As of now, several different financial advisors monitor and handle your wealth, and a highly regarded board of directors supervises them. With Sylvie’s assistance, Maeve wanted you to know what they’re doing and learn about where the DeForest fortune stems from and how it’s being used. You may have certain ideas regarding how you want the money placed, and Maeve wanted you to know how that can be done. Sylvie has the know-how.”
