Come Fly With Me (8 page)

Allison
looked
at
her
mother,
“And
here
I
was
just
thinking
this
week
couldn’t
get
any
worse.”
They
walked
toward
the
parking
lot
and
got
into
the
car.
Allison
turned
on
the
ignition
and
her
mother's
hand
shot
out
to
stop
her.

"Alli..."
she
began
as
her
voice
broke.
Her
eyes
filled
with
unshed
tears.
"I'm
holding
it
together
by
a
thread,
but
those
detectives
and
the
things
they're
implying..."

"Who
said
you
have
to
hold
it
together?
Not
for
my
sake,
don't.
Let
it
out.
Scream,
cry,
whatever
it
takes,"
she
finished
softly."You've
been
so
composed,
way
too
composed.
It
isn't
healthy."

She
shook
her
head,
"No,
not
here,
not
now,
in
a
parking
lot
in
front
of
everybody."

"There's
no
one
here.
Just
you
and
me.
It's
just
you
and
me
and
Jeremy,
now."

She
paused
as
her
mother
gasped
out
a
few
large
sobs
as
she
gripped
her
folded
arms
tightly
and
rocked
back
and
forth
for
a
while.
"I'm
...its
okay,
let's
go
home."

"If
you're
sure."

Her
mother
nodded
her
assent,
and
she
pulled
out
of
the
lot.
"But
we
still
need
to
talk
about
the
cottage,"
Allison
added.

"Okay,
I
can
do
that.
It's
good;
I
can
refocus
on
that,"
she
nodded.
"You
have
to
deal
with
what
went
on
there
in
order
to
move
forward."

"I
have
moved
forward.
I
have
a
successful
business;
I'm
living
in
the
here
and
now.
The
past
is
long
gone;
I
will
not
deal
with
stupid
childhood
memories."

"...that
you
carry
around
with
you
every
day."

"Not
true.
Not
true
at
all."

"Allison."

"Sorry,
sell
the
damn
cottage,
burn
it,
I
don't
give
a
flying
f..."
she
stopped
herself.
Getting
angry
with
her
mother
was
not
going
to
solve
anything
and
her
mother
was
very
vulnerable
right
now.
They
both
were.
She
was
happy
to
pull
into
the
driveway
a
few
minutes
later
before
she
might
say
anything
truly
hurtful.
She
shot
out
of
the
car
and
slammed
her
door,
taking
out
her
frustration
on
it
instead.

Carol
was
sitting
on
the
sofa
looking
at
old
photo
albums.
She
jumped
up
in
concern
as
Allison
came
storming
in.
“What
happened?”
she
asked.

“I’m
going
up
to
pack,”
Allison
responded.

Carol
turned
toward
her
older
sister,
“Vivienne?”

“At
what
point
did
I
allow
myself
to
become
a
personal
punching
bag
for
my
children?”
Vivienne
said.

Her
soft
voice
floated
and
followed
Allison
up
the
stairs,
causing
her
to
pause
mid-step.

“She’s
dealing
with
a
lot.
She
loves
and
respects
you
very
much.”

“Well,
it
sure
didn’t
feel
that
way
at
the
lawyer’s
office
earlier.
And
now
the
police
suspect
foul
play
in
Daniel's
death.
Carol,
could
you
fix
some
chamomile
tea,
and
make
me
a
double,
please.”
Vivienne
sat
down
wearily
at
the
island
in
the
kitchen.
“Daniel
left
the
summer
house
in
Bar
Harbor
to
Ally,”
she
added.

“Ouch.
Wasn’t
that
sold
years
ago?”

“No,
Daniel
held
onto
it
for
sentimental
reasons,
and
he
felt
the
property
value
would
increase,
which
it
did—
tenfold.
I
need
about
six
aspirin
to
get
me
through
the
rest
of
this
day,”
Vivienne
said,
her
chin
resting
in
her
hands.

Allison
hastily
ran
up
the
remainder
of
the
stairs
and
refused
to
allow
her
emotions
to
dictate
her
next
move.
She
needed
to
concentrate
on
formulating
some
sort
of
strategy
to
get
through
the
next
month
at
the
office
and
her
gallery.
Her
mother
would
have
to
find
the
strength
to
deal
with
things
on
her
end.
She
tossed
the
few
balled
up
articles
of
clothing
she
had
brought
with
her
from
Florida
into
her
overnight
bag
before
coming
gingerly
into
the
kitchen.

“I
called
a
car
to
take
me
back
to
the
city.
Carol,
how
long
will
you
be
staying?
I
hate
to
feel
like
I’m
abandoning
Mom.”

“I’m
sitting
right
here,
there's
no
need
to
speak
about
me
in
the
third
person.
And
I
don’t
need
a
babysitter,”
her
mother
said.