Chapter 13 - The Mother of the GroomRochelle Reed called Simone.
Simone considered ignoring it.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
“Simone.”
Marcus’s mother sounded older than she remembered.
They had met perhaps a dozen times.
Sunday dinners.
A birthday.
Christmas.
Rochelle had once told Simone she hoped Marcus “finally stopped running from good things.”
Now that sentence felt ironic.
“I’m sorry to call.”
“What do you need?”
“I need his belongings.”
“They’re boxed.”
“I can pick them up.”
“Tomorrow at the bakery.”
A pause.
“Thank you.”
Rochelle arrived alone.
She looked at Simone with red-rimmed eyes.
“I didn’t know about Ashley.”
Simone believed her.
“Okay.”
“I knew he dated somebody before you.”
Simone’s stomach tightened.
“When?”
“When you first started seeing him.”
“Who?”
“He never told me her name.”
Simone stared.
“You knew he was seeing someone?”
“I knew there was overlap.”
“How much?”
“Maybe a few months.”
Simone laughed bitterly.
“Two years, Rochelle.”
Rochelle closed her eyes.
“I know that now.”
“You met me.”
“Yes.”
“You invited me into your home.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever ask him if he ended the other relationship?”
Rochelle’s face crumpled.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to believe him.”
There it was again.
Believing what was convenient.
Rochelle sat.
“When Marcus was little, his father left.”
Simone said nothing.
“I worked two jobs. Marcus handled things a child shouldn’t handle.”
“Bills?”
“Yes.”
“He told Ashley’s company he learned to hide notices for you.”
Rochelle looked shocked.
“He told them?”
“His sister did.”
Rochelle sighed.
“He hated seeing me scared.”
“So he hid problems.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“When he was sixteen, I found three shutoff notices under his mattress. He’d been trying to earn enough money before I noticed.”
Simone felt sorrow.
Not forgiveness.
Sorrow.
“He thought if he solved something before anybody saw it, then the lie didn’t count,” Rochelle said.
Simone whispered, “He still thinks that.”
Rochelle nodded.
“I think so.”
She looked at the box.
“But I also think people are starting to use his childhood to explain too much.”
Simone looked at her.
Rochelle’s voice hardened.
“My son knew right from wrong.”
The sentence surprised Simone.
“He knew.”
Rochelle wiped tears.
“I love him.”
“I know.”
“And he did terrible things.”
Simone exhaled.
“Both can be true.”
“Yes.”
Rochelle took the box.
Before leaving, she stopped.
“Did he love you?”
Simone’s face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“I think he did.”
Simone looked at her.
“That doesn’t help.”
“No.”
Rochelle nodded.
“It probably shouldn’t.”
Across town, Evelyn sat with Ashley in Charles Bennett’s old study.
They had opened his estate files.
The promissory note to Marcus was there.
$150,000.
Interest modest.
West End warehouse as secondary collateral.
But there was another document.
A handwritten memorandum from Charles.
Marcus has talent but poor judgment under pressure. Do not extend additional company credit without board approval.
Ashley stared.
Her father had known exactly who Marcus was.
And yet he had encouraged the engagement.
“Why?” she asked.
Evelyn whispered, “He thought marriage would stabilize him.”
Ashley turned.
“What?”
“Your father believed family could anchor people.”
“So he wanted me to rehabilitate Marcus?”
“No.”
“That is exactly what you just described.”
Evelyn looked stricken.
“I never thought of it that way.”
Ashley stood.
“My father knew Marcus had misused company money.”
“Yes.”
“Knew he had debt.”
“Yes.”
“Knew his judgment collapsed under pressure.”
“Yes.”
“And decided marrying his daughter might make him safer.”
“Ashley—”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“This isn’t only about Marcus anymore.”
She looked around the study lined with awards bearing her father’s name.
“I need to grieve somebody who died eighteen months ago all over again.”
That night Ashley removed her wedding gown from its garment bag.
She had not looked at it since the ceremony.
Custom silk.
Hand-beaded bodice.
Sixteen thousand dollars.
She touched the fabric.
Her mother stood in the doorway.
“What are you going to do with it?”
Ashley thought.
“Not burn it.”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“Good.”
“Not keep it either.”
The next week Ashley donated the gown to a nonprofit that provided formalwear and emergency wedding assistance to women facing financial hardship.
Not because the dress was cursed.
Because she wanted something purchased for deception to have another life.
Simone heard about it through Renee.
For the first time, she understood Ashley’s response to betrayal.
Ashley did not destroy things.
She reassigned their meaning.
Simone looked at the industrial mixer Marcus had bought with Bennett money.
She called Darius.
“I want to repay the company for the mixer.”
“You were an innocent recipient.”
“I know.”
“You may not legally owe it.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to use it without thinking about him.”
Darius paused.
“We can discuss fair treatment after the audit.”
Simone nodded.
She understood.
Ownership was not only legal.
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Sometimes it was psychological.
And she wanted every inch of her life back.
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