“Thank you, Grady Jr.” I smiled. “It’ll be good closure for you too.”
“You can call me Jr. And I hope this is the end, because your husband really did a number on our family,” he muttered over his shoulder as he walked up to a beat up, two-toned car that was so used I couldn’t even make out the maker. But I sure did notice the paper tag on the back that was a sign it was new to him.
Just another reminder of how Paul had changed many lifestyles and this young boy was no different.
FOURTEEN
Paul wasn’t joking when he’d tell me stories about the Cox’s house. Whenever Paul told a tale about people who had a lot more money than we did, I thought maybe he was stretching the truth a little to be more humble himself, but this was not the case.
The sprawling acres of the greenest grass, black Kentucky fence-posts, and grazing horses was just the front of the property after I’d driven through the gate where Jr. had punched in a code.
There were people on mowers, trackers, and all sorts of equipment I didn’t recognize. In the distance, I could see what appeared to be a race track where men were mounted on big brown horses and riding them. Some were at a trots pace, while others were full speed ahead. It was a working race horse farm just like Paul had said. It was probably the only thing he was truthful about in our marriage.
The barns were luxurious on the outside and looked exactly like the house we’d pulled up in front of minus the grand marble staircase leading up to the double front doors.
“This is where you live?” I gawked after we’d parked and I’d gotten out.
“One more week here.” His voice cracked. “We can’t afford it now.” He took his cap off his head and ran his hand through his hair. “No thanks to Paul West.”
“Where will you go?” I asked.
“Honey, can you come in and give me a hand with the boxes from your bedroom? The movers will be here in a minute.” Ava Cox stood at the front door in a pair of leggings and red baggy top that hung off her right shoulder. Her long black and curly hair was pulled to the side over her left shoulder. Her olive skin was just as beautiful as I’d remembered it, though the brown circles under her eyes told me It’d been a long few months. It was funny the weird stuff you remember about people and I remember Paul telling me that I’d love Ava because she was younger than Grady.
“Hi.” She trotted down the steps like one of her fine horses. “You must be with Brighton Interiors.” She outreached her hand. “Thank you for taking the time to come look at the paintings.”
“Mom,” Jr. tried to stop her.
“I’m sure you’ll find they’re in mint condition and rare.” She was selling me, even though I couldn’t afford the gas to get them back to Normal.
“Mom!” Jr. stopped her again. “This isn’t the lady from the interior place. It’s Mae West, Paul’s wife.”
“Ex.” I was really getting tired of correcting people. Maybe I needed a sign to pin on me or one of those fancy necklaces that women wore with their name, but I’d say Paul’s EX wife.
“What do you want?” The sweet southern hospitality I’d received when she thought I was the interior chick had completely left every bone in her body “Why did you bring her here?” she demanded of Jr.
“Ava,” I gulped because the look she gave me when I used her name was one that told me I’d almost crossed the line. “If I may call you Ava,” I said again relieved not to be smacked by her. “I came to town to actually talk to you, scorned woman to scorned woman.”
“My husband didn’t scorn me,” she was quick to retort.
“No, but my husband did both of us wrong and I’m trying to make things right,” I said.
“Then I’ll take fourteen million dollars in cash.” She nodded and when I didn’t say anything, she said, “I didn’t think so. Get her out of here before I call the police.” She turned and walked back up the stairs.
“Please. Just a minute of your time and I’ll leave forever. Please,” I begged.
“Mom, just hear what she has to say. If you don’t, then we can’t move on from all the thoughts and questions in our head.” Jr. did the sideways walking next to her, almost tripping on the top step. “You said that if she were ever in front of you, you’d let her have it.”
My eyes grew big.
“Now’s you’re chance. That’s why I brought her here.” He jumped in front of the double doors to block them. “Let her have it.” He socked one fisted hand in his palm.
“Fine,” she said, pushing Jr. aside and going in to the house.
“Come on.” He gestured to me.
“She’s not going to really let me have it, is she?” I asked slowly walking up the steps.
“No.” He actually smiled. “Though it’d be funny.”
Jr. was actually starting to grow on me. I remember I’d found him in our pool house at the reception after the actual wedding reception with some booze he took from the bar. He was clearly underage. He begged me not to tell his parents. Luckily, I’d gotten there before he did too much damage and I kept his secret, taking the rest of the booze with me.
“Remember I found you, I kept that secret,” I reminded him.
“Yeah. That’s why I brought you. You’re not so bad, maybe bad taste in men, but not a bad person.” His jaw finally softened as well as his eyes, uncovering the deep hurt that was so clear in them now.
“I am sorry,” I wanted him to know that.
“I know,” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “The kitchen is that way and if I know my mom, she probably taking one of those fancy coffee cakes out the freezer to defrost that she keeps in there for just in case company.”
“I could use some of that right now.” I patted his arm and walked back to where he’d pointed.
I didn’t want to comment on how amazing her home was because I knew it was no longer her home, but the FBI’s.
“I’m sorry.” I looked around the custom kitchen. It had all the bells and whistle no one ever needed. I could relate. All the marble, designer cabinets, buttons that made things come out of the counter and hide back down. I looked around at the walk-in butler pantry with all the Kitchen Aide appliances along with all the spices and ingredients. Even the lighting was fit for a palace with all the crystals or maybe they were diamonds. The large wall of glass was just a visual reminder of the horse farm right outside of these walls. “I just went through this.”
“I want to tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not there yet.” She took a plate out of the microwave that had the fancy coffee cake on it. “But I’m a southern lady, and I can swallow my pride to have a few of my questions answered.” She put the plate on the island. “I wish I could offer you a seat, but they’ve been taken along with the rest of my furniture.”
“I’m fine.” The pastry did make my mouth water.
“How did you not know your husband was doing this?” she wasted no time with pleasantries.
“He went to work, came home at decent hours. There were never any luxury gifts or vacations.” I reached for a slice and put it on a napkin she’d practically thrown at me. Under her trying to be tough exterior, I knew there was a lot of hurt inside. “I went to play tennis, had a few women’s clubs and friends.”
Those friends left rather quickly after the FBI raid.
“Rather acquaintances.” I changed my words.
“Yes. I’ve been looking for different words to call those same people. Funny how when you’ve got money, people adore you.” She took the words out of my mouth, so I finished her thought.
“And run when you’re broke.” I smiled.
“Exactly.” She leaned her hip against the counter and folded her arms. “I don’t hold ill feelings towards you and I know he took you for everything too, but how are you going to live with yourself knowing how many lives he’s ruined?”
“That’s why I’m here.” I sucked in a deep breath. “The only thing the FBI didn’t take was a small campground in Normal.”
“Normal?” She bent back, pressing her lips together. “Grady lived in Normal one summer while we were in college.”