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He wanted more time with Angelina. He did. He just didn t know...how.
Mary took her last fifty-two dollars and twenty-three cents and went shopping.
Even though all the produce she d ordered from the home delivery grocery had been
fresh, she wanted to pick out the strawberries she would serve Jacob with her own two
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Leanne Karella
hands. A bar of extraordinarily expensive dark chocolate came next. And a bottle of fresh
cream. Funny, she d never seen whipping cream come in a bottle before, but these New
York people were funny, weren t they?
There was more to Jacob Stone than money, though. After last night, and what she d
seen in his eyes, he was not a happy man. For hours she d lain awake in her big bed,
wondering what demons he fought. Wondering what hold his mother held over him.
Wondering why, when he did spend time with Angel, it was at opposite sides of the
room, each of them reading silently. Jacob from his files, Angel from The Babysitter s
Club.
To Mary, that wasn t family time. That was we live in the same house and should be
somewhat sociable time. It made her so sad. There had to be something she could say or
do to help father and daughter connect. If only Eunice would stay out of the picture. Even
though he d said he d speak with his mother, Mary doubted it would do any good. She
feared Mrs. Brocton had been correct in saying he tended to put his mother on a pedestal.
He defended her actions and words even as he obviously knew they hurt Angel.
Mr. Jacob Stone needed to make a decision. Mary hoped with all her heart he would
choose his daughter.
In an overly expensive bookstore, Mary found a cookbook with detailed pictures and
recipes: Gourmet Meals in Minutes. That sounded good. The glossy back cover promised
it to be the best cookbook for gourmet cooking for busy weeknights.
With the book tucked under her arm, the bag from the gourmet grocery of organic
strawberries, Swiss chocolate and fresh cream, and only a few cents left to her name, she
headed home.
Jacob rang the buzzer of his mother s apartment, hoping he d made it early enough
that she hadn t gone up to the penthouse yet.
Sigmund, his mother s butler, answered the door.  Mr. Stone, the tall, thin, white-
haired Englishman said with a slight bow.
 Is my mother in?
 Yes, sir. She s in her sitting room. He held out his hand in a gesture of welcome.
His mother s apartment was about half the size of his. She shared the forty-ninth
floor of the building with one other tenant, a retired shipping magnate and his wife. She d
seemed pleased with her accommodations at first, but after Jacquelyn died, she d hinted
at moving in with him. Back then, he d been worried about finding suitable care for his
infant daughter, but at least he d been intelligent enough to refuse her  offer of help.
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COURAGE TO BELIEVE
Jacob headed through the social room into his mother s private rooms.  Hello,
Mother, he said quietly as he sat down on the white floral print lounging chair across
from where she sat on the matching Queen Anne sofa.
Her rooms were bright and loaded with priceless antiques, unlike his private rooms.
He liked the earthy feel of suede, the glow of a soft lamp, and the slight scent of wood
smoke from the river rock fireplace. His mother s own hearth was made of white marble
and had never felt the warmth of a fire.
 Jacob, she said, setting the Architectural Digest she d been reading aside.  To
what do I owe this visit?
Her voice was cool, as if she already knew why he was there. He d spent the entire
day trying to find the right words to use, to not offend.
 I need to speak to you about Angelina. He leaned forward and laced his fingers
together.  About how much is said in front of her.
His mother s lips pressed together in a tight line, her eyes narrowed a bit. She folded
her hands demurely in her lap.
Jacob didn t know what to say. How to say it. Part of him was furious that she
wouldn t understand the importance of what he was asking. Part of him felt so sorry for
her. After his father s will had been read, he d offered to sign over some of the assets.
The house in the Hamptons, the apartment in one of his father s first buildings. She d
refused. Told him that if his father had wanted her to have them, he would have left them
to her. And then began her decline into the shell of the woman she d once been.
 You must think of Angelina s feelings before you speak of Jacquelyn, he blurted
out. No, he hadn t had the best marriage in the world. Angelina had been conceived with
the idea of saving the marriage. But she d been Angelina s mother. He never wanted [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]