All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2) (82 page)

~•~

To: Richard Ashmore

From: Thomas Maitland

No. No, no, and no again.

Lucy is pregnant, Richard. You know what happened. You know what she’s gone through. I’ve heard the whole convoluted story, and we will discuss your “not remotely sexual” encounter with Francie later, when I’ve had a chance to cool down.

I don’t care if Francie is alive, dead, or living in a cave on Mars. I don’t care if she tried to kill Diana, you, Laura, or the man in the moon. I care about my wife, and I care about that baby she’s carrying.

If you want to find Francie, go to Seattle yourself. But not until the divorce is over. I don’t want you near her until we settle Diana’s hash.

Look, I hate telling people how to run their lives, but I have to tell you, you are living dangerous days. If Diana finds out, you’re going to pay, and so is Laura. The smartest thing either of you has done in weeks is her taking herself out of state.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Laura. She’s a nice girl. It doesn’t take a genius to see that she wins hands down over Diana. But you need to tread lightly until we have a signed settlement in hand. That includes Laura, and that sure as hell includes Miss Radioactive out there in Washington State.

So stay out of Seattle until I tell you otherwise.

Tom

~•~

To: Thomas Maitland

From: Richard Ashmore

Understood.

BETWEEN US: I did not lie to you about my encounter with Francie in August 1991. Lucy has the story wrong, but – believe me – it’s better than the truth. So let her think what she does. I will not say anything beyond that.

I’m sending Lucy an email.

Richard

~•~

To: Lucy Maitland

From: Richard Ashmore

Lucy,

I’m calling off the search. Cease and desist. I do not want you endangering your health.

Richard

~•~

To: Richard Ashmore, Thomas Maitland

From: Lucy Maitland

I am not speaking to either of you until further notice.

The pregnant one with a brain as well as a uterus!!!

~•~

In Berkeley, the owner/editor/writer/designer of the country’s most notorious right-wing web site picked up the nugget from the Boston station when a regular reader forwarded a link to him. Normally, he didn’t post show biz gossip, but this had the 9/11 connection – the grieving widow, the big business interests, the kind of delicious immorality that whipped the family values groups into a frenzy. And it had been a slow news weekend. No celebrities had murdered their wives; al Qaeda hadn’t attacked; even the politicians had shut up after wrapping themselves in the flag.

He did a couple of minutes of research, surfing to Amy Stewart’s linked message and then Googling Richard Ashmore, Laura St. Bride, and Cat Courtney. He rewrote Jake’s web entry for conciseness and clarity, swiped Amy’s picture of Cat Courtney, and queued the entire entry on the regular publication schedule for 10:00 p.m.

~•~

The house was still and silent. For the first time in days, Richard got some real work done.

He spent a fruitful evening alone, writing his lecture for UVA the next morning, punctuated by calls to his partner to discuss a wiring problem with the library and the never-ending foundation challenges of the Charleston project. He ignored Max’s plaintive pouting for a mid-evening snack. “Listen, she told me not to pay any attention,” he told the wide-eyed cat, and damned if the beast didn’t seem to understand. Max stalked off with his tail in the air, presenting his best side to the heartless tyrant determined to starve a poor helpless kitty to death.

His phone remained silent. He decided not to call.

When he finished the lecture, he opened up his email, and began to write.

~•~

Laura could not put it off any longer. She had delayed as long as she could, waiting for Meg to go to bed, sitting at the ornate desk in the suite’s library to make a list of everything she needed to do the next day, and staring at her phone, trying to summon up the nerve to press that speed dial button.

Ridiculous. This was the man she loved. The man who had said,
Let me do this for you
. The man who had marched Mark St. Bride off Ashmore Park for her. The man who had sought her out in the garden, respecting her need to grieve. Surely, he wouldn’t get upset over a little thing like her running off to another state without telling him, would he?

A sound from her laptop – a newly arrived email. She glanced at the screen, grateful for the delay, and received her answer.

Yes, he would indeed get upset over a little thing like that.

~•~

To: Laura St. Bride

From: Richard Ashmore

Dear Laura:

I trust this is the last time you are ever going to run away from me.

I decided not to call tonight because we both have some thinking to do, and a few days apart will give us the time and space to do that thinking. I’m tired and not very happy at the moment, and we should not talk until I’ve gotten some sleep.

Know this up front. I am not upset that you have gone to West Virginia with Meg. In light of yesterday and the discovery of your husband’s remains, it’s a good idea. I understand that you and Meg need to mourn and that I have no place in that mourning.

However, I also understand why you did not wait until I got home from church to tell me. I will tell you bluntly: Coming home to find a note that you are gone does not sit well with me. The message it sent came through loud and clear, but not the message you intended to send.

We’re equals, Laura. You are an adult. I told you last week,
I don’t want to control you
. I am not Cameron St. Bride. I am not interested in telling you how to live your life or raise your child or deal with his family. I will help you in any way you want, but those are your decisions to make.

Diana has always claimed that I wanted to control her, but nothing could have been further from the truth. I never wanted an adjunct or a slave. I never wanted a clone of my mother. I only wanted a marriage as good as theirs, and to this day, I don’t think I asked too much. I wanted someone I could depend on. I wanted a partner.

My parents got it right. Obviously I got it all wrong with Diana, but I do not intend to get it wrong with you. You’ve been curious as to what happened between her and me. While I do not intend to discuss that – ever – I will tell you that I came home one day to find her writing a note, preparing to leave. So I’ve had the experience of a woman walking out on me, and frankly, I don’t care to repeat it.

I love you. You wanted the words – there they are. You wanted a relationship with me – you’ve got it. But that confers certain obligations on us both, and one of those is not disappearing without notice. If you’ll recall, I wanted something from you too – a promise that you would not leave.

We may have love, but we don’t have trust. That has to change. I am here for you. I wasn’t fourteen years ago, to my everlasting regret, but I am now, and I am not going anywhere. I need to know you are here for me too.

So take this time to get done what you need to do. When you return, we have to have a long, serious talk about what we want from each other.

I hope this is not unnecessarily blunt or harsh. I’m leveling with you because you can take it. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I pity Mark St. Bride – the man has no idea what he unleashed yesterday. There’s no fiercer creature than a lioness protecting her cub.

I took Julie down to North Carolina this afternoon, and we had a good talk. You won’t encounter any more sullenness or defiance from that quarter.

I’ll be in Charlottesville most of tomorrow. I’ll call you in the evening. If Meg needs help with her math, tell her to email me.

Get some rest. Enjoy the Greenbrier – I attended a conference there a few years ago and thoroughly enjoyed it. Do what you have to, and then come home to me.

Richard

~•~

9:50 p.m. on the West Coast:

Amy Stewart’s father sat down at his computer to wade through the emails that had piled up during his weekend fishing in the San Juans. He finally read the frantic email from his daughter, asking him to remove her post from the family message board. He immediately went to the board, entered his administrative password, and deleted her message.

Just another Internet ghost. Here one minute, gone the next.

~•~

12:59 a.m. on the East Coast:

In Williamsburg, Lucy Maitland slept, her back turned to her husband.

In Williamsburg, Brian Schneider lay awake, unable to get that prom picture out of his mind.

Outside Williamsburg, Richard Ashmore left his house for his second run of the night.

In North Carolina, Julie Ashmore sat in the dark in front of one of the dorm computers, trying to frame a conciliatory email to her cousin.

In Hampton, Diana Ashmore came in from an unusually busy night at the club, collapsed across her bed, and fell asleep within seconds.

In West Virginia, Laura St. Bride tossed and turned, alternatively staring up at the ceiling and getting up to read, again, her very first love letter from Richard Ashmore. She was trying to decide if he was genuinely angry or merely irritated when her daughter crawled into bed with her, face wet with tears.

~•~

11:59 p.m. in Texas:

In Plano, after consuming a bottle of whiskey, Mark St. Bride fell asleep.

~•~

9:59 p.m. on the West Coast:

Dr. David Montgomery unlocked his front door and stepped into the entry way, just as his wife came down the stairs. He had dealt with a four-car accident, a liquor-store shooting, a prostitute knifing, three deaths, and various civilian injuries during his shift, and he was physically and mentally exhausted. A moment later, as the grandfather clock struck ten, he forgot all that. He settled down to a late-night pizza and listened as his wife told him that three-year-old Lily had played Chopsticks all by herself.

~•~

10:00 p.m. on the West Coast:

The story appeared at the lower right corner of the screen in the news site’s signature plain black type:

Singer Cat Courtney Unmasked,

Widow of 9/11 Tycoon,

Other Woman in Family Divorce

And there it sat for less than 30 seconds before it was read.

~•~

End of Ashmore’s Folly Trilogy: Book Two

To be concluded in:

All That Burns the Dark

Ashmore’s Folly Trilogy: Book Three

~•~

Author’s Notes and Acknowledgments

At the end of
All Who Are Lost
, I included a lengthy historical and architectural note now posted on the Ashmore’s Folly site at
http://ashmoresfolly.com/ashmores-folly-trilogy/all-who-are-lost/authors-note-book-one/
. Most of the information stated in that note is also germane to
All That Lies Broken
, but in the interest of not making this book any longer or heavier than it already is, I won’t repeat it here!

I also included a bibliography for the trilogy, now posted at
http://ashmoresfolly.com/ashmore-extras/bibliography/
.

QR codes for each are at the end of this note.

~•~

This novel refers to several laws concerning divorce and mandatory reporting of wounds in Virginia and the laws of inheritance and community property in Texas. My thanks to the attorneys who lent me their expertise. Any mistakes are my own.

•
   
The Virginia statute regarding the mandatory reporting of non-self-inflicted gunshot wounds, referenced by Lucy Maitland, can be found in the Code of Virginia at 54.1-2967.

•
   
The Virginia laws pertaining to divorce can be found in the Code of Virginia, Title 20, Chapter 6.

•
   
The community property laws in Texas and laws concerning gifts between spouses can be found in the Texas Family Code, Title 1: The Marriage Relationship, Subtitle B: Property Rights and Liabilities, Chapter 3: Marital Property Rights and Liabilities.