Things We Never Say (33 page)

‘I don’t think you’d stay awake,’ Claudia said. ‘But thank you for offering.’

‘It’s the least I can do. You keep looking after me and I know it must be a pain for you.’

‘Of course it isn’t,’ said Pete.

‘Poor Claudia didn’t sign up to looking after me,’ said Abbey.

‘Hey, I don’t know what impressions you got about people when you were in Ireland, but we have family values here,’ said Pete. ‘Claudia cares about you as much as I do.’

‘When Pete married me, he knew Grady was part of my package,’ said Claudia. ‘And I knew that you were part of Pete’s package.’

‘But here’s the thing.’ Abbey looked seriously at both of them. ‘I’m not part of your package at all. Not yours, Claudia, or yours, Pete. You’ve both been nothing but wonderful to me, but you’re not my family and you shouldn’t have to care about me. The trouble is that the people who are … well, I don’t matter to them.’

‘Oh, sweetie, don’t upset yourself.’ Claudia put her arm around Abbey’s shoulders. ‘As far as we’re concerned, you’re part of the Caruso family. And you always will be.’

Which was all very well, thought Abbey later that night. But she wasn’t a Caruso. She wasn’t a Connolly. She wasn’t a Fitzpatrick. And she wasn’t really an Andersen either. Despite the fact that she’d tried to put down roots for herself, she was someone who could be anyone. Because she didn’t matter very much to any of the people who were actually related to her by blood. And that was something she’d have to learn to live with. No matter how abandoned it sometimes made her feel.

When Abbey finally went to bed, she fell asleep almost instantly. On opening her eyes the following morning, she was wide awake and refreshed, so despite the fact that it was only six thirty, she pulled on the guest robe that hung on the back of the bedroom door and made her way downstairs. The sun was barely rising and the ocean was still wreathed in mist as she stood by the kitchen window and drank a glass of orange juice. Because it was Saturday, the family still hadn’t woken, although during the week Pete was usually in his office before seven thirty.

She made herself a coffee and was sitting at the breakfast bar with it when Claudia walked into the room. She too was dressed in a robe, and her brunette hair was pulled into a lazy ponytail. She looked younger than her forty years, although without the make-up she normally wore, the fine lines that were beginning to appear on her face were more evident.

‘I hope I didn’t wake you,’ said Abbey.

‘Of course not,’ said Claudia. ‘I’m an early riser. You get to be when you’re a mom.’

‘I bet.’

‘You wake up and then you start thinking about your family and you can’t go back to sleep,’ added Claudia.

‘You have a great family,’ said Abbey.

‘I know. And I meant what I said last night. That I accept that Pete looks on you as a daughter.’

Claudia’s words were warm, but Abbey could hear a certain guardedness in her voice.

‘He’s always been great to me,’ she said. ‘But I know I can’t depend on him for ever.’

‘Exactly.’ Claudia looked suddenly relieved. ‘And that’s why, Abbey, you have to fight for this inheritance and not let those horrible people persuade you out of it.’

‘I can understand why the Fitzpatricks are angry, though. It’s their house, not mine. Not Mom’s.’

‘Yes, but their father already helped them in life,’ said Claudia. ‘It’s their tough luck if they didn’t make the most of it.’

‘I guess so.’

‘How many chances do they want?’ demanded Claudia. ‘You get one, you take full advantage. You know that.’

‘I do know,’ agreed Abbey. ‘It’s just that sometimes you don’t always grab the opportunity when you should.’

‘Exactly.’ Claudia spoke firmly. ‘And you’ve got to grab this opportunity. Besides …’ She looked at Abbey from her big hazel eyes. ‘Pete has done something for you and I admire him for it, but it has to be the end of it.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘He acted rashly. A trait he usually manages to keep under control, but when he heard about your situation …’

‘What the hell did he do?’ asked Abbey. ‘What’s it got to do with me?’

‘Pete bought an apartment for you,’ replied Claudia.

‘He what!’ Abbey stared at her in shock.

‘Well, he said he was buying it as an investment. But then he told me it was for you to live in until you got your money from the house. He said you needed somewhere decent to live. He thinks that after you collect your inheritance you can buy it from him, if that’s what you’d like to do.’

‘Is he nuts? If my mom refuses to accept it, if it all goes pear-shaped for me – I’ll never be able to buy it.’

‘I know,’ said Claudia grimly.

‘But … but … what was he thinking?’ demanded Abbey. ‘Why on earth would he go out and buy somewhere and think that I’d even want to buy it from him afterwards?’

‘It was a foreclosure and he had the inside track on it so he acted real quick. But he’s using his heart, not his head. He said he knew that you’d want this apartment.’

‘I can’t believe this,’ said Abbey. ‘He’s lost his mind, surely.’

‘Who has?’

Pete walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a grey leisure suit which didn’t entirely hide the few extra pounds he’d put on over the years, weight that Claudia was determined he should lose.

‘Claudia was telling me about the apartment,’ said Abbey. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘I agree it was a bit of a left-field move,’ said Pete. ‘But when I saw it, I couldn’t pass it up. And don’t look at me like that, Abbey Andersen. I know you’ll want it.’

‘Where is it?’ asked Abbey.

‘Dolores,’ said Pete.

‘Oh.’

‘The Torreblanca building.’

‘Oh,’ said Abbey again.

‘Apartment number 12.’

‘Pete!’

It was the apartment she’d lived in with her mom when they’d first come to San Francisco. At the time, the district had been a bit tired and rough around the edges, so they’d been able to afford the rental of the two-bedroom unit. Both the area and the building had undergone considerable gentrification over the past years, and it was now a very desirable place to live. She would never have been able to buy an apartment there because the prices were unaffordable on her pay – even the rentals were outside her budget. But now Pete had done this and he was telling her that she could live in the place where she’d felt the most secure in her whole life. And that she could buy it from him when she could afford it.

But she couldn’t. Not without accepting everything that Fred had left her. Possibly not even then. Pete was crazy. It was unworkable.

Except she desperately wanted to live in number 12 again. It was the one place she’d always considered home.

‘Oh, Pete … I’m not sure about this.’ She looked at him with worry in her eyes.

‘Abbey, sweetheart, it’s time you took the bull by the horns,’ said Pete. ‘You’ve got to do something with your life, make something of it. And you’re getting the opportunity now.’

‘Seems to me that you’re forcing me into it,’ said Abbey. ‘And forcing me to be part of the fight over Mr Fitzpatrick’s legacy, because you know I’d need every last cent for that apartment.’

‘You need forcing,’ said Pete. ‘You’re too nice and kind and … well, I hate to say it, but you’re passive, Abbey. You don’t go after something, you wait for it to come to you. You could set up your own nail bar, but you’re happy to stay at the Mariposa, letting Selina take a cut from your earnings. I’ve heard the girls in my office talking about you – they think you’re a genius.’

‘I don’t—’

‘Genius,’ repeated Pete firmly. ‘That you can do things with nails nobody else can. That you make them feel beyond fabulous. But you don’t sell yourself like that.’

‘I don’t want to sell myself at all,’ said Abbey. ‘It’s not who I am.’

‘I know,’ Pete told her. ‘That’s your mother in you. But you’ve got to change, Abbey. We live in a world where you have to make the most of yourself, otherwise people will trample all over you. And I’ve seen lesser talents do better than you.’

‘You keep an eye on the nail business?’ Abbey asked.

‘I keep an eye on every business,’ said Pete. ‘C’mon, honey. You need to ramp up your act a bit. And Fred Fitzpatrick is giving you the opportunity to do it.’

‘So you think I should take my share, buy an apartment I can’t really afford and set up in business for myself?’

‘Now you’ve got it,’ said Pete.

‘I can’t, Pete. I …’ She looked at him helplessly.

‘Yes you can. Abbey, you can shoot for the stars, make lots of money, live a great life. It’s the American way.’

‘My mom doesn’t live her life that way.’

‘Your mom is a whack-job,’ said Claudia.

Abbey stared at her.

‘I’m sorry, but it has to be said.’ Claudia tightened the belt of her robe around her waist. ‘How many women would abandon their own daughter to join a monastery, for heaven’s sake. It’s not natural.’

‘Claudia.’ Pete looked anxiously at his wife.

‘You’ve said it yourself,’ said Claudia. ‘She broke your heart and Abbey’s heart too. Only a fruitcake would do that.’

Abbey said nothing. She was wondering how many times Pete and Claudia had talked about her and her mother. And if Pete truly believed that Ellen was crazy.

‘Look, Abbey.’ Pete took her hands in his. ‘Maybe Claudia is being a bit … forthright … but she’s nailed one thing. Living the way your mom does, doing what your mom did by walking out on you – and me – isn’t … isn’t the usual way of getting on with life.’

‘Unless you’ve got a vocation,’ said Abbey. ‘Unless you believe that God has called you.’

‘But very few people have that belief or that calling.’ Pete was choosing his words carefully. ‘And just because you don’t have it doesn’t mean that you have to live the kind of life you seem to think your mom would want you to live.’

‘I’m not!’ she cried. ‘Far from it. You know what she thought about the beauty business.’

‘Yes, and I think that’s why you haven’t given it your best shot.’

‘That’s nonsense!’

‘Is it?’

Abbey’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t know. Pete and Claudia had completely confused her with their comments. In some ways, she wasn’t surprised at what Claudia thought. But Pete – she’d always believed that he was on her side. Only he wasn’t, was he? He thought that Ellen was mad and that she herself was a hopeless idiot.

‘Abbey.’ Pete’s voice was gentle as he released his hold on her. ‘Your mom would want you to grasp the opportunity. What was that Bible story – you know, the one about the man who buried his talents, which wasn’t what God wanted at all.’

‘I didn’t know you were into Bible study,’ said Abbey.

‘I remember some of it,’ Pete told her.

‘The talent you’re talking about now, though, is the talent for accepting money from someone I didn’t even know existed,’ protested Abbey.

‘To kick-start your own talents,’ said Pete. ‘And maybe to allow you some time to develop others.’

‘What others?’

‘Like your painting.’

‘Stop with the painting stuff,’ she said. ‘We already agree that I’m good but not brilliant. And you need to be brilliant.’

‘Who says? You set yourself impossible standards like that, you’re always going to fail.’

‘Oh Pete …’ She buried her head in her hands. ‘I’m so mixed up. I don’t know what’s right any more.’

‘Move into the apartment,’ said Pete. ‘We’ll work out a rental until you’ve got your inheritance. And don’t feel guilty about him having left it to you. Allow yourself to have some good things in your life.’

‘I do have good things,’ she protested.

‘Have fun,’ Pete told her. ‘Have fun and don’t worry.’

But that, thought Abbey, was a lot easier for him to say than for her to do.

Lisette was in the living room of Furze Hill. Given that the house was going to be unoccupied for a considerable amount of time, she’d asked Alex if she could look after the maintenance. After all, she’d said, no point in it falling into disrepair. Alex had consulted the rest of the family, including Abbey Andersen, before agreeing that Lisette could call in once a week to make sure that everything was OK. It annoyed her considerably that she’d had to have everyone else’s permission to do something she’d done on a regular basis when Fred was alive. It annoyed her even more that she might be doing this on behalf of the hitherto unknown Americans. But Lisette still loved Furze Hill, and she couldn’t bear to think of it damp and dusty and uncared for.

Her first task had been to check Fred’s den for any other wills. Gareth had come with her, but they hadn’t found anything, even though they’d opened literally every drawer in his desk. They had, however, found sheaves of the heavy parchment he’d used to draw up the one leaving the house to Abbey and Ellen. The following day, Don and Zoey had rummaged around the den too, but had also come up empty-handed. They had all had to reluctantly agree that Fred’s ridiculous will really was his last one, and that they had no option, therefore, but to contest it.

Now, having spent the last couple of weeks cleaning and tidying, Lisette walked through the rooms of the house, unable to clamp down on her usual dream of what she’d do to it if it were hers. Open it out, she thought. Replace the heavy drapes with something more modern. Change the kitchen. Let in the light. Only she’d never get the chance to do any of it, would she, because she’d never be the chatelaine of Furze Hill.

She stood at the patio windows and looked out over the garden. What Fred had done was wrong, she thought furiously. He must have known how much it would upset them. So why the hell had he done it? Of course he hadn’t expected to die so suddenly. Maybe he’d intended to show the stupid will to Donald or Gareth, use it to influence them in some way and then change it back. That would’ve been typical, in a way, of Fred. He liked to have his children exactly where he wanted them. Regardless of his ultimate intentions, however, he’d left behind a nuclear bomb.

She went over to the large display cabinet in the corner of the room where the majority of the silver pieces were kept. The silver pieces that were supposedly hers, although she couldn’t have them while everything was still up in the air. She took out a small snuff box and a set of six bishop’s spoons. Of all of the items, these were the only ones that she truly liked. The snuff box, oblong and carved with what seemed like unfurling leaves around a navy blue glass container, was distinctive and eye-catching and reminded her of a bygone age. She’d always liked the spoons, each with a carving of a bishop’s head on the handle, even though they probably weren’t worth anything. Fred’s personal legacy to her was a pittance as far as the overall estate was concerned. But it was her pittance and she wanted to bring it home. It annoyed her that she couldn’t, especially as nobody would actually miss the snuff box or the spoons. Lisette doubted that there was a single person in the family that knew they even existed. It wouldn’t matter if she took them.