A Reluctant Enterprise Read online

  Mommy took Sylvie by the hand and they walked out to the car. Mr. Carlsson held the backseat door open for them, and Sylvie hurried to scoot over to the right side of the seat. She didn’t want to sit next to Daddy, as he was in such a bad mood. Mommy said it was because his Uncle Stefan had just died. “You must forgive Daddy,” Mommy had said the previous evening as she tucked Sylvie in. “Uncle Stefan was like a father to him. Remember I told you your grandfather died in Hungary during World War II? Daddy was only three years old then. Your grandmother was so upset and sad. She let Uncle Stefan take care of Daddy until she felt better. Now when Uncle Stefan is dead, it’s the same for Daddy as if he lost his father.”

  “Again.” Sylvie had sort of understood. It was strange how someone could lose a father twice, but even if Daddy often scared her, she knew she would be sad if he died. Of this she was certain. When Daddy was in his best mood, he was so funny and took her into his library, where they looked at maps. He could tell her long stories about travels to foreign countries, and Sylvie knew she was a little bit like Daddy after all since she wanted to fly around the world or go by boat. Or train.

  Sylvie glanced at Daddy. He wasn’t happy right now. In fact, his face was so dark that it looked like he could never, ever be happy again. What if their pretend travels with the maps in the library were over? What if Daddy would be sad and angry forever? Mommy had told her Daddy would feel better soon, but the way her father spoke and looked at her, Sylvie wasn’t so sure. Placing her hands beneath her legs, she willed them to stop shaking by sitting on them.

  Afterward she barely remembered the long, wordy ceremony in the church, but she would never forget the sight of the casket being lowered into the ground. Daddy stood very close to the big hole, holding Sylvie’s hand so hard it hurt. For a moment, she thought he might throw her in after the big, wooden box where Uncle Stefan was resting. How could he be dead if he was resting? Was he alive in there? Had they checked to make sure?

  “Stop fidgeting,” Daddy hissed. “What’s the matter with you, child?”

  “Sorry, Daddy,” Sylvie whispered and looked behind them for her mother. She couldn’t see her. “Where’s Mommy?” she asked, desperate enough to overcome some of the shyness.

  “Hush. And didn’t I tell you to stand still?” Daddy squeezed her hand even harder.

  Now Sylvie wanted to get as far away from the hole with the big box as possible. She tugged at Daddy’s hand and he hissed at her again. This time he yanked her toward him so hard, she came dangerously close to the hole in the ground.

  And this time, she proved to her father she wasn’t a big girl after all as hot pee ran down her legs, ruining her socks and her beloved black, shiny shoes.

  *

  Manhattan—Present Day

  Aeron DeForest sighed inwardly.

  How strange. Such sad, tragic circumstances and she couldn’t feel a thing. A cold, wet blanket lay between her and the emotions she should be experiencing. She should cry, for sure, or at least feel cold with shock. Instead she was numb, and as the priest spoke about the stranger that had been her mother, she let her gaze fall upon the people across from her on the other side of her mother’s casket.

  Aeron recognized some of the people from when she was little. Mainly some of the staff at the condominium where she had lived with her mother most of her first eight years, and from the house in the Hamptons. Then she saw some of Maeve’s old friends, women who had aged, some gracefully, but most combatting time with nose jobs, facelifts, and collagen.

  Her eyes fell upon a woman most of the world would recognize. Noelle Laurent, soul-pop princess turned singer-song writer and married to the woman next to her, Helena Forsythe, business tycoon. Out and proud, the two women had been a hot commodity for the press, paparazzi, and bloggers for a couple of years.

  Next to the celebrities, a woman with chocolate-brown hair kept back in a twist stood regarding her with interest and—confusion? Who was that? Aeron hadn’t seen her before, not as a child and not before leaving Manhattan years ago. She would have remembered the piercing dark-blue eyes and the way this woman seemed to take in the world with her chin defiantly raised. Was she really one of Maeve’s friends? She didn’t seem the party-socialite type. In fact, she regarded the people on either side of Aeron with disdain.

  Having been back to New York for only a few days, Aeron wasn’t staying at Maeve’s condo, but at an unassuming hotel in Midtown. She’d heard from Maeve’s attorney, who would also serve as executor when it came to her mother’s will, that the house was never empty. Friends came and went, as Maeve had been generous with handing out keys and alarm codes. It was amazing someone hadn’t murdered her in her bed.

  Instead Maeve had died from driving into a tourist bus under the influence of cocaine and some designer drug. Nobody else was injured, but Maeve had suffered trauma to the chest and head, as she had not worn her seat belt. Apparently she had been alone in the car.

  The priest nodded to Aeron, who dutifully placed her white rose on the casket. She didn’t wait around. The rain had soaked straight through her clothes and was running along her spine in chilly rivulets. Making her way along the casket, she didn’t speak to anyone but left the large crowd to grieve—for real or to fake it, she didn’t care. When she reached the chauffeured town car she’d arrived in, the driver wasn’t there. No doubt he surmised she would stay for the duration of the ceremony. Not a chance. Aeron began to walk and pulled her cell phone from her coat pocket. She texted the driver that he could take off and consider himself done. She would simply walk to the closest subway entrance and return to her hotel that way.

  Tomorrow Mr. Hayes of Shaw, Hayes, & Walters would go through the will, and then Aeron would bid her childhood, such as it had been, farewell forever and go back to being A.D. Solo and writing her horror novels in her cabin in the Adirondacks.

  Shuddering, she folded her arms around her. Aeron hadn’t known her mother very well, as she had kept her distance ever since Maeve sent her to a private girls’ boarding school in Vermont and, later, upstate New York when she was eight. She spent all of the semesters there and Christmas and New Year’s mostly with Maeve’s household staff. Paulina, the cook and housekeeper, had been a buoy in the stormy sea that was life around Maeve.

  Something warmed Aeron’s cheeks despite the chilly rain. It took her a while to realize it was her tears. Huh. Imagine that. Tears for Maeve after all.

  Chapter Two

  Manhattan—1996

  “Is the child shy or is something, you know, wrong with her? She’s been standing there for a while now.” The short woman sitting next to Maeve on the couch wrinkled her nose and motioned toward Aeron.

  “What do you mean?” Maeve turned and frowned with impatience, but her glossy red lips still smiled. “Aeron? Why aren’t you in the kitchen with Paulina?”

  “Paulina says lunch is ready,” Aeron said and curtsied as Paulina had taught her. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses with pink roses on the skirt.

  “Oh, please, what was that? Do you think this is some old movie?” Maeve shooed at Aeron to leave before turning to her guests. “Come on. Last year I finally found a decent cook who also doesn’t mind babysitting Aeron.”

  Maeve and the short woman strode past Aeron, who now had her back pressed to the wall. She wasn’t sure if Maeve wanted her to go back to Paulina before they left the room or after.

  A dark-haired woman suddenly appeared at the patio door and said, “Well, I, for one, thought you did a good job.”

  Aeron jumped and began moving along the wall toward the kitchen. The dark-haired woman stepped closer, and now Aeron saw she was wearing a blue dress. Aeron had never met her before. The woman knelt before Aeron and extended her hand. “My name’s Hannah. I’m a friend of your mother. Why don’t you show me where we’re having lunch?”

  “In the dining room,” Aeron whispered and pointed.

  “Excellent. How old are you?”

  “Eight.” Her
voice grew a little stronger now, as she had seen Hannah’s kind eyes and began to relax at how gently she held Aeron’s hand. Not strong and jerky like Maeve when she pulled Aeron along behind her. Maeve was always late and in a hurry. When Aeron couldn’t keep up, Maeve tugged really hard at her.

  “Eight? You’re getting to be a big girl. Let’s go have some lunch.” Hannah simply began walking in that direction, still holding Aeron’s hand. “Are you in second grade?”

  “Yes. After the summer I’ll be in third.” Aeron’s stomach ached at the thought.

  Hannah squeezed her hand. “You don’t look too happy about that.”

  “I like the school I go to now.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Hannah looked like she really wanted to know. Like she cared.

  “I’m going to another school far away. In Vermont.”

  “Vermont? But—yes, that is far.” Hannah’s eyes darkened and she squeezed Aeron’s hand. “I see.”

  They entered the dining room, and Maeve looked up from where she sat at the head of the large, rectangular table. “Oh, please, Hannah. She’s not eating with us.”

  “Of course she is,” Hannah said and pulled out two chairs. “Here you go, honey.” She simply lifted Aeron up on the chair and nodded at Paulina, who came into the room carrying a tray. “We’ll need a plate for Aeron too, please.”

  Looking uncertain at Hannah’s request, Paulina paled and glanced at Maeve. “Madam?”

  Maeve shrugged. “Oh, why not? Hannah clearly has her heart set on playing the nanny.”

  “I’m sure Aeron is so well behaved she doesn’t need any nanny.” Hannah placed a napkin on Aeron’s lap and then ruffled her hair. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Aeron nodded and tried on a smile. In her heart she knew she would have to pay a price for Hannah’s kindness, as Maeve was the boss of the house. She told Aeron this often. She hardly ever referred to herself as Aeron’s mommy, but instead always claimed she was in charge. The boss. Right now, she allowed Aeron to sit at the table as if she mattered, and perhaps, if Aeron was lucky, Maeve’s mood wouldn’t fall once the short woman and Hannah had gone home. Perhaps she would forget about it and not send Aeron to bed without her dinner.

  When this happened, Paulina sometimes risked giving her something after Maeve left the house in the evening. On those rare occasions that Maeve stayed in, Paulina didn’t dare getting caught, and Aeron had to go to bed hungry. Perhaps she should sneak some bread rolls into her pockets just in case?

  “She looks like such a scared little bird,” the short woman said and leaned with her elbows on the table. Her smile seemed strange to Aeron. It showed a lot of teeth and made her think of an animal.

  Aeron didn’t dare look very long at the short woman. She had once overheard Maeve telling another friend she only kept this friend around because her sarcasm made her laugh. Aeron wasn’t sure what sarcasms were, but if they had anything to do with the short woman, she didn’t like them.

  Sitting next to Hannah was very different. This friend of her mother’s was nice and warm. Aeron was almost always right when her feelings told her things about another person. Like that girl, Greta, at the playground. She was so popular and always had at least ten other kids around her. When Aeron joined them at the swings, Greta immediately started whispering with the others, and soon they all moved to the slide or the trampoline.

  It didn’t take Aeron long to realize how much the other kids idolized and feared Greta. If someone objected to her ordering them around, she soon managed to turn the rest of her group of kids against them. They rarely talked back to her more than once. Aeron would never be accepted into Greta’s gang. She liked some of the kids hanging around with Greta, but for some reason, she was invisible to them when Greta was at the playground. And she wasn’t imagining all this. Aeron was used to being invisible.

  “Are you really sending this child away to boarding school at the age of eight?” Hannah spoke lightly, but Maeve’s eyes narrowed and Aeron cringed.

  “I can tell someone’s been telling tales.” She sent Aeron a sideways glance. “Actually, it’s a specialized school for children with Aeron’s needs. I’m rarely home and she needs more stimulation than poor Paulina has time for. This school, it’s in the countryside in Vermont, not far from Stowe. A charming family setting. They will help bring Aeron out of her shell. She can’t rule my empire one day if she doesn’t dare open her mouth.”

  Aeron sank back against the chair and lowered her head. Now they all knew something was wrong with her. Maeve had a long list she let Paulina take to the doctor when it was time for Aeron’s checkups. This list grew longer with each visit, and yet, every time Dr. Burke shook his head and scribbled something on his notepad. This made Maeve so very angry, and she sometimes yelled at Paulina for not doing her job. Sometimes Paulina cried, and Aeron once heard her say she would quit if it wasn’t for Aeron. She thought Maeve would fire Paulina for that, but instead she gave her the rest of the day off.

  “Still. She’s eight. She needs her mother.” Hannah put her arm around Aeron’s shoulders and squeezed lightly.

  Maeve’s eyes darkened and her voice trembled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Hannah didn’t continue but was very nice to Aeron the rest of the visit. Once they left, Maeve took Aeron and put her on her lap. “You do know I’m sending you to this school because it’s what’s best for you, pumpkin?” Maeve only called her pumpkin when she was in her best mood.

  “Yes, Maeve.” Aeron dared to rest her head against Maeve’s chest.

  “Hey, when we’re alone, you can call me Mommy. I’ve told you that.”

  It was hard for Aeron to remember this, and for the most part, she used her mother’s first name. “Mommy,” she whispered now, and the slow-burning glow of longing in her chest expanded. “Mommy.”

  “There you go.” Maeve held her close and actually hummed a song Aeron recognized from MTV. Her perfume, so familiar and what Maeve called her sig-na-ture scent, surrounded Aeron, and she closed her eyes and let her mother hold her. This didn’t happen a lot, and who knew when Maeve would feel like cuddling her again.

  Chapter Three

  Manhattan—Present Day

  Aeron walked into her mother’s lawyer’s office. It held a somber ambiance: all mahogany, dark-red carpets, crystal, and a faint trace of expensive cigars. It spoke of a long history of representing wealthy, influential clients. As for the five people present, including her, she wasn’t certain what she had expected, but not the dark-haired woman she’d observed at the funeral. Dressed in a dove-gray skirt suit and with her dark hair in a loose twist, she looked the part of a Manhattan businesswoman. Next to her, a young man sat taking notes as she murmured something inaudible to him.

  Behind them a woman in her sixties looked at Aeron with tears in her eyes. Aeron blinked. It had been too long. “Paulina?” She ignored everyone else and rounded the two in front of Maeve’s housekeeper and cook. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Aeron.” Paulina rose and hugged her. “I’m so sorry for your loss, sweetheart. I saw you at the funeral, but you left before I had a chance to give you my condolences. I didn’t attend the reception.”

  “Neither did I.” Aeron felt herself travel twenty-some years back in time. At one point, Paulina’s hugs and affection had been the one constant in her life. “Do you have time for coffee after this?”

  “I do. We’ll talk more later.” Paulina patted her cheek and retook her seat.

  As Aeron returned to her chair, she saw the dark-haired woman study her with guarded curiosity.

  “As we’re all here,” Mr. Hayes said after clearing his throat, “let’s get started. Ms. DeForest’s last will and testament is as simple as it is unorthodox. She recorded her will in 2009 to be played in the office in the event of her death.”

  Flinching, Aeron stared at the tall, lanky man as he raised his hand holding a remote. To her left, a large flat-screen TV flickered and a young-
looking Maeve smiled broadly at them.

  “Hello there! If you see this at dear Lucas’s office, it means I’ve somehow managed to get myself dead. I hope I was at least ninety-three, but if not, hmm, well, bummer.” Her voice, so chirpy and facetious, cut deep into Aeron’s chest.

  “Oh, God,” Aeron said and inhaled deeply. “I’m not sure—”

  “Especially my little Aeron, I hope you’re married to the man of your dreams with children and even grandchildren around your feet. I haven’t seen you in a few months. Or, it might actually been a year since you didn’t come home at Christmas, naughty girl.” Maeve shook her head, her blond, perfectly separated and styled curls bouncing around her stunning face. “I can’t imagine I’d leave this earth before you’re grown up and have a family of your own…that’s simply unseemly, if you ask me.” Her eyes seemed to darken, and she adjusted her gold statement necklace with unsteady fingers. She was clearly uncomfortable and struggled to remain her usual extravagant self.

  “Please…” Aeron tried to find her voice to ask “dear Lucas” to stop the recording, but her vocal chords failed her.

  “Paulina, if you’re here, my pillar of strength. You kept me fed and my homes in perfect condition for all these years. You were there for Aeron. I hope you still are. If I’m an old lady and you’ve passed on, your inheritance will go to your heirs.” Maeve paused and shifted and straightened her back. “Sylvie Thorn. I hope we’ve been business partners for many years when you see this. If our agreement has changed during the years, Lucas knows how to proceed. If we’re still on course with Classic Swedish Inc. and all our plans, then this part of the will still stands. So—here goes.” Maeve put on pink reading glasses and winked at the camera. “Aren’t these cute? I’m sure in the future, a long, long time from now, nobody wears these, but in 2009, reading glasses are still a must-have. So, all right, let’s get to it.