For a moment, Lizzie considered running for the bathroom to throw up.
Even eyed the way down the hall.
Sean had said he wasn’t seeing anyone else in Manhattan and she believed him. He might be a terrible judge of character, but she knew instinctively he wasn’t a liar.
He just hadn’t waited long at all to move on.
And what a beautiful woman he’d picked. She looked like a model. Except for her jewelry. Those rubies marked her as a queen.
Lizzie stood and went to her bedroom. Opening up the closet, she pulled out a bag and started to pack for an overnight. It had been a while since she’d been up to see her mother and now was a terrific time to get out of this apartment.
***
Chapter Seventeen
Six weeks later, Billy O’Banyon sat in a lawyer’s office in Southie and wanted to be just about anywhere else on the planet. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help Sean out with settling their father’s accounts and whatnot. He just hated being around all the books and the paperwork and the kind of people who were confident with writing and reading.
The printed word and him were not friends and anytime he got into situations like this, he always felt like the stupid idiot his father had told him he was.
But whatever. He was going to be out of here and back in the gym within the hour. As their father’s will was uncontested and going through probate quickly enough, this wasn’t going to be a long meeting. All he had to do was deliver some unpaid bills to the lawyer who was the estate’s executor and discuss how the deed transfer and house vacating were going to go.
Actually, being here was his own fault. He could easily have mailed the stuff or dropped it off, but he was a man with a mission. He wanted to run into Lizzie Bond and this was the only acceptable excuse he had.
Sean had been in a bad way for the past month and a half, ever since those two had broken it off. Naturally he wouldn’t talk much about what had happened, so Billy wanted to see how the other side was doing. If Lizzie came in looking as if she’d been run over by a John Deere, as well, he was going to get involved. The pair had been good together and sometimes people needed a little nudge to get back on track.
Just call him a romantic. Who happened to be able to bench press five hundred pounds.
“The other party is on their way.”
Billy looked up at the voice. The guy who walked into the room was dressed in a gray suit and had a lot of files in his hand. The glasses he wore were more practical than stylish, but they made him look intelligent. Then again, he probably looked that way with contacts, too.
Billy shook the hand that was offered to him and the attorney sat down. With utter nonchalance, the guy started flipping through a file, his eyes scanning text quickly.
Billy watched with envy. Man, what was that like, to easily read what was on a page? To him, words were more like jumbled patterns, abstract shapes without meaning.
The lawyer scribbled something in a margin and looked up. “So you’re a football player, I guess.”
Billy nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
“For the Pats.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never been into football, but I’ve heard about you.” The tone was vaguely censorious and Billy was used to that. It had been years since he’d grabbed headlines for being a hard-partying playboy, but people didn’t forget. At least not in New England.
“I’m really all about the game now,” Billy said.
“Which is, of course, why they pay you all that money.” The lawyer flushed as if he’d let the words fly without thinking.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” a woman said. “Work emergency.”
Billy glanced over. In the doorway, a handsome African American woman dressed in a bloodred suit was standing just outside the conference room. With her kind, smart eyes, she looked like the sort of person who could run the whole country.
Or should be running the country.
Was she Lizzie Bond’s attorney?
“Not to worry,” the lawyer said. “This won’t take long.”
The woman came forward and extended her hand to Billy. “Hi, I’m Dr. Denisha Roberts, the executive director of the Roxbury Community Health Initiative.”
Billy got to his feet and leaned across the table. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Do you have the power of attorney?” the lawyer asked Dr. Roberts.
“Right here.” The woman took some papers out of her briefcase and sat down.
“I’m sorry,” Billy cut in. “Isn’t Lizzie Bond supposed to be here?”
Dr. Roberts smiled as she pushed the documents over to the lawyer. “No reason for her to be. I have to say, this is a really generous thing she’s doing.”
“What’s she doing?”
“Giving the community center the house. It’s going to be the basis of our endowment—” Dr. Roberts’s eyes popped. “Wait…Are you one of his sons?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but it’s okay. We don’t want the house.”
Which, evidently, Lizzie didn’t, either. God, she was just giving the thing away?
The lawyer looked up from reviewing the power of attorney.
“This is all in order.” He glanced at Billy. “Do you have the final bill from the hospital stay when he passed?”
Billy blinked. He couldn’t believe Lizzie was giving an entire house away.
Dr. Roberts leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “I want you to know that your father’s going to be remembered at our health center. The endowment is going to be called the Edward O’Banyon Fund. At Lizzie’s request.”
Son of a bitch.
***
Later that afternoon, Lizzie had all but finished packing up her apartment. As she wasn’t officially moving out for another three days, she left her clothes in the dresser and in the closet, but pretty much everything else was in boxes.
She couldn’t wait to get out of the duplex.
Her new place was on the dark side of Beacon Hill, a stone’s throw from Mass General, where she’d found a job as a floor nurse in the surgical intensive care unit.
Like the studio apartment she’d rented, her new job was going to be fine. She knew a couple of the folks she’d be working with and they were good people. Also, her supervisor had an excellent reputation and had seemed really great throughout the interview process. Of course, she’d much rather have stayed with the community center, but she hadn’t lost that connection. She volunteered there on Saturday mornings.
So it had all worked out.
For the most part.
Unfortunately, no amount of positive news got her mind off Sean. Memories of him were shadows that lurked in her thoughts. She remained angry and frustrated, but there were other things she felt, too. Sadness. Loneliness.
Except she had to let it all go, let him go. There was no getting over what he’d said to her or what he’d assumed she’d done. No healing that breach of trust. Besides, he had walked away without looking back. She needed to do the same.
It was so hard, though.
When her phone started ringing, she picked it up. “Hello?”
Her mother’s voice was curiously level. “Lizzie?”
“Hi, Mom.” When there was just silence on the other end, she frowned. “Mom? Are you okay?”
“Yes, Lizzie-fish. It’s just…the oddest thing has happened.”
“What?” Oh God. “Mom? You there?”
“Someone likes my pottery.”
Lizzie deflated from relief. And exhaustion. “That’s great, Mom.”
“They really like it.”
“I can see why.” Unlike a lot of her mother’s “work,” the pottery was gorgeous, both decorative and functional. The vases were all flowing, organic lines; the mugs wistful and quirky; the plates uneven and charming. When Lizzie had seen some of it during her overnight trip to Essex, the first thing she’d thought was that the objects were just like her mother: beautiful and fey and somehow not of this world.