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  "Did you sleep?" Carol asked as she went to the sink to put on the coffee.

  "Not a wink. But sleeping has never been my strength," she said. "I was afraid to close my eyes."

  Carol nodded sympathetically. "I heard your mother sobbing quietly when I passed her room to take a shower this morning. It's a good thing; she's been too composed ever since we got back from the cemetery."

  "Well, you know her; she's not going to cry in front of strangers."

  "Yes, she's always the lady. And that's why I'm glad you're here."

  "Because she can let loose with me?"

  Carol nodded.

  Allison walked over to the coffee machine after it beeped its readiness. Her hand shook a little as she spooned sugar into her mug. She loved sugar. Why was sugar always the villain? She put her hands around the heat of the mug and drew it to her lips. She tried to clear her mind of the endless rambling thoughts that kept spinning around in her brain. I will lose my mind if I have to stay cooped up in this house all week while everyone comes by with lasagnas and stories. She finished her coffee as she stood there, already too keyed up to sit back down at the counter. She looked out past the backyard onto the still waters of the Hudson River. Look at those boats, so serenely bobbing on the water, she thought. Why couldn't Dad have owned a yacht business? She rinsed the mug and put it down on the counter, the water still clinging to it. I don't care if it will leave water stains on this ugly blood-spotted granite. I don't care at all.

  She turned to leave the room and saw her aunt looking at her carefully. "I'm not going to snap, Carol. I'm no china doll," she said.

  "I know, but it would be okay."

  "What would be okay?"

  "If you allowed yourself to be...fragile."

  "I can't. Don't you know? I'm the strong one."

  *****

  After her long walk around Rockland Lake later that evening, Allison came back into a house filled with sympathetic visitors. She quickly took her place next to her mother on that cursed low chair.

  Her mother leaned over to whisper in her ear, "All the work people came by, you just missed them: Natalya, Paul Franklin, the new guy, Alexander."

  "Who's that?"

  "Shh, we'll speak later," she said as they turned their attention to a young man who sat down in front of them.

  "You don't know me," he began, "but I felt I needed to come by to pay my respects. I owe a lot to your father—my whole career actually."

  "My father? You're talking about Daniel Ross?" Allison asked and turned in irritation as Jeremy poked her from the side. "Nice of you to show up Jeremy," she whispered.

  "I could say the same about you," he said. "I could only switch out of two shifts on such short notice."

  "I know, so inconsiderate of Dad not to give us advanced warning of his sudden death."

  "Allison, Jeremy, Mr. Prescott here was telling me a fascinating story about your father you might want to hear," their mother chided gently.

  Allison smoothed her expression and gave her attention to Mr. Prescott. Her mother was taking this Shiva thing way too seriously.

  "I would see your father every morning at his early run in the park. Finally, one time, I got up enough courage to ask him his advice on a business matter."

  He shook his head as he continued, "'Son you're not cut out for business,' he said to me. 'I've seen you in this park for months now, making cautious eye contact with me waiting for the right moment to approach me. Being successful in business is about creating those opportunities. You have the head for it, not the balls—go teach somewhere.'"

  He smiled as he continued, "I've been teaching business management at Columbia for the past two years, and I love it."

  "Now that sounds like Dad," Jeremy whispered.

  Allison nodded. She found herself nodding an awful lot the rest of the week. In the end, she was glad she had stayed—her mother had been right, of course. One of the more important things she learned was that many people come by to make themselves feel better about a sudden tragedy. The whole week had struck her as an odd combination of voyeurism and real shock, but the experience of actively mourning did lend itself to a shared sense of grief that she found surprisingly helpful. She also learned that tuna casserole can be made in a myriad of ways—all of them awful.

  Chapter 4

  Herbert Woods peered kindly at them over his glasses. “I'm very sorry for your loss, Vivienne, Ms. Ross, is there anyone else that is supposed to be present for the reading of the will?”

  “Thank you, but no, it’s just us,” Allison responded as she pointed to her mother and herself. Jeremy had an emergency and her mother did not wish to include Uncle Martin and his son, Bradley, in this very private moment.

  Everything went smoothly until the lawyer handed a property deed to Allison.

  “What’s this for?”

  “It’s for the summer house in Maine,” he responded.

  Allison sat frozen for a moment. “I can't believe this is happening! I thought that was sold after, um, after Uncle Joey died?” She looked at her mother.

  “No, your father always meant for you to have it.”

  “I don’t want it. Sell it.” She directed her attention to Mr. Woods.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that Ms. Ross.”

  “Oh, of course, there’s probably a stipulation that says I have to hold onto it for a year before it can be sold.”

  Mr. Woods nodded in response

  She turned toward her mother accusingly, “And you knew about this.”

  “Yes." Her mother looked uncomfortable. "We'll discuss this later, now is not the time."

  "This is exactly the time—we're here now with a lawyer."

  “There’s one more thing.” The lawyer interrupted as he drew their attention back to himself. “Since you were named executor of your father’s estate, your first order of business is to find a replacement for your father as CEO of RossAir Industries."

  “Me? I don’t know the first thing about the business,” Allison protested.

  “Your father drew up a list of excellent candidates,” he said as he handed her an envelope.

  She opened it and looked at it quizzically, “My name is on this list.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Mother, what do you know about this?” Allison demanded.

  “Honey, let’s not take up anymore of Herbert’s time. There will be plenty of opportunities to discuss this. A decision doesn’t have to be made immediately.”

  The two of them silently left Mr. Woods' local office in West Nyack and went out into the sun-lit street.

  "Mom!" she exclaimed as she rubbed her temple. "All of this is crazy! I didn't know Dad still held onto the cottage. And me as CEO? Is that some kind of joke?"

  Two men interrupted her rant, introducing themselves and flashing their badges.

  “I’m Detective Robert Fitzsimons and this is my partner Detective Larry Notis. Mrs. Ross, we stopped at the house and your sister told us you might be here. We’re sorry to bother you at a time like this, but we have a few questions regarding the accident that claimed your husband’s life.” They directed their inquiry toward Vivienne Ross and gestured to a bench outside the building.

  “Was there anyone who had a grudge against your husband? Maybe a business deal that fell through or something of that nature?” Det. Fitzsimons began.

  “Nothing comes to mind, Detective,” Vivienne responded.

  “Was your husband visibly upset or distracted on the day of or the days prior to the accident?” It was Detective Notis’ turn.

  Vivienne paused for a minute as she rubbed her forehead, “He did come home unusually late from work that day."

  "Did he say why?" the detective asked.

  "No, but he seemed restless, and that’s why he went back out for a drive at that hour in the pouring rain.”

  Allison watched the exchange intently. She’d seen enough police dramas on TV to know that the police always suspected those closest to
the victim first. Their questions sounded routine but she was on guard. She could not let this continue.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she chimed in. “I’m just wondering why you think this might warrant a criminal investigation? It sounds like my father missed his turn and then lost control of his car in the storm.”

  “Ms. Ross, your father’s car ended up at the bottom of an embankment behind a house that runs along the Hudson River on 9W, as you know." He unbuttoned his jacket as he continued. "The new owners had not moved in yet and had placed barriers along the road to prevent just such an accident occurring from the mud run-off while their home and driveway were under construction. That barricade had recently been dragged off, and the streetlight over the property was out. It is possible that all these circumstances will add up to coincidence, but when the CEO of a large privately-owned company meets an untimely demise on a road that he’s very familiar with—alarm bells go off.”

  “Thank you Detectives, I hope that this all turns out to be an unfortunate accident. I shudder to think of any other outcome.” Vivienne's hand shook slightly as she drew her fall jacket a bit tighter around her waist.

  “Well, ladies,” the men rose to signal the close of the meeting. “If you think of anything, even seemingly insignificant, don’t hesitate to contact us.” Detective Notis handed over his card and they nodded their good-byes.

  Allison looked at her mother, “And here I was just thinking this week couldn’t get any worse.” They walked toward the parking lot and got into the car. Allison turned on the ignition and her mother's hand shot out to stop her.

  "Alli..." she began as her voice broke. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'm holding it together by a thread, but those detectives and the things they're implying..."

  "Who said you have to hold it together? Not for my sake, don't. Let it out. Scream, cry, whatever it takes," she finished softly."You've been so composed, way too composed. It isn't healthy."

  She shook her head, "No, not here, not now, in a parking lot in front of everybody."

  "There's no one here. Just you and me. It's just you and me and Jeremy, now."

  She paused as her mother gasped out a few large sobs as she gripped her folded arms tightly and rocked back and forth for a while. "I'm ...its okay, let's go home."

  "If you're sure."

  Her mother nodded her assent, and she pulled out of the lot. "But we still need to talk about the cottage," Allison added.

  "Okay, I can do that. It's good; I can refocus on that," she nodded. "You have to deal with what went on there in order to move forward."

  "I have moved forward. I have a successful business; I'm living in the here and now. The past is long gone; I will not deal with stupid childhood memories."

  "...that you carry around with you every day."

  "Not true. Not true at all."

  "Allison."

  "Sorry, sell the damn cottage, burn it, I don't give a flying f..." she stopped herself. Getting angry with her mother was not going to solve anything and her mother was very vulnerable right now. They both were. She was happy to pull into the driveway a few minutes later before she might say anything truly hurtful. She shot out of the car and slammed her door, taking out her frustration on it instead.

  Carol was sitting on the sofa looking at old photo albums. She jumped up in concern as Allison came storming in. “What happened?” she asked.

  “I’m going up to pack,” Allison responded.

  Carol turned toward her older sister, “Vivienne?”

  “At what point did I allow myself to become a personal punching bag for my children?” Vivienne said.

  Her soft voice floated and followed Allison up the stairs, causing her to pause mid-step.

  “She’s dealing with a lot. She loves and respects you very much.”

  “Well, it sure didn’t feel that way at the lawyer’s office earlier. And now the police suspect foul play in Daniel's death. Carol, could you fix some chamomile tea, and make me a double, please.” Vivienne sat down wearily at the island in the kitchen. “Daniel left the summer house in Bar Harbor to Ally,” she added.

  “Ouch. Wasn’t that sold years ago?”

  “No, Daniel held onto it for sentimental reasons, and he felt the property value would increase, which it did— tenfold. I need about six aspirin to get me through the rest of this day,” Vivienne said, her chin resting in her hands.

  Allison hastily ran up the remainder of the stairs and refused to allow her emotions to dictate her next move. She needed to concentrate on formulating some sort of strategy to get through the next month at the office and her gallery. Her mother would have to find the strength to deal with things on her end. She tossed the few balled up articles of clothing she had brought with her from Florida into her overnight bag before coming gingerly into the kitchen.

  “I called a car to take me back to the city. Carol, how long will you be staying? I hate to feel like I’m abandoning Mom.”

  “I’m sitting right here, there's no need to speak about me in the third person. And I don’t need a babysitter,” her mother said.

  Allison leaned over to kiss her mother warmly. “I’m sorry Mom. I’ve been acting unpleasant and disrespectful. It’s just one shock after another. I can’t take it."

  “I know sweetheart—we'll figure it out." She smoothed down Allison's hair and kissed her on the forehead. "You just go back to your apartment and get your bearings."

  “I’d love to do that more than anything. But unfortunately, I have a more pressing matter. Tomorrow morning I’m heading to RossAir Industries to find Dad’s replacement. I dread it, but the sooner I get this over with the sooner things can return to some semblance of normalcy.”

  Chapter 5

  Allison stood on busy Sixth Avenue and flashed back to the times when her mother used to bring her up to the office to visit her father on her days off from school. She loved the commotion of the city, having been raised in the quiet of the suburbs. Her father’s office was a block from Radio City and Rockefeller Center. They would go to see the Rockettes and then go ice-skating at the famed rink. Then they would top it off with one of her favorite things to do in the area. She would walk hand in hand with her mother down the fabled Forty-Seventh street, oohing and ahhing over the sparkling diamonds in the windows’ showcases. Allison would select her favorite diamond ring and then replay a scene in her mind all the way home, of her Prince Charming as he slipped the flawless stone onto her finger.

  Well, that isn’t happening anytime soon, Allison thought, as she worked her way through the revolving doors of the massive skyscraper. She didn’t think Prince Charming existed, which was fine with her, because she wasn’t wasting her time looking for him. It had been a number of years since she had walked through these doors, and she did her best to calm the butterflies flitting around in her stomach.

  She rode the elevator to the thirty-third floor, stepped through the double glass doors, walked down the long corridor to Natalya’s desk, and re-introduced herself.

  “Of course I know who you are! You’ve grown quite a bit taller, but the eyes are the same,” Natalya said, coming out from behind her desk. Her coarse, blonde hair was scraped back into a neat ponytail, accentuating her round cheeks. She pulled off her reading glasses, letting them hang from their chain, as she took Allison’s hands in her own.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. It is a terrible shock for us all. I’m sure things will seem overwhelming at first, but I'll be right here to assist you in any way that you need, dear, to make for as smooth a transition as possible.” Natalya was several inches shorter than Allison, but there was no mistaking who had the upper hand now.

  “I appreciate that, Natalya, and I’m sure I’ll be calling on your knowledge of my father’s business dealings as I try to figure out my next step.”

  Allison walked crisply toward her father’s former office and opened the door. She sat down behind the desk and swallowed the hysterical bubble that threatened to surfac
e. The desk was pin neat, as if her father had expected to show up for work at any moment. There was a beautiful picture of him and her mother taken at last year's Thanksgiving. It was in the frame she had bought him for Hanukah. The sentimentality of it caught her by her surprise. It was unlike her father to keep anything personal at his office. She didn't know why she was so unsettled by the idea that he might have done something thoughtful and without motive. Maybe I hadn't really seen who Dad had become lately. Maybe he was trying to focus more on family, on things other than this business—this business that seemed as demanding as a third child would have been. Her eyes lit on the computer, and she stared at the blank screen. Allison tried all the obvious ones, family names, birthdays, anniversaries, knowing that it wouldn't be any of those

  She buzzed Natalya. “Do you know my father’s password?”

  “Sorry, I don’t," she responded.

  “Thank you, Natalya.” She swiveled her chair around as she looked out over the city and tried to think like her father. She phoned her mother. “Mom, do you know the patent number of the GPS system that Zeidy invented?”

  “What an odd question, Allison. I know your father kept all that information in the safe. Let me just run up and check.” A few minutes later Vivienne read off the numbers and Allison was in—she couldn't believe it was that simple.

  She spent the next couple of hours trying to catch up on the latest industry intelligence and creating a triaged list of items that needed her immediate concern. She was deep in thought when there was a tap at the door. The door opened before she had the chance to respond.

  “I’ve come to introduce myself. I’m Alexander Coventry,” said a smooth voice, accompanied by a firm handshake.

  Allison's jaw dropped as she looked at the lean, six-foot plus hunk that had just introduced himself. She recovered quickly and looked down at the list of prime candidates that was on her desk.