Page 43 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

Priscilla’s tone suggested Allie might as well have allowed a busboy to perform her tonsillectomy, but Allie held her tongue. “She’s a student at one of the beauty schools, and she does really great work.”

“Hmph.” Her mother studied her. “I suppose the layers do frame your face nicely.”

It was the closest thing to approval that Allie was likely to get, and she sat wondering how soon she could steer the conversation to the real reason she’d come.

But she needed to talk with her mother. When the story unfolded in court, it had quickly become clear Priscilla Ross was the mastermind behind the Ponzi scheme. If anyone would know where the attic money originated, it was Allie’s mom.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” her mother said. “It’s only been ten days this time.”

“Yes, but the last time was a special visit so we could talk about grandma. This is our regularly scheduled visit.”

“I see.” Priscilla folded her hands on the table, her fingernails looking perfectly manicured and polished. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, too, Mom.” Allie glanced at the guard.

He was standing a little further away than normal, probably trying to keep a closer eye on the amorous-looking couple in the far corner.

Something about the closeness between the two made her think about Jack, and she found herself blurting out the one thing she hadn’t intended to tell her mother at all.

“I’m seeing Jack Carpenter again.”

She looked back at her mom in time to see her eyes narrow the tiniest bit.

“Really.” The word came out dry and crackly, not a question as much as a disdainful statement.

“Yes. He has a ten-year-old daughter.”

Priscilla gave a familiar put-upon sigh. “And let me guess—he sees her every other weekend and complains about how much he has to pay in child support.”

“No, mother.” Allie ordered herself to keep her tone even. “The girl’s mom is dead. Jack’s been raising her alone from the time she was just a baby.”

That wiped the judgmental sneer off Priscilla’s face. Her hands went flat on the tabletop, and the frown lines deepened around her mouth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And Jack’s actually quite wealthy now.” Allie felt annoyed with herself for saying so, for giving a damn about the fact that Priscilla would obviously care about Jack’s financial status.

For caring that Priscilla would care. Still, she couldn’t seem to make herself shut up.

“He’s the owner of a successful app development company.

I looked up the prices on some of the games and apps he’s sold.

Some have gone for well over a million dollars. ”

“Well,” Priscilla said, looking suitably chagrined. “I guess sometimes things don’t turn out exactly like you expect.”

Allie nodded, clenching her own hands tight in her lap. “You’re right. They don’t.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

Allie studied her mom’s face, noticing for the first time that they had identical lines at the corners of their eyes.

She’d never seen them before on her mother, and Allie guessed her mom used to keep them hidden with Botox. Not much of an option in prison.

Allie shot another glance at the guard, who was moving in to separate the couple now that the woman was practically sitting on the man’s lap. “Break it up, you two,” he said.

Allie looked back at her mother. This was her chance.

“Mom.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You looked more closely than Daddy did at Grandma’s financials, right?”

Priscilla frowned. “Did my attorney tell you to ask about this?”

“What?” Allie blinked. “No. I mean—that’s not why I’m asking”

“Why are you asking?”

“Grandma’s will—your attorney was the one who prepared that, right?”

“What are you driving at, Allison?”

Allie swallowed hard. “I found something in grandma’s attic. And I’m wondering if she ever mentioned it to you.”

The flicker in Priscilla’s eyes was unmistakable. She knew something, Allie was sure of it.

When Allie’s mother spoke again, her voice was almost a whisper. “So you found it.”

“Yes.” Allie hesitated. “I’m not talking about sex toys, either. Or love notes. Or collectible bongs or semen-stained Versace gowns or?—”

“What on earth are you babbling on about?” Priscilla stage-whispered.

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page here,” Allie said. “That we’re talking about the same thing.”

She stared into her mother’s eyes, so deep and green and so much like the ones that stared back at her every time she looked in the mirror. Her mother stared back, seeming not to blink at all.

“So you found the money,” Priscilla said flatly.

Allie wasn’t sure she’d heard right at first. Her mom’s voice was so low, and the declaration so unexpected after this many false alarms with everyone stashing things in the attic. Allie just stared, at a loss for words.

“I’m not surprised you guessed the combination,” Priscilla said slowly. “You always were a smart one. Or did you pry it open with a crowbar?”

Was that a backhanded compliment or a test of some sort? Allie gave a tight nod. “I figured out the combination.”

“Good. So now you know.”

“Know what?” Allie leaned forward, her hands shaking a little. “I have no idea where it came from or who it belongs to or?—”

“It belongs to you, Allison,” she said. “The fact that your grandmother used your birthdate as the combination should have made that obvious.”

Ice sluiced through Allie’s veins. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. Couldn’t even think of what to say next.

Which was fine, since Priscilla was still talking. “As for where it came from, that’s inconsequential. The fact of the matter is that it’s your inheritance. The will was very clear about that. The contents of the home, the home itself—it’s all yours.”

“But—but—” Allie shook her head, not sure where to start. “That kind of cash doesn’t just magically appear. Where did it come from?”

“Are you questioning your grandmother’s honesty, Allison?”

“Of course not,” Allie said, then bit her lip. She left the rest of the words unspoken.

I’m questioning your honesty, Mother.

“Your grandmother was always very smart with money,” Priscilla continued. “Remember when she bought up all of those properties in West Linn during the recession? She made a fortune on those deals.”

“I remember,” Allie said, though it had never occurred to her until now to consider who had to lose out for her family to profit. Allie cleared her throat. “So what am I supposed to do with it?”

Priscilla laughed. “Spend it, of course. I don’t recommend putting it in the bank.

Obviously from the way your grandmother chose to store it, she intended to have you keep it that way.

A safe deposit box might be smarter, but you could always just leave it in the attic. But bottom line, it’s yours to spend.”

“Spend,” Allie repeated, baffled by the idea of having that kind of money to her name. “I—I guess I’m just not used to having that sort of cash lying around.”

Her mother made a hrmph sound and rolled her eyes. “No, but you might have. If life had gone differently.”

Allie curled her fingers inward, digging her nails into her palms. It was possible her mom was lamenting her own incarceration, but Allie didn’t think so.

It sounded like a jab about her daughter’s earning potential or her lack of a husband.

It could have been any number of insults, but Allie didn’t feel like having have that argument right now.

She had so many more questions to ask. She opened her mouth to voice one, but her mom cut her off.

“Have you spoken to your father lately?”

Allie hesitated. “Yes. I went to visit him a few days ago. He sends his love.”

A faint smile crossed her mother’s face, and Allie watched closely, wondering if it was an act or the real deal. “That’s nice. And his new appeal—I trust that’s all going according to plan?”

“As far as I know. We don’t really spend a lot of time talking about it.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “What do you talk about?”

“Work. Family. How he’s feeling.”

“And how is he feeling?” The hardness in her voice sounded sharp in contrast to the softness around her eyes, and Allie wondered what the hell went on behind her mom’s brittle exterior.

“He’s sad,” Allie said. “He misses Grandma. He misses you. He misses his freedom.”

Priscilla’s eyes began to glitter, and she looked up at the ceiling as though contemplating the gaucheness of florescent light fixtures. “I see,” she said. “You know, Allison?—”

“Time’s almost up, ladies!”

Allie jumped. She hadn’t even noticed the guard approaching, hadn’t realized they’d been talking this long.

She leaned closer to her mom, wanting to say so much more.

Wanting to hear more. Not words, exactly, but something else.

Something that had been elusive throughout the entirety of their mother-daughter union.

But when Priscilla looked back at her, the mask was in place again.

“Take care, Allison.” Her mother stood, then leaned in to air kiss her on one cheek, then the other, her lips barely grazing Allie’s skin.

The money weighed heavily on Allie’s mind the following Friday. She wanted to believe her mom. She did believe her mom, dammit.

Which changed whatever she had to do from a legal standpoint. She was under no obligation to report the cash. She could sit tight for a while and take her time deciding whether to invest it or tuck it in savings or pay off debts. She had plenty of options. Plenty of time.

So why did the little voice in her head keep telling her it wasn’t that simple?

Well, she had other things to dwell on. Jack was coming to dinner, the first time in ages she’d see him without Skye or Paige or Wade or Jack’s mom or someone else close by, making them censor their conversations and cut short the lingering touches.