Chapter 42
DonsatbesideAsher,so close that if Asher were inclined to run—which he wasn’t—Don could tackle him in half-a-second flat. The meeting was set to start in less than five minutes, and he’d had more people come to say hi to him than usual. Most of them were current or former patients, but there were a few other people he’d met through his grandpa as well.
Lydia walked in with Smitty, her shoulders back and her chin set to a resolute angle. She spotted Asher and sent him a wink. He was glad to see her in good spirits. His heart was racing enough for the both of them.
Claude turned in his seat to face Asher. “Mary planted the rosemary bush you dropped off last week. She’d love for you to come by and see it.”
“That’s great.” He didn’t know when he’d be able to come by, especially now that he wasn’t living at The Palms. During lunch maybe. Relief swept through him. For the first time in a while, he didn’t have to worry about anyone finding out what he was up to. He hadn’t realized what a weight that was until it was gone. “I’ll definitely do that—” His words choked off into a strangled sound as he spotted Winnie and her friends march into the room with Eliana, who had a black pillowcase over her head.
They stood in the back and whipped it off. Her hair flew around her, caught with static electricity, and she blinked at the bright fluorescent lights of the large conference room. She hadn’t spotted him yet. He would have thought his heart couldn’t race any faster. He was wrong.
She still wore the same sweats and oversized shirt she had on that morning, but she’d procured pink leather sandals at some point and had pulled her hair into a fluffy bun at the top of her head.
He’d seen her disheveled like this before, but he knew no one else had. His temperature rose with the desire to be closer to her. He let out a slow breath as her gaze met his, and heat burned like the Florida sun between them.
“Let’s get started.” Mr. Richardson banged his gavel on the conference lectern.
“He never comes to these,” Don said. “Usually he has Samantha run them.”
Foreboding twisted in Asher’s gut.
“I have some proposals,” Mr. Richardson said.
Samantha, sitting behind him, cleared her throat. “Announcements first.”
“Right. Announcements.” He paused, clearly at a loss, and motioned for Samantha to take over. She rattled them off from memory, and then sat, turning the meeting back over to Mr. Richardson.
“Now we open up the floor for discussion,” she prompted. He glared at her but turned to everyone and repeated her words. “Does anyone have something they’d like to discuss?” His tone made it clear their answer should be no.
Don raised his hand and began to stand, but before he could get all the way up, Lydia spoke, her voice ringing through the room.
“I have something to say!” She faced the crowd, her rapidly rising and falling chest the only indication of her nerves. “I’m the one who shared everyone’s secrets. I found a box someone meant to throw away, and I abused the knowledge in it. I was lonely and miserable, and it’s no excuse, but that’s why I did it.”
Asher held his breath as people gasped and whispered.
“Quiet!” Mr. Richardson banged his gavel several times until it was silent. “Any relevantbusinessmatters?” he asked pointedly.
“You went through someone’s trash?” someone called out.
“That’s no excuse!” another voice said.
“That was really embarrassing!”
“It was awful. Why would you do that?”
The calls continued, getting more and more angry as they rolled forward, and he saw Lydia’s hands shake as she stood there, each angry accusation a dart, and Lydia the board they hit time and again.
Everyone ignored the gavel’s pounding, and though it was too erratic to imitate a heartbeat, it still made him think of a hunting documentary he watched once … the steady heartbeat that grew faster and faster until the prey was pounced upon. Lydia tried to speak, tried to answer their questions, but no one gave her any space to be heard. Without thinking, Asher stood and called out over the yells, “I’ve been living in my grandpa’s bungalow since he died.”
The room fell silent as all heads swiveled away from Lydia and toward him. Mr. Richardson’s eyes looked as if they might bug straight out of his head. His face turned a shade of purplish red, and he yelled out, “I knew it! I knew something fishy was going on. I will be getting our lawyers involved—”
“I got pregnant in high school!” Nancy yelled out, and every head in the room turned from Mr. Richardson to her with a gasp. “I am not ashamed of it, but it’s not something I tell everyone either.”
“Horace is my second husband,” Winnie announced, her voice strong despite the tiny tremble he could hear. He knew she hated speaking to large groups of people, and that this revelation was something she’d worked hard to keep hidden on top of it. “I was married to Gerard first.” She pointed him out, and he gave the room a guilty smile as he waved. “Horace second.” Her face fell when she looked around and realized he was nowhere to be found.
“I’ve had five wives and I have three sons, and not a one of them will talk to me,” Gerard said into the silence. “My granddaughter is the only family member who will acknowledge me at all, and that’s because she’s too dang sweet to realize I’m a worthless old man.”
Glen Stewart, another resident of The Palms, gave Gerard’s shoulder a squeeze. It was well-known that once he’d given his family their inheritance early, they hadn’t visited since. “You’re not worthless,” Winnie said, and several people followed that with a, “Here, here!” Gerard threw her a grateful nod.
