Nick smiled gratefully and took Chloe’s arm, steering her to the chair by the window in the lounge where she sank unsteadily into the cushions. When she was settled, I made a beeline for the kitchen. It would be tea for everyone, Nick included. I had no time to muck around with the espresso machine, so he could just suck it up.
While the kettle came to a boil, I took a closer look around the 1990’s style kitchen with its beige laminate countertops, hunter green backsplash, brass hardware, white appliances, and a busy floral window valance.
Chloe’s medication bottles were still lined up on the windowsill, but there was also a daily pill organiser on the bench in front. I checked and the current day’s morning slot was empty, not that it told me much.
Feeling a little bit creepy and a lot rude, but telling myself this was Nick’s mother we were concerned about, I made my way around the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards as I went. Nothing stood out as anything but normal.
A magnetic printout of emergency contacts was attached to the front of the fridge. I snapped a photo, then scanned the list, taking special note of Austin’s cell and address. A Dr. Carruthers, GP, was listed along with a host of other medical professionals that seemed to multiply like rabbits as you got older. Aunt Shirley’s list topped ten, at least, including a cardiologist, endocrinologist, orthopaedic surgeon, dermatologist, genito-urinary specialist, and so on.
The fridge itself held several pre-cooked meals that looked homemade rather than bought. I wondered if Austin, or more likely his partner, Belinda, was responsible. The idea made me feel a bit better about the man. Perhaps his only sin was being a dick. Either way, someone was definitely giving Chloe a helping hand.
A calendar hung on the inside door of the pantry. An appointment with presumably the same Dr Carruthers as on the contact list was scheduled for later in the week. Other than that, the calendar was mostly empty. I thought of my aunt Shirley’s busy social life at Golden Oaks, and the idea of Chloe alone in her townhouse for days at a time made me sad. Then again, the calendar didn’t necessarily tell the full story. I took a photo and closed the door.
On the wall next to the fridge hung a photo of Chloe, arms linked with a man I guessed to be Brendon. She was beaming at the camera, clearly happy and in love. I slipped the frame from its hook and flipped it over. The date scrawled on the back showed it had been taken around the time Chloe said the two had met.
Another framed photo showed a younger Brendon with a small dark-haired woman at his side. His first wife, no doubt. A teenage Austin stood next to his mother. He wore a surly expression like many teenagers co-opted into having their photo taken. I thought about Brendon and his wife. And I thought about Chloe. A circle of tragedy and love not too different from the one that orbited Nick, Davis, and me. I took photos of the images and returned the frames to the wall.
The kettle squealed without me uncovering anything of particular note. I made the tea and carried the tray into the lounge where Nick and Chloe were talking. When Chloe’s gaze met mine, she smiled. In the fifteen minutes I’d been gone, some of the spark from the day before had thankfully returned, and she seemed more... focused. I set the tray down and began pouring the tea feeling all kinds of déjà vu from the day before.
“Two sugars please.” Chloe’s cheeks pinked when I glanced her way. “It helps clear my head.”
“Then two it is.” I stirred her cup and slid it across the table.
She took the cup with two hands, carefully bringing it to her lips. We sipped in silence for a while, and I watched as Chloe slowly came alive again before my eyes. The dull, bewildered look she’d worn at the front door had faded away, and although the tremors remained, they’d eased somewhat, her eyes regaining some of that spark we’d seen the day before.
“Chloe was telling me that she’d misplaced her mobile after we left yesterday.” Nick’s gaze fell on mine. “Which is why I couldn’t get through.” He paused meaningfully and I could tell he wasn’t satisfied with the explanation. “I have her landline number now—” He tapped a Post-it note sitting on the table. “—but she says her plan doesn’t support outbound calls to mobiles. It was too costly for the number of times she would use it, or soAustinsaid.”
I digested that little titbit. I had zero idea how landlines worked these days. I hadn’t possessed one for years. But I was pretty sure the extra cost would be minimal. I addressed Chloe. “Would you like me to take a look around the townhouse later and see if I can find it?”
Nick smirked at my somewhat obvious manoeuvring to get a closer look around the place, but Chloe seemed not to notice.
Her expression brightened. “Oh, would you? I’d really appreciate that. Austin gets cross when I lose things. He says he won’t buy me another if I can’t find this one. I say, screw him. I’ll replace it myself.”
I almost spat my tea trying not to laugh. Nick’s mother reminded me a lot of my aunt Shirley, and I liked her more by the minute.
“If Mads can’t find the old one, I’d be happy to cover the cost of a new one,” Nick offered. “It would be my treat. I’ll put the plan in my name, and that way I can upgrade it anytime.”
And keep it out of Austin’s control.An excellent ploy, but my eyebrows still crawled into my hairline. Nick’s offer sounded casual enough, but I wasn’t fooled. It was an invitation, a path forward in their relationship at a time when Nick had readily admitted he didn’t know what he wanted from her, if anything. It was a commitment of sorts.
“Thank you.” Chloe’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “Austin means well, but the man is far too concerned with saving me money. Brendon made sure I had nothing to worry about when he died. He left a little money to each of his grandchildren, fifty thousand to Austin, and the rest he left to me in the form of a trust and various investments. The townhouse is mortgage-free and mine for as long as I want to stay in it. Brendon was no slouch when it came to business matters. He’d renovated and flipped a few houses and invested the profits. All of that, in addition to a decent life insurance policy, means I’m in agood place financially. If I need more care down the track, I can sell the townhouse and have plenty to cover a good residential facility.” She hesitated, her cheeks pinking. “I imagine Austin told you about the Parkinson’s when he followed you to the car. He thinks he’s being clever, but I see right through him.”
Nick gave a soft snort. “Yes, he did tell us.”
She harrumphed. “That really wasn’t his place. I would’ve told you myself when I was ready. He presumes too much at times.”
Keeping my voice gentle, I asked, “At the time, we wondered why you hadn’t mentioned anything.”
Chloe’s gaze shifted to me and she sighed. “I didn’t want Nick to think that was the only reason I got in touch.”
Nick stiffened. “Are you saying it wasn’t?”
“Maybe partly,” Chloe admitted, colour flooding her cheeks. “I was diagnosed a year ago, and I suppose it crystallised my decision, but I’d been thinking about it for a long time, especially after Brendon died. I was still procrastinating when you lost Davis and then almost your own life, at least according to the papers. That’s what finally did it.”
Nick caught my eye but held his tongue, waiting for her to continue. Whatever Chloe said next was going to be important.
She reached across the coffee table and took Nick’s hand. “I can’t tell you how much I wanted to call after I saw Davis’s obituary.” Chloe’s expression crumpled in self-recrimination. “I’m so very, very sorry, Nick. Losing the person you love is the hardest thing in the world. You and I both know that. And we’ve lived it more than once, don’t you think?”
Nick’s steely gaze bore into Chloe’s, understanding that she meant the two of them losing each other in addition to losing Brendon and Davis.
