“It’s about Finn.”
My eyebrows twitch a little at the way she says Fiona’s name. There’s something vaguely obsessive, although I can’t put my finger on why. Is Fiona a plus or a minus? Sherry could be upset about the way I stole her daughter away from the wedding—in which case, it’s taken her too long to make her complaints known. “Fine.” I glance at my watch. “Two minutes, in my office.”
Shooting Amélie a triumphant look, she slips inside. Rude old woman. “No refreshment necessary,” I inform my assistant before she tries to serve coffee or something. Amélie sticks her tongue out at Mrs. Oberman’s back.
I shut the door and lean against it, making it clear I’m impatient to get going. Sherry takes a seat and gives me a blank look. “Do you love Finn?”
“None of your business.” I’m not discussing my feelings for Fiona with Sherry, especially when she hasn’t given me a single indicationshecares for Fiona.
Her eyebrows pinch in confusion and disapproval. “But you took her from Jude and married her.”
It takes all my self-control to not inform her he would’ve made a horrible husband because his penis is defective and inferior. “And? Are you intending to sue me?”
She looks taken aback. “Goodness, no. Why would I? It was good karma.”
Good karma?
“I was hoping something would happen at the wedding. Jude as her husband wouldnothave been good karma for my daughter.”
I cock an eyebrow and say nothing. Silence is golden in more ways than one, especially when you’re completely lost.
“I’ve thought about it for a long time. I didn’t want to interfere. Finn has her own path to walk. But”—Sherry thumbs the beads—“good karma must be earned. I had to do it to make up for something that happened ten years ago. Something really awful. I heard her crying in her room over breaking up with you when she came home for a break.”
My belly tightens. What’s Sherry trying to say? Fiona dumped me and reveled in it. Staged the whole scene to make it as painful and humiliating as possible. Is the woman claiming Fiona never wanted to do any of that?
Sherry continues, “I could never ask her why. She wouldn’t have told me. She never tells me anything unless it’s good news.”
“Well, that’s helpful,” I say. My patience is in short supply. I want to go home and see my wife. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Nothing, except be kind to her. And Aaron. He’s her brother.”
Ah. Now I get it. She’s here to ask me to keep Aaron off my shitlist. I never liked him—he always bristled with envy and a well-deserved inferiority complex. One of these days, I plan to fuck him up for racking up a two-million-dollar debt with somebody like Harvey and making his sister pay it off.
“I don’t need your advice on how to treat my wife.” It comes out more harshly than it should. But Sherry gives me a weird vibe, and her continual references to karma creep me out. She doesn’t speak about it the way most Americans would. She brings it up in a way that reminds me of my late Japanese grandmother, who was a devout Buddhist.
When I visited her after breaking up with Fiona, she told me to find peace by letting go. If I had no expectations, I would suffer no disappointment or dissatisfaction. By freeing myself from such mortal entanglements and shackles, I could truly experience inner peace and freedom.
I couldn’t buy into that or practice it, although intellectually I understood the wisdom of her suggestion. But unlike my grandmother, Sherry displays none of the tranquility. The woman definitely wants something, and wants it so badly it pains her soul. It’s just that I don’t think what she desires has anything to do with Fiona’s wellbeing. The pinched mouth, the zealous glow in her eyes—all indicate it’s something personal and selfish. I have no civility left for people like her.
“Perhaps you should take your own counsel and be kind to her, although it looks like it might be too late.”
Sherry’s cheeks redden with embarrassment and anger at being called out, but she tilts her chin up. “Finn’s a good girl. The only thing that anybody could hurt her with is that she was adopted, but why would that matter?”
Is she serious?“It wasn’t a normal adoption. She was selected to replace your dead daughter Finley.”
Shock slaps Sherry. She stares at me like she can’t believe I dare to speak of her dead child.
“Don’t look so surprised. What’s she supposed to think when you can’t even bother to put her name on her birthday cakes?”
“That’s—”
“Not interested in your excuses. I’m sure she knew it even before she entered college. Kids always notice things faster than you realize.”
Sherry tilts her hardened jaw. “Finn is hername.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m not as oblivious as you think. By the time I realized she had wrong beliefs about the situation, it was too late to do anything about it.”
