Deliberately forgotten?
No, she thought painfully. Not deliberate. Necessary.
Painting him as a selfish bastard had made it easier to cope with the pain of living without him.
‘I idolised him,’ he said simply. ‘To me, there was no better man and no better father.’
She pressed her ear tighter to his thumping heart and squeezed his hand. ‘You’ll be a wonderful father, too,’ she whispered, a realisation that made her own thumping heart swell, because at heart, Xavi was a good man. One of the best. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was she, and he always did what he thought was for the best. Best of all, he was hers. Would always be hers.
And she would always be his.
The rest of the day was spent nibbling at a variety of food, watching more mindless action films, playing chess—Xavi beat her three games to nil and even pretended to be a magnanimous winner—and even making love. It had been very gentle, but when Beth fell asleep that night wrapped in his arms, it was with a heart full of contentment.
‘I have good news for you,’ Xavi announced the next evening soon after he arrived home from work.
He’d found his wife—how he loved calling her that in his head—sipping water and catching the last of the sun on the roof terrace. He’d called her a couple of times that day to check on her—it wasn’t a breach of his self-determined rules of home and work separation because rules were put aside for sickness. That was basic humanity. Looking at her now, he estimated that she looked 90 per cent better. The 10 per cent was the weight she’d lost. She would never look anything less than beautiful to him, but he hoped she regained the weight soon. There could never be too much of Beth, and with that in mind, he was having dinner brought up to them on the roof.
She raised a curious eyebrow. ‘Which is?’
‘Probate has been granted.’
He didn’t know what kind of response he expected, but the deflating of her shoulders was nowhere near it. ‘That doesn’t please you?’
She sighed and tilted her head back. ‘Not really. It just feels…’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know how I can feel pleased about an inheritance that my grandfather had to die for me to receive. It feels wrong.’ She shook her head with another sigh. ‘His death still doesn’t feel real to me. I haven’t mourned him properly, and I don’t know if that’s because I wasn’t close enough to him or because of everything that’s been going on with you and me, but you tell me probate’s been granted and all I feel is guilty that he’s left me all this money when I didn’t love him enough to mourn him.’
‘He wasn’t an easy man to love,’ Xavi admitted. ‘I knew him all my life and worked closely with him for many years, but I haven’t felt his death on an emotional level, either. He was a brilliant man, but hard and stubborn in mind and heart. I think he loved you as much as he was capable of loving anyone.’
‘Do you think…?’
‘What?’
She met his stare. ‘That he was gay?’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Just a feeling. It would make sense of a lot of things. I came close to asking him a couple of times, but lost my nerve.’
‘I never knew him to have a partner of either sex,’ Xavi said slowly, thinking hard. ‘He kept his private life very private. Your grandmother left him before I was old enough to remember her. I don’t think even my grandfather knows why. I suppose it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that he was a closet homosexual, but that leads to the question of why he felt the need to suppress it. He worked in fashion, after all.’
She smiled. ‘There is that. And it is the twenty-first century. Lots of older men of his generation have felt comfortable coming out and embracing their true sexuality.’ She closed her eyes briefly and gave her head a little shake. ‘Probably it’s one of those mysteries that should be left to lie. He was who he was. Wishing can’t change the past. I can’t wish the truth out of him or wish him into being a grandfather I can properly mourn.’
Their dinner was brought out to them, a gentle lemon chicken dish served with plenty of fresh olives, roasted vegetables and tomatoes. It warmed Xavi’s heart to see Beth dive into it with much of her old gusto, even if she didn’t feel ready to have a glass of wine with it.
‘Are you ready to talk about the implications of what probate means?’ he asked.
Her smile was rueful. ‘Sure.’
‘It means everything is now yours. I didn’t want to overload you while you were ill, but it actually went through a couple of days ago. As your grandfather’s executor and your appointed representative, I’ve transferred everything into your name. There are some things, like his properties, that will take a short while longer to be rubber stamped, but the majority is now legally yours.’
Was he imagining that her face had paled a little?
‘A couple of days ago?’
‘Yes. On Friday. I’ve got to devote my time to the Grimaldi deal this week—I’m off for an overnight in New York on Wednesday to oversee the finalisation of it, but in the meantime I’ll get my legal team to reach out to yours and get the contracts drawn up giving me the power to act on your behalf with the business, and we can get it all signed when I return…’ Yes, her face had definitely lost colour. ‘Are you still happy for that to happen?’
She had a drink of her water, putting the glass back on the table with a clatter. ‘Yes, yes…although I’ve been thinking about it, and will definitely be getting hands-on with the business at some point soon, but I’ll stick to the creative side and leave the running of it to you.’
His relief that she hadn’t changed her mind on their deal was tempered by concern at her pallor. ‘Are you not feeling well again,mi vida?’
