She had plans to mope.
“Not much,” Brandy replied nonchalantly.
“Wrong!” Rhonda declared excitedly. “You’re coming out with me!”
“I am?”
“Yep! I’m picking you up at eight-thirty and we are going to check out this new club downtown!”
“Oh.” Brandy looked across sadly at her television. She savoured the comfort of watching romantic movies on it and allowing herself to get lost in the plot. It enabled her to escape the mess which was her own love life.
“You need to stop moping around that apartment of yours and get out!” Rhonda insisted brightly.
Brandy wasn’t so sure. Her apartment had become safe and familiar. As much as she loved exploring Chicago, an evening in a club would mean meeting people. People who would ask for her story, for where she was from. As soon as anyone knew she was a widow who had almost been convicted of murdering her deceased husband they’d surely run a mile? Aiden had never once judged her for her past; she didn’t think someone new would be nearly as kind.
“You’re a beautiful Southern belle with a sparkling personality,” Rhonda told her confidently, seemingly aware of her colleague’s misgivings.
Brandy absently picked at a loose thread on her sofa as she listened. Lately her sparkle seemed to have dulled. Ever since Aiden hadn’t made good on his promise to return to her, Brandy had felt different, like she’d lost her anchor and was now adrift.
“People don’t need to know about your past,” Rhonda said softly. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? That people will judge you?”
“Won’t they?” Back in Avalon everyone had judged Brandy. She couldn’t walk a block without hearing whispered negative comments carried back to her on the breeze. She tried to hold her head high, to rise above it but people looked at her as though she were an unwanted bug which they desperately wanted to destroy. Even after her name had been cleared following Brandon’s death, she couldn’t lose the harsh judgement of Avalon’s residents. Their cruel opinions seemed to have stuck to her, making them unchangeable and permanent.
“No!” Rhonda insisted. “You need to go out, do some shots, dance and forget all about your mystery man back home!”
“Mmm,” Brandy still wasn’t convinced.
“Because let’s face it, Brandy. He’s clearly forgotten about you.”
Rhonda’s observation was harsh but true and it was just what Brandy needed to hear.
“I’ll go.” She nodded assertively.
“Good girl!” Rhonda declared triumphantly. “See you at eight-thirty. Wear something inappropriate.”
Brandy ended the call and let the silence of her apartment settle over her. She knew that Rhonda was right, not just about the fact that she needed to get out but also about Aiden having forgotten about her. And sitting around on her own, night after night, wasn’t going to change anything. If he was going to call then he’d have called. Brandy stood up purposefully and marched in the direction of her bedroom to select an outfit to wear for the evening.
*
Aiden parked up outside the Copes and May offices and glanced inside. He could see Betty positioned neatly behind her desk, typing away with her glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose. He didn’t like what he was about to do.
“Ah, Mr. Connelly,” Betty greeted him brightly, removing her glasses as she looked up from her computer monitor so that they were hanging around her neck.
“How did everything go with Clyde White? I hope he didn’t give you too frosty a reception.”
“He was as expected,” Aiden raised his shoulders slightly. “I came away in one piece which was all I could have hoped for.”
“Oh, good.” Betty went to put her glasses back on when she realized that instead of continuing on to his own office, Aiden was hovering awkwardly by her desk.
“Coffee?” she asked him. “I’ll just finish this payment and then I’ll get right on it.”
“Actually, I need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Betty turned and gave him her full attention, her eyes bright with interest.
“Can you come in my office?” Aiden suggested.
“Of course.” Betty immediately stood up and carefully straightened her skirt before following Aiden into his office.
“Take a seat.” Aiden gestured to Edmond’s chair. Tentatively, Betty lowered herself into it, clasping her hands neatly in her lap and leaning forward like a child awaiting sentencing from an angry teacher.
“I need to talk to you about Edmond,” Aiden sighed, leaning against his desk rather than sitting.
“Oh?”
“When I went to see Clyde White he told me that Edmond is more than a bit sick. That he’s actually terminally ill.”
“Oh my.” Betty’s left hand fluttered up to her chest as she took a sharp intake of breath.
“So following my appointment with Mr. White, I went to check in on Edmond. You know how he is; he kept us in the dark to prevent worrying us. But it’s cancer, Betty, and it’s bad.”
Betty wore a grave expression as she stared intently at the carpeted floor, one hand still resting upon her chest.
“I hate being the bearer of bad news but he wanted you to know. He expressly asked me to come and tell you.”
Betty began to shake her head woefully.
“No,” she uttered, her voice barely audible. “Not him too!”
Aiden went and knelt beside her, cupping her right hand in his own.
“He’s one of the good ones, Mr. Connelly,” Betty declared as she looked up to meet his gaze. Watery pools gathered beneath her eyes and began to slowly burst their banks and descend down the wrinkled crevasses in her cheeks.
“I know,” Aiden tightened his grip on her hand which was trembling with despair. “And please, call me Aiden.”
Betty’s entire body began to shudder as her tears intensified. Aiden sat and held her hand as she cried, knowing there was little else he could do to comfort her.
“I’m sorry,” Betty muttered as she tried to compose herself.
“Don’t be.”
“May I be excused?” Betty struggled to her feet and wiped some of the tears from her face.
“Of course,” Aiden immediately replied. “Take all the time you need, Betty. I know how much you care for Edmond.”
“Will he accept visitors?” she asked, her voice on the cusp of breaking.
“Yes,”
