But now, now I knew. There was no hope, not even hope I wasn't ready to fully explore. There was nothing but a vast empty hole of grief and loneliness. And I knew in my heart I'd never recover from this, not fully. I'd known more loss than most would know in a lifetime, but nothing had carved such an irreparable hole as this.
As the bathroom attendant brought me tissues, Daisy sat beside me and held my hand as I cried on her shoulder for what must have been the hundredth time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lydia
I resisted groaning when I heard the bell ring on the door of the boutique. There'd been a sale today, and I was dead on my feet. I was the only one closing, and I'd been cleaning up and hoping to be done with customers for the day.
Laying a white cashmere sweater that I'd just folded down on the pile in front of me, I turned, freezing when I saw Eileen standing in the doorway. "Hi," I said, blinking at her, not knowing the appropriate reaction.
Her smile was small and quick. "Hi, Lydia," she said. We stared at each other for a moment.
"How are you? Are you here . . . are you shopping?" I asked.
She walked toward me, shaking her head. "No, I'm actually here to see ya."
I tilted my head. "Oh? How did you know I work here?"
"Em, your friend Daisy told me."
"Daisy?" When had Eileen seen Daisy? And why would Daisy divulge my place of employment to anyone associated with Brogan? "I, uh . . ." I pursed my lips. "I'm sorry, Eileen, this is just . . . unexpected and I—"
She came just a bit closer, her pale blue eyes the precise color of her brother's. Looking into them made my heart hurt. "I'm sorry to just show up like this, Lydia. I was just hopin' we could talk. Maybe get coffee? I won't take up much of your time, I promise."
Oh God, this was not going to be good for me. I'd been doing okay in the weeks since I'd run into Brogan. Most days, I didn't even cry anymore. And now . . .
"Please?" Eileen pleaded.
I let out a breath. "Okay, sure. Let me, um, just finish up here and I'll meet you in the coffee shop next door. They're open for another hour or so."
Eileen let out a breath and smiled. "Okay, great." She started to turn. "Should I order for ya?"
"Oh, sure, uh . . . a raspberry Chai would be great."
She smiled again. "Okay." Turning, she walked out the door, the bell chiming again behind her.
I walked to it and turned the lock even though it was five minutes before the official closing time. It took me a few more minutes to close out the register and put the money in the safe in the back. Gathering my things and putting my jacket on, I then set the shop alarm and locked the door behind me.
Next door, Eileen was sitting at a table by the window. I sat down in the chair across from her, cupping my hands around the still-hot mug in front of me. "Thanks," I said, nodding down to the tea.
She gave me a small smile, taking a sip from her own cup. "How are ya, Lydia?" she asked. "Really?"
Surprised by the tenderness in her expression, I answered honestly, "I'm okay, mostly."
She nodded, pressing her lips together. "I'm sorry about your brother," she said. I nodded, not taking my eyes from her. "It must have been a terrible shock."
"Yes," I said, surprised by the tears that pricked my eyes. I missed Stuart, but I was also very aware of his issues and the ways in which he’d contributed to his own death. I'd been thinking about him a lot lately, now that the pain of losing him was diminishing, and I was ready to remember him as he'd really been—not some perfected version, but realistically, a very flawed man. And somehow acknowledging who he'd really been felt like a weight lifted from my shoulders. "He . . . wasn't perfect, not by a long shot. But . . . he was my brother. I miss him." He was my only family left. I looked to the side. "I miss . . . the possibility that he could have changed his life . . . grown up . . . I don't know. I'm not in denial about who he really was. I just wish he'd had a chance to change."
"I understand," she said before pausing again. "Me brother tortures himself for what happened." I blinked at her, before looking down into my tea, squeezing the warm mug in my hands. "He can't forgive himself, Lydia."
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "Eileen . . ." Her name broke off in a whisper, my heart squeezing.
"Lydia, he needs your forgiveness. He doesn't think he deserves it, and he'll try to keep ya from givin' it, but God, he needs it so badly."
"I . . . I . . . I just . . . he betrayed me in other ways, ways you don't know about. He lied to me about buying my house and—"
"He didn't tell ya about that because he bought it originally as part of his bloody stupid revenge plan." She frowned, shaking her head. "And then, well, then when he realized the error of his judgment in that regard, he couldn't just hand it over. Ya still had no way to pay for the taxes alone. You'd only have had to sell it again, the way your family had to the first time. He'd made sure of that. He needed to fix the situation before he gave it back to ya. He thought he was doin' right by ya, Lydia. I know it's all twisted, but I swear to ya on me life, on the very legs I walk on, that me brother has a heart of gold unlike anyone I've ever known."
I swallowed. I wanted to put my hands over my ears and beg her to stop. She was causing me to doubt the carefully constructed walls I'd built since I'd left Brogan's apartment that day, the walls that were keeping me safe, secure. I needed those walls. I'd struggled to lift each brick into place. "Did he send you here?"