For Better or Hearse

Chapter Twenty-Six

F or the better part of the afternoon, Ash shops until she literally drops. The swanky outdoor mall is drenched in afternoon sunshine. Luxury retailers and high fashion shops seem out of place in the laid-back atmosphere of Hawaii.

“Go,” she huffs, plopping onto a bench.

Delaney and Claire blink down at her. She has never been more in fight-or-flight mode than when she’s in a mall. All afternoon, she’s played her part, not wanting to alienate the Whitfords. Now? She’s done. Personal shopper is not in her death doula duties.

“Are you sure?” Delaney asks. Shopping bags hang off her arm. “There’s a sale at Gucci.”

Ash squints. Sweat beads her brow. “Don’t they have Gucci in Los Angeles?”

“You haven’t even bought anything,” she complains.

Claire gives her daughter an amused look. “I’m going to get a coffee,” she says. “Anyone want one?”

Ash shakes her head. “Leave me here to rot.”

With that, mother and daughter turn away, in search of clothes and caffeine.

As soon as they leave her, Ash breathes a sigh of relief.

Her feet have hurt less hiking with Nathaniel than they have today. Typically, she’d considered herself well skilled in the art of shopping—how could she not be with Tessie as her cousin?—but clearly, for the Whitford women, shopping is an extreme sport.

Her phone vibrates with a message from Tessie: How are you? You need me to fly down there and kick Maui’s ass?

As soon as she sees it, the words fold around her like a hug, and that tightness in her chest loosens .

I’m surviving, she types back. But my wallet might not. How are you?

Fine!!!

Ash frowns at the barrage of exclamation points.

Baby still on your bladder?

No, I think I’m just dehydrated.

A swell of music, and Ash looks up from her phone. A woman with a ukulele is in the center of the square.

Smiling, she stands and drifts through the crowd. She tips the musician and then heads back to her bench. Only, she doesn’t get far. As she passes a pink brick storefront, she stops. And even though gasps are more Tessie’s MO, it’s exactly what she does.

In the window of the boutique, on a mannequin that no normal woman could even hope to emulate, is a long white silk dress. Spaghetti straps, a sweetheart neckline. The exact opposite of vampy. Feminine, flowy and delicate. When was the last time she wore something so girlish?

“That’s hella cute.”

Ash startles at the voice in her ear.

“I don’t know,” she says, twisting around and telling her heart to settle. Delaney’s like the ghost of shopping past who keeps popping up when Ash least expects it.

“It’s pretty.” A new shopping bag hangs off Delaney’s wrist. Lifting her hot pink sunglasses, she says, “Virginal beach vibes. I like it.”

But would Nathaniel like it?

The thought pops into her head so fast she cringes.

Jesus.

What is wrong with her? Dressing for a man like some Stepford woman? What kind of hell has she wrought? Still, it brings a smile to her face. Imagining his reaction. Because isn’t that how he’s made her feel this last week? Vulnerable. Delicate. Sexy.

When she arrived, she wasn’t sure she’d survive this vacation. Now all that’s on her mind, day in and day out, is seeing Nathaniel. Bantering at brunch. A good-natured race over the boulders on a sunset hike. Sneaking to each other’s rooms at night.

She doesn’t feel so alone on this trip. Not anymore.

She needs him. Especially in Maui. The on-edge feeling she’s had since they landed in Hawaii disappears when she’s in his arms.

A week ago, she was so sure this was a fling. A truce with the enemy. But it’s quickly become far more intimate. Special. Like it’s hers.

The thought’s sharp, cutting. A sensation she wants to hold on to.

Which means they have to end when the trip does. Continuing this relationship isn’t a possibility. Ash isn’t in the market for love or anything remotely related to the romance realm.

“Let me get it.”

“What?” Ash jumps, spins around. Claire has appeared, an espresso in her hand. “No. I can’t let you do that.”

“Please.” Claire smiles. “We both know nothing would piss Don off more.”

Ash laughs, then shakes her head. “I really appreciate it. I do. But I’m a fully grown woman. I can buy my own dress.”

“Then do it,” Delaney goads.

Ash narrows her eyes.

“Delaney,” Claire chides. Sips her drink. “We’ve talked about this. There’s no peer pressure in shopping.”

But Ash takes the bait and, on a whim, buys the ridiculous dress. It’s more money than she should spend, but what is savings if she can’t treat herself and then spiral guiltily afterward? As she leaves the store, the fancy boutique bag feels like a bomb in her hand. Only a good type of bomb. One loaded with rainbows and confetti and happiness. It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way. Like she’s belonged. Like she has it together.

“How about manicures before dinner?” Claire asks, her wispy voice smoking between them. “My treat.” Her eyes land on Ash, and she gives a little nod as if to say you too .

Oh.

Stunned, Ash follows Claire and Delaney into a tiny nail salon. The room is half-empty. Tropical fish swim in wall-to-wall tanks. TVs play episodes of The Real Housewives . Crystals dangle from the ceiling.

They’re quickly ushered into chairs. Glasses of champagne magically appear in their hands.

Is this what it feels like to be let into the Whitford circle of excellence? Manicures and mimosas? Either way, she’ll take it.

Ash sits in the middle of Delaney and Claire. Her mind swims, searching for something to say. An appropriate topic.

Her mind lights on Nathaniel. Of course it’d be Nathaniel. Everything she likes about him. Everything she’s trying not to like too. His hard exterior full of broody frowns and stern brows. But inside, he’s like a Cadbury egg. All gooey and soft. How it’s an honor to crack that shell and scoop out his goodness. His thoughts. How he’s a stickler about time, a hard-ass to his siblings, but it’s only because he cares so much. He doesn’t know how to show it any other way. How every night, he fucks her senseless and leaves her begging for more.

But yeah, no. That’s not the way to Claire’s heart.

Thankfully, it’s Delaney who pipes up.

“By the way.” The pink-haired woman claps her hands. “I got the part in Adieu, My Friend . I just heard from my agent. I fly to France next month.” A squeal bubbles out of her. “My entire résumé is going to be slasher flicks.”

“I approve of this,” Ash says, lifting her champagne in a toast.

“I’m so proud of you,” Claire says, leaning forward to smile at her daughter. “That you’re making your own way, DeeDee. That nothing has stopped you.”

Delaney flushes. “Thanks, Mom.”

When the conversation quiets, Ash asks, “Why didn’t you ever take over Augustus’s company?” She bites her lip, hoping she hasn’t atom-bombed what little headway she’s made with Claire.

Delaney puts her phone down and shifts to face her mother, interest lighting her expression.

Claire takes on a faraway look. Like she’s shuffling through memories. Reliving the past.

“I don’t know. I suppose I had babies. And then…your father didn’t want me to work.”

“Ugh,” Delaney groans, rolling her eyes at Ash.

“Oh, trust me, I wanted Fox Hotels. I have a degree in business. But life happened.” She exhales as she sticks her feet in the foot bath. Her blue eyes return to Ash, Delaney. “Girls, sometimes it’s a shit lesson to learn this late in life.”

The curse word feels out of place coming from Claire’s mouth, but both Ash and Delaney stare, riveted.

“But…I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself rather than focusing on what others wanted of me.”

Instantly, the air in her lungs ceases, every inch of her chest stinging.

Her job, this trip, Nathaniel, those are true things. After all those years she spent searching for purpose, for herself, she’s finally found it. She’s put herself first.

“It’s never too late to unstick,” Ash tells her. “To change.”

Claire’s chin dips as she smiles. “Maybe so.”

The women settle into silence as their nail techs take their seats in front of them. Ash accepts the ring of nail colors, even though she’s going with her tried and true.

“This color,” Claire says, tapping a nail against a swatch of black. She looks at Ash, looks at the salon tech. “Like hers.”

Ash’s jaw drops.

Laughing, Delaney claps her hands. “Fuck yeah, Mom.”

Ash’s heart is a balloon on a string. Lightening, lifting. For once, she feels like Maui might just be okay. Like she can get through it. Survive.