Chapter 2 - Just Play Along
Marlo's first instinct was to run upstairs.
Lock the apartment.
Hold Poppy.
Call someone.
The problem was that she didn't know who.
Her parents were gone. Her closest friends had families and problems of their own. Ruthie Pike, who owned the flower shop two blocks away, would have come swinging a vase if Marlo asked her to, but Ruthie wasn't an attorney.
And Preston had brought one.
"Where is she?" Preston asked.
Marlo stepped sideways, positioning herself between him and the kitchen.
"At school."
It was a lie.
Poppy was ten yards away.
Preston glanced toward the kitchen doorway.
Marlo prayed Poppy understood.
The lawyer opened his briefcase.
"Ms. Hart, my name is Graham Voss. I represent Mr. Ashby regarding certain family matters."
"Family matters."
Marlo looked at Preston.
"Interesting phrase considering you've barely acted like family."
Preston's jaw tightened.
"Let's not do this."
"Do what?"
"Turn everything into a fight."
"You walked into my bakery with a lawyer."
"Because you don't listen."
Marlo felt her pulse climbing.
She forced herself to lower her voice.
"Poppy is sick."
"Exactly."
One word.
That was all.
Exactly.
But Marlo heard the threat underneath it.
Preston stepped closer.
"She needs stability."
"She has stability."
"She lives above a bakery that's barely surviving."
"She lives with her mother."
"She needs surgery."
"I know what my daughter needs."
"Can you pay for it?"
The question hit harder than Marlo expected.
She said nothing.
Preston saw that.
His lawyer saw it too.
Then the bell rang.
Marlo looked toward the door.
Mr. Apricot had returned.
For the first time in almost a year, he had broken his routine.
He walked toward the counter holding a pair of black leather gloves.
He must have left them.
Marlo's mind moved before reason could stop it.
Preston was wealthy.
Preston respected money.
More importantly, Preston respected power.
And Mr. Apricot looked like power wearing a black suit.
Marlo stepped around the counter.
She crossed the distance between them.
His eyes narrowed slightly as she approached.
She reached for his hand.
The contact shocked both of them.
His hand was warm.
Marlo wrapped her fingers around it.
Then she looked directly into his eyes.
"Just play along," she whispered.
His expression didn't change.
Behind her, Preston said, "Marlo?"
She squeezed the stranger's hand.
Please.
She didn't say it aloud.
She didn't need to.
For one terrible second, nothing happened.
Then Mr. Apricot turned his hand beneath hers.
His fingers slid between hers.
Not awkwardly.
Not reluctantly.
Deliberately.
He intertwined their fingers and stepped beside her.
Marlo almost forgot how to breathe.
Preston stared at their hands.
"And this is?"
Marlo opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
She hadn't planned that far.
The stranger saved her.
"Elias Marchetti."
Silence.
Then something struck the glass counter.
Click.
Everyone looked.
The lawyer's pen had fallen from his hand.
Graham Voss stared at Elias.
All the color had disappeared from his face.
Preston noticed.
"Graham?"
The lawyer bent quickly to retrieve his pen.
"We should go."
Preston frowned.
"What?"
"We should reschedule."
"We just got here."
"I understand."
Graham snapped his briefcase closed.
"Nevertheless, I strongly recommend that we continue this discussion at another time."
Preston looked from his attorney to Elias.
For the first time since walking through the door, Preston appeared uncertain.
Elias said nothing.
That seemed to make it worse.
Preston's eyes returned to Marlo.
"This isn't finished."
"No," Marlo said. "It isn't."
He walked toward the door.
Graham followed.
At the threshold, Preston stopped.
He looked back at Elias.
And Marlo saw something she had never expected to see on Preston Ashby's face.
Fear.
The door closed.
Marlo stood frozen.
Only then did she realize she was still holding Elias's hand.
She released it immediately.
"Oh my God."
Elias looked at his hand.
Then at her.
"I am so sorry."
"For?"
"Using you as an imaginary boyfriend."
One corner of his mouth moved.
"Boyfriend?"
"I panicked."
"So I noticed."
"I shouldn't have grabbed you."
"No."
"I shouldn't have lied."
"Probably not."
"And I definitely shouldn't have dragged you into whatever disaster my life has become."
He glanced toward the money he'd left earlier.
"Consider the tip payment for the performance."
Marlo stared at him.
Then, despite everything, a laugh escaped her.
It was brief.
Almost hysterical.
But it was real.
Elias picked up his gloves.
Marlo watched him.
"Elias."
He stopped.
It was strange finally having a name for him.
"Why was that lawyer afraid of you?"
The amusement disappeared.
For several seconds, Elias said nothing.
Then he put on one glove.
"Ask your florist."
Marlo blinked.
"What?"
But Elias was already walking away.
"Wait. How do you know Ruthie?"
He stopped at the door.
He didn't turn around.
"I know a lot of people."
Then he left.
Marlo watched the black sedan disappear.
Behind her came a tiny voice.
"Mom?"
She turned.
Poppy stood in the kitchen doorway.
"Was that Dad?"
Marlo's heart broke a little.
She walked over and knelt.
"Yes."
"Is he taking me?"
The question destroyed whatever composure Marlo had left.
"No."
She pulled Poppy against her.
"No, baby."
"You promise?"
Marlo closed her eyes.
She wanted to say yes.
Instead she held her tighter.
"I promise I'm going to fight."
That evening, after closing the bakery, Marlo replayed the scene again and again.
Preston.
The lawyer.
Elias.
The dropped pen.
Ask your florist.
By midnight, she had decided Elias was simply some wealthy businessman Graham knew.
By morning, she had almost convinced herself.
Then she walked into Ruthie Pike's flower shop.
Ruthie was trimming roses.
Marlo leaned against the counter.
"Do you know a man named Elias Marchetti?"
The scissors stopped.
Ruthie slowly raised her head.
"What did you just say?"
"Elias Marchetti."
Ruthie set the scissors down.
"Why?"
Marlo hesitated.
Then said, "I held his hand yesterday."
Ruthie's face went completely blank.
May you like
"You did what?"
And suddenly Marlo realized that Graham Voss had not been the only person frightened by Elias's name.
