New Uses For Old Boyfriends (25 page)

“W
e believe the fire started in the vehicle, then spread to the building,” the fire chief told Lila, Malcolm, and Ben as they gazed at the charred remains of Unfinished Business. “Our team is still working, so we're going to have to ask you to stay back.”

Through the dim lighting afforded by the streetlamps and the nearby businesses, Lila could make out the hulking twist of metal that had once been her FUV.

“But how?” She coughed and pulled her sleeve over her mouth. The smell of ash and smoke was overwhelming. “How did this happen? My car wasn't even working.” She turned and appealed to Ben, who seemed to be handling this news much better than she was. “Oh my God. I burned your building down.”

Malcolm placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.

The firefighter's face was streaked with gray smudges. “We won't know for sure until we finish a full investigation, but we think there might have been an electrical short in the vehicle's wiring console.” He stared at Lila. “Did you leave anything plugged into the dashboard?”

She tried to remember. Although she'd been here only a few hours ago, it felt like days. “My cell phone charger.”

He nodded. “Was there anything flammable by the front seats? Maps, receipts, cardboard?”

“I might have left my coat on the passenger seat. It was so warm outside.” Lila flinched, imagining the pink fabric igniting in a sudden burst of flame. Then she remembered the contents of the backseat. “The Bob Mackie!” She slipped on a puddle of filthy water and nearly fell down. “The Goyard trunk!”

“Ma'am, we're going to ask you to stay back.”

“I need to check the cargo area!”

Malcolm put both hands on Lila's shoulders and pulled her back. “Stop. Whatever was in the backseat is burned to a crisp.”

“But—”

“Lila.” His voice was low but firm. “Look at your car.”

There was hardly anything left to look at. The heated leather seats, backseat DVD player, endless array of cup holders—gone.

The side-impact air bags, wood-paneled dashboard, surround sound audio system—gone.

The broken backup camera, the engine glitches, the assist steps that had left all those bruises on her shins—gone.

And her mother's couture collection, fifty years' worth of ball gowns and bustiers and boleros—
gone
.

Now she had nothing. No safety net. No way to keep the promises she'd made to her mother and herself. Their last chance to save themselves from financial ruin had literally gone up in smoke.

“I hope you had insurance for your merchandise,” the firefighter said.

Lila didn't realize she was crying until she started laughing. At which point, Malcolm took her into his arms. He didn't try to comfort her or convince her it wasn't that bad. He just held on to her while her whole world rolled right off its axis.

She closed her eyes and leaned into him and felt the cool wind drying her damp cheeks.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'll be fine.” She was surprised to hear how steady her own voice sounded. “But what am I going to say to my mother?”

*   *   *

Daphne had already heard the news by the time Malcolm and Lila pulled up in front of her home. She was waiting, slender and slouched like a reed in a strong wind, on the front porch.

Lila put her hand over Malcolm's on the steering wheel. “Give us a minute,” she said. “She won't want to break down in front of a man.” The she slammed out of the Jeep and ran to her mother's side.

“I'm sorry, Mom. So, so, so sorry.” Lila engulfed her in a hug and braced herself for tears and hysterics and laments that there was no way to save the house now.

Daphne didn't hug her back. Instead, she pulled out of Lila's embrace, got to her feet, and planted her hands on her hips.

“How did this
happen
, young lady?”

Lila could still smell traces of acrid smoke in her hair. “Well . . .”

“Deputy Sanderson said that ridiculous SUV of yours just burst into flames?”

“I don't understand it, either.” Lila recounted what the firefighters had said about the FUV. “The electrical system was always wonky. Ben kept telling me to get it checked, and I meant to get around to it, but—”

“But you were too busy taking care of the house and the store.” Daphne wrapped one hand around the porch railing. “And me.”

Lila hung her head in shame. “I was also too busy to make sure we had inventory insurance.” She didn't dare look up at her
mother. “Everything's gone and it's my fault.” She remembered the note of pride in her father's voice when he spoke of this house, the palace by the sea he'd built for his wife and daughter.

She could hear her mother sniffling, and sure enough, when she finally glanced up, tears were streaming down Daphne's face.

“Well, that's it, then,” Daphne murmured, her body sagging against a support post. “It's over. It's done. This house is as good as gone.” She gave herself a little shake, straightened up, and turned back toward the door.

“Wh-where are you going?” Lila trailed after her.

Daphne's stride barely slowed as she pushed open the front door. Then she stopped in the front hall to check her reflection in the antique Italian glass mirror. She smoothed back her hair, she pinched her cheeks, and then she announced, “I'm going to take a long, hot bath. I'm going to go to bed. And tomorrow morning, I'm going to call that Realtor and have her list the house for sale.”

Her mother's sudden segue into brisk efficiency alarmed Lila more than tears and hysterics ever could. “Maybe there's still a way to save it,” Lila said. “Give me a day or two to figure this out. There has to be some other option, something we haven't thought of yet.”

“I spent thirty-three years decorating and redecorating these rooms.” Daphne glanced around the darkened foyer, her expression unreadable. “Thirty-three
years
.”

“I know.” Lila's chest tightened as a whole new level of guilt and regret set in. “You poured your heart and soul into it.”

“Wrong.” Daphne cut her off with a swift chopping motion. “This is—was—my
house
, Lila. Wood and metal and plaster. Not my heart. Not my soul.”

“But you love it,” Lila said.

Daphne's expression slackened as she stopped looking at the artwork and furniture and looked down at her hands. “I loved the people who lived here. But your father's gone and you've grown
up, and I'm, well . . . I'm not exactly sure who I am these days. But I can't go back to who I was before I got married, and I can't stay here and pretend nothing's changed. This”—Daphne gestured to Lila's disheveled, soot-stained clothing—“is a sign.”

“A sign?”

“A sign that it's time for me to move on.”

“Move on to where?” Lila could hear the panic in her own voice.

“You know, I've been thinking about that.” Daphne adopted the cool, calculating mannerisms she displayed when wearing her glasses. “And I think I'm going to call Cedric and ask if he knows of any vintage clothing dealers who need a buyer. Remember Tara, that woman I almost had to assault for the monokini? I could do her job.”

“But she travels, Mom. Constantly. By herself. To, like, London and Shanghai and Dubai.”

“I'm not afraid to go to Dubai by myself.” Daphne hesitated. “All right, maybe I am, but I'll just have to deal with it. I traveled for work once upon a time and I'll learn to do it again. Because this house . . .” Her voice, her eyes, her whole body seemed lighter. “Is gone.” She breathed in slowly and exhaled with evident relief. “We'll call Whitney tomorrow. She can fax me whatever I need to sign.”

“Nobody faxes anything these days, Mom. We'll have to scan it.”

“Whatever you think is best.” Daphne turned to her daughter with a mix of fear and hope in her eyes. “Or do you think it's too late? Maybe I am too old to start over.”

“You're not,” Lila said firmly.

“You really think I can do it?”

“I know you can.” Lila swallowed.
But what about me?

As if she'd spoken aloud, her mother turned to her and cupped her cheeks. “I'll get to go back to the world I always loved.
And you'll be free, sweet pea. You won't have to worry about me all the time.”

Lila ruined the perfect mother-daughter moment by laughing. “Sorry, I know this is serious, but you smell like a tequila distillery.”

Daphne burst out laughing, too. “We had such a good time at the Whinery. If I had known what it was like in there, I would have been going for margaritas every weekend!”

“Oh boy.”

“I've been a well-behaved wife and mother for a very long time.” Daphne managed an off-balance little twirl. “I have a lot of time to make up for.”

Lila rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I'm not sure how I feel about letting you loose in London and New York and Brussels.”

“Feel however you want about it—I'm the mother, so it's my decision.” Daphne's laugh turned into a diabolical little cackle. “Don't worry; I'll call you every day. Maybe I'll even text. Who knows what I'll do?” She was looking younger and more energized by the moment.

Lila, however, felt suddenly exhausted. “One thing at a time. Let's get cleaned up and go to bed. You can sleep on all this and reevaluate in the morning.”

“There's nothing to reevaluate,” Daphne declared. “My house, my boutique, my clothes—I know this was never your dream. It was mine. You put your life on hold to help me, but now it's your turn. You're free.” Daphne patted Lila's cheek, then turned toward the staircase.

Lila glanced back toward the driveway, where Malcolm was waiting for her. “So . . . does this mean I can go spend the night at my boyfriend's house?”

Daphne looked over her shoulder and followed Lila's gaze.
“Oh, it's official? The delectable marine has been promoted to boyfriend?”

“He's very persuasive.” Lila hugged her mother again and this time, Daphne hugged back. “I am really and truly sorry I burned up all your vintage couture.”

“Well, look on the bright side: Neither one of us will ever have to tell Mimi Sinclair that her husband buys her fake handbags.”

T
he remains of the FUV looked even more stark and soulless in the cold light of day. The molten metal frame had collapsed in on itself and the fire department had ripped off the hood and the doors in their efforts to determine the cause of the blaze. Most of the boutique's wooden framework had been consumed by the fire, but part of the exterior south wall still stood, and a snarl of pipes and wires jutted from the ground.

Emergency crew workers were shoveling mounds of soot and debris, and Lila felt a pang as she considered that, just yesterday, this pile of rubble had been painstakingly preserved cocktail dresses and evening gowns and pantsuits.

One of the workers noticed her and waved her over. He tucked his helmet under his arm as he approached. “Are you the vehicle owner?”

Lila nodded.

“Tell me you have auto insurance.”

“I have auto insurance,” she confirmed. “The car dealership wouldn't let me drive off the lot without it.”

“Call your insurance company and tell them it's a total loss,”
he said. “You'll have to check your coverage, but they'll probably replace your vehicle with one just like it.”

Lila exhaled suddenly, almost choking on her laugh. “God forbid.”

The man gave her a wary look, then stepped aside as two firefighters approached, lugging a rectangular container that was burned and blackened but still intact. “You're the vehicle owner? Here you go. Everything in the front seat was destroyed, but we did manage to salvage this from the back.”

“Is that . . .” Lila tried to tamp down the excitement swirling up, warning herself not to hope. “Is that the Goyard?”

With the workers' help, she moved the trunk to a bare patch of asphalt on the far side of the alley. The hinges and latch had been welded shut by the heat, but someone produced a crowbar and pried off the lid. The exterior of the priceless antique trunk was scorched beyond repair, but inside . . .

“It survived.” Lila pulled out the delicate black and lavender lace gown. “It's still perfect.” She gazed at the airy, delicate tulle. Not so much as a single smudge. “I can't believe it.”

“I can't believe it, either.” One of the firefighters examined the construction of the trunk. “That thing must be lined in asbestos or something.”

“That's how they made 'em back in the day,” the other one replied.

“It's a miracle,” Lila breathed. Her mother's words echoed in her mind:
You put your dreams on hold, but now it's your turn. You're free.

Here was her chance to start fresh, without guilt or expectations. She could go anywhere, do anything.

But she found she didn't want to let go of her past and chase new dreams.

She wanted to stay here and finish what she'd started.

“Check it out—you made the front page of the
Black Dog Bay Bulletin
.” Jenna waved from the other side of the wreckage, then made her way over to Lila. She had the local newspaper tucked under her arm and a stainless steel travel mug in her hand. “How're you holding up?”

Lila surveyed the destruction spread out before them. “I'm still in denial, which is working out pretty well for me.”

“How's your mom?” Jenna asked.

“She's taking it in stride.” Lila nibbled her lip, relieved to be able to share her concerns with someone. “Says she's going to sell the house, go hole up with her fashion icon ex-boyfriend in Belgium for the summer, and try to get back into the vintage clothing business.”

“Wow. Talk about bouncing back.”

“Yeah. I thought she'd be devastated, but I think she's handling this better than I am, to be honest.”

Jenna sighed, then sipped her coffee. “Maybe a fresh start is just what she needs.”

“Maybe.” Lila accepted the newspaper Jenna offered and skimmed the front-page article. “But she was
invested
in that house. Hours and hours and I don't want to even think how many thousands of dollars . . .”

Jenna took another slow sip of coffee. “Sometimes your biggest investments become burdens.”

Lila glanced over at the bar owner. “Oh yeah?”

Jenna straightened her shoulders and put on a smile. “Don't listen to me—I'm just cranky and bitter because I haven't had enough caffeine yet. And I'm on my way to the Whinery to meet a plumber.”

“That's never good.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Everyone got a little carried away at karaoke last night, and a bunch of women stormed the ladies' room and held a mass burial at sea for some of the stuff their exes had given them.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. Watches and bracelets and an opera-length string of pearls and who knows what else. Well, I guess the plumber will know if he can ever fish it all out of the pipes.”

Lila wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“Yeah. And plumbers are expensive.” Jenna scowled. “You know what else is expensive? Gold and silver and diamonds. Those crazy broads basically flushed money down the toilet!”

“Not as much as you might think.” Lila recounted her experience with the estate jeweler in Philadelphia.

“Well, with the number of freshly divorced women trying to unload their wedding rings around here, you'd think someone would have filled that market niche by now.” Jenna folded the newspaper up and marched off to meet the plumber.

“Yes,” Lila said slowly. “You'd think.”