Presley Estates, Wesbury
Standing in the master suite, my heart racing, Iâm on the phone with my Aunt Emma, trying to convince her to intervene in a situation thatâs spiraling out of control, but itâs not going the way I want it.
âAunty, it has to be this week, before Thursday. We canât let this fall apart,â I plead, as I pace back and forth in the spacious room.
âIâll see if I can make time,â she responds, but her hesitance is clear.
âAunty, please. You have to come to Wesbury. Your friends can wait,â I say, desperation seeping into my voice.
âIâll try,â she says, but sheâs not promising anything.
âYouâre the only one who can get through to Duke, and make him listen. This is more important.â I press on, my frustration mounting.
âMaybe I can call him?â She offers a compromise.
âNo, Aunty. It has to be in person. Phone calls just donât work with him, especially not for something this important,â I argue, feeling the burden of the situation.
She suggests waiting. âCanât it wait until Saturday?â
âIt canât wait,â I insist. âThe procedures are scheduled for Thursday. We canât postpone.â
Sheâs still reluctant. âI canât talk to Duke before Thursday. Iâm at a retreat.â
I canât hide my exasperation. âOh my God, Aunty. Why canât you prioritize this?â
âItâs not that simple,â she starts to explain.
âYouâre at a health retreat, having fun. Thatâs not urgent. Why canât you leave?â Iâm nearly pleading now.
âI came with friends. Iâm supposed to be part of the program tomorrow.â She explains her commitment.
Iâm almost begging now. âPlease, Aunt. You can ask for permission to leave.â
She offers a last resort. âLet me try calling him.â
I agree, but without much hope. âFine, try calling. But I donât think heâll listen.â
She then asks, âDo you think Aisling knows?â
I pause, the weight of the situation sinking in. âIâm not sure, but everything is falling apart.â
âShe knows something, Aunt,â I say, the words sending a cold wave through me.
âTo what extent?â she asks.
âI canât be sure, but she knows. The devil-shaped cookies she sent me, with that thank you note? Itâs a clear message,â I explain, my heart racing just thinking about it.
A soft gasp from her side makes me shift slightly. âAre you sure itâs not just a⦠coincidence?â
âNo, Aunt.â
âShe definitely knows something then,â she muses.
âYeah, she does.â
âSo how did she find out?â
âIâm shocked, Aunt. I have no idea how she couldâve found out,â I say, the confusion clear.
âSomebody must be talking,â she suggests.
âYeah, and who knows who it might be,â I reply, the uncertainty growing.
âItâs bad.â She finally acknowledges the gravity of the situation.
âBut we canât let this stop the process,â I argue, clinging to my resolve.
âWe might have to wait, Anne. We need to be careful now,â she advises.
âNo, Aunt, we canât let this stop us,â I insist.
âIâm not sure whatâs going to happen next. We need to step back for now,â she says, her words hitting me like a blow.
âWhy should we step back, Aunt?â I ask, my frustration mounting.
âWe donât know the full extent of what Aisling knows. Itâs safer to pause and figure out whoâs leaking information,â she explains.
âWhy should we stop or wait because of this?â I am unable to hide my annoyance.
âItâs necessary, Anne,â she says firmly.
âWhy does it matter so much?â I ask, my frustration boiling over.
âAisling is your sonâs wife, Anne. She deserves some respect,â she says, making me roll my eyes.
Throwing my hands up, I canât contain my frustration any longer. âRespect? Weâve been respectful! If we were outright deceitful, it was only because we wanted to shield her. But now? It might be too late for that!â
âAnne..â
âSo what? Isnât this whole plan because she hasnât given us what we wanted?â I canât hold back my resentment any longer.
âBut she shouldnât have found out. We have to be discreet,â she argues.
I feel defiance rise within me. âYou know what, Aunt Emma? I donât care anymore.â My words are defiant, a clear stand against her caution.
âWell then, itâs over.â
âNo, Aunt, you canât just dismiss this,â I counter her chiding.
âWhat do you want me to do then?â
âSo we need to be upfront with Aisling now that she knows,â I argue, feeling a sense of urgency.
âNo, Anne, thatâs not the way,â she protests.
âAunty, weâre out of time,â I say. âWhatâs the plan now? Expect Aisling to have the baby for us?â
âNo, listen to me,â she tries to interject.
âBut she knows. We should just be honest with her now, and move onâ I insist, feeling desperate.
âI donât agree with that approach,â she resists.
âAnne, we canât hurt her. Duke loves her,â she reminds me. âThereâs a plan for Aisling to adopt the baby later. She wasnât supposed to find out like this. We need to step back now and reassess.â
My heart feels heavy. âBut Duke needs a baby by April.â
âWeâll resume the plan before then,â she assures me.
âWhat if itâs too late by then? Aislingâs already sending signals with those cookies. Sheâs planning something too,â I argue, my mind racing with all the possibilities.
âThatâs exactly why we need to be cautious and observe her actions,â she reasons.
âI wanted her out of the Chateau by the anniversary. That was the plan,â I say, my frustration boiling over now.
âAnne, think about Duke. If you hurt Aisling, you hurt him. You canât just force her out without consequences. Their hearts are intertwined,â she warns me, her words hitting hard. I know sheâs right.
âBut what am I supposed to do? Weâre running out of time,â I plead, feeling cornered. âWe canât let her dictate the situation.â
I hear her sigh deeply. âAnne, this conversation is going nowhere. Youâre not listening.â
âAunt, please,â I say, but I can tell sheâs made up her mind.
âIâll be there this weekend. Weâll talk then,â she says, ending the call.
Left alone with my thoughts, I feel a mix of urgency and helplessness. We need to act, but every option seems fraught with risk.
I tap my fingers impatiently on the lavish marble countertop, waiting for Trinaâs familiar voice on the other end of the phone line. When she answers, her voice is a welcome to my fraying nerves.
âTrina, Aunt Emma is at some retreat!â I vent, feeling a prickling irritation at the back of my neck. âOf all the times, she chooses now?â
âOh, no,â Trina says.
âAunt Emmaâs not coming until the weekend,â I say, feeling the irritation bubble up inside me.
Trinaâs confusion is clear. âBut why not?â
âSheâs at some seniorsâ retreat in Parkway,â I explain, rolling my eyes.
âWhenâs she coming back?â Trina asks.
âNot until the weekend,â I reply.
Trina repeats, âThe weekend?â
âYes, and sheâs even suggesting Simone take a break,â I say, my frustration growing.
âA break? For what?â Trina sounds just as frustrated.
âTo âassess the situation.â Aisling knows, so now weâre supposed to just step back. Can you believe it?â I say, my tone bitter.
âI didnât expect that from your aunt,â Trina admits.
âI think sheâs having too much fun with her cocktails at that retreat,â I mutter cynically.
âSo whatâs our plan now?â Trinaâs question is urgent.
âWeâre not waiting,â I declare firmly.
âSo what are you thinking?â she asks.
âIâm going to invite Aisling over for lunch tomorrow,â I say, my plan forming in my mind.
Trinaâs concern is immediate. âFor what?â
âTo talk. Woman to woman. She sent me those devil cookies. I need to thank her and also tell her everything. Thereâs no point in secrecy now,â I argue, feeling the need to confront the situation head-on.
Trina warns me, âNo, Anne. Thatâs not a good idea. It could start a huge mess.â
âWhat are you scared of?â I ask, feeling defiant.
âThink about your son. Howâs he going to take this?â Trinaâs voice is filled with worry.
I pause, considering her words. âWellâ¦â
âRemember him, Anne. If you do this, we might lose him, and itâll be over for all of us,â she cautions.
I sigh, feeling cornered. âSo, what now?â
âWe wait for your aunt to come back,â Trina suggests, her tone suggesting itâs the only sensible option we have.