Starlight On Willow Lake

“And she’s terrific. Besides, it’s the caregiver’s job to look after Mom. Not the housekeeper.”

“She needs assistance, not to be under surveillance,” Ivy said.

“Maybe she does, if she’s sneaking upstairs.” Mason spent more time than anyone imagined thinking about their mother. On that day a year ago, their father had suffered the ultimate tragedy. Everyone—himself included—said their mother was lucky to be alive.

She didn’t consider herself lucky, though. From the moment she had been told the spinal injury meant she would never walk again—much less ski, salsa dance, cliff dive, run a triathlon or even drive a car—she had raged against her fate. Anyone who dared to mention to her face that she was lucky to be alive risked a tongue-lashing.

After multiple surgeries, drug therapies and intensive rehab, Alice had agreed to move to Avalon to settle into her new life as a widow and a quadriplegic, determined to find what independence she could. Avalon was the town where Adam lived, on the shores of the prettiest lake in Ulster County, just a couple of hours by train from New York City.

Each of the three Bellamy offspring played their part. Adam, a firefighter with training as an EMT, now lived over the boathouse on the property Mason had bought for their mother after the accident. Adam was hands-on when it came to caring for people, and it was a relief to have a family member on the premises for their mom.

Mason was responsible for making sure their mother had everything she needed to create her new life in Avalon. He had provided her with a sprawling lakeside estate, the house and grounds adapted to her needs and large enough to accommodate a staff. The historic compound, on the sun-drenched shores of Willow Lake, had been remodeled and retrofitted for his mother’s motorized wheelchair, with ramps, wide doorways and an elevator, an intercom system and a network of graded pathways outdoors. There was a private gym equipped for physical therapy, a heated pool, sauna and spa, and a dock and boathouse with ramps and hoists. She had a full staff, including a Balinese chef with Cordon Bleu credentials, a driver, and living quarters for a resident home health aide.

Everybody had a role. Mason thought it was working. But apparently, there was now no resident caregiver.

“What did you mean when you said they all quit?” he asked Adam.

“Like I told you before, you’d understand if you’d go see her. Ivy lives on the West Coast and she manages to visit more often than you do, and you’re just down in the city.”

Ivy’s role was more amorphous, but just as vital. Sometimes it seemed to Mason that she did her part by simply being adorable and loving and supportive. Ten years younger than her brother, she was the kind of person who could walk into a room and fill it with light. During the early days after the accident, Ivy was as vital to their mother as pure oxygen.

“Mom doesn’t need my company,” Mason pointed out. “I set her up in the best house we could find, hired a full staff, had the place retrofitted for her and the chair. I don’t know what the hell else I can do.”

“Sometimes you don’t have to do anything,” said Ivy. “Sometimes just being there is all she needs.”

“Not from me.” He checked the calendar on his phone. “So she’s already had the surgery to fix her collarbone. How long will she have to stay in the hospital?”

“Probably not long,” Adam said. “We’ll know more when we meet with the doctors.” He sat forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees. “Listen, I was going to tell you this over dinner tonight. You’re going to be in charge of Mom for the next few months—maybe longer.”

Mason dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “I can’t even stay a few hours. I’m supposed to go to LA with Regina the day after tomorrow,” he said. “She set up a meeting with a major new client.”

He didn’t deem it prudent to mention at this time that he and Regina—his colleague as well as his girlfriend—had built a few days of surfing in Malibu into their work schedule.

“You’re going to have to cancel it,” Adam said simply. “You need to stay with Mom.”

“What the hell do you mean, stay with her?”

“Live at the lake house. Make the place your base of operations.”

Mason recoiled. “What’s this about?”

“I have to go away for a while,” Adam said. “Special training. For work.”

Mason immediately turned to Ivy.

She put up both hands, palms out. “My fellowship in Paris, remember? The one I’ve been working toward for the past five years? It starts next month.”

“Postpone it.”

“Right. I’ll just tell the director of the Institut de Paume to keep a slot open for me.” Ivy raised her sunglasses and fixed him with an intense glare. “You’re up, bro.”

“Okay, fine, but I’m not moving up to the Catskills. I’ll have my assistant find another live-in aide.”

“Damn it,” Adam said. “Mom needs family. She needs you.”

Mason had provided a lengthy roster of hired help, material things and creature comforts for their mother. He had spared no expense—elevators, adaptive devices—nothing was too good for Alice Bellamy.

Thanks to Mason, she wanted for nothing.

Except the one thing no one could give her, and all of Mason’s millions could never provide.

Some troubles could not be solved by throwing money at them.

Yet he couldn’t imagine anything worse than being trapped in a small town with his bitter, wounded mother with whom—unlike his brother and sister—he’d had a rocky relationship since he was a teenager.

And now he was expected to move in with her.

Oh, hell, no, he thought.

“What kind of special training?” he asked Adam.

“I’m getting certified in arson investigation. I’ll be up in Albany for twelve to sixteen weeks.”

“Seriously?”

“He’s having girl trouble,” Ivy said. “It’s the geographic cure.”

“Shut up, brat. I am not having girl trouble.”

“Okay, let’s call it lack of girl trouble.”

“What? Come on.” To Mason’s surprise, Adam’s face turned red. “It’s complicated. And speaking of complicated, exactly how many frogs have you kissed this year alone?”

Ivy often bemoaned the state of her love life, and Mason had no idea why. She was gorgeous, a total sweetheart, a little bit nutty, and everyone loved her. Just not the right guy, he supposed.

“You shut up,” she retorted, and Mason heard loud echoes of their childhood years seeping into the exchange.

“Both of you shut up,” he said. “Let’s focus on what to do about Mom.”

“Ivy’s going to Paris to get laid—”

“Hey.” She punched him in the arm.

“And I can’t change the dates of the training course to suit your travel schedule. You’re up, Mason.”

“But—”

“But nothing. It’s your turn to step up.”