by S. L. Scott
The box from my father had photos from my childhood, my mom growing up, her wedding pictures, and Braden as a baby. Broken glass from a framed picture of my mom holding me as a baby is scattered at the bottom. I dusted it off and put it in an album.
I try not to let my heart ache, but I’m mourning all three of their deaths these days. It’s easier to think of them gone forever than to think of them at all.
When McCoy Properties filed bankruptcy a few days ago, Ethan bid and won a portion of their Manhattan portfolio, including the building across the street from The Everest.
In a stroke of irony, the properties were sold the same day Kurt was denied bail for being a flight risk and locked in a French jail awaiting trial.
I’m not sure about the amenities or quality of life in a French prison, but I suspect it will be nicer than he deserves. I have never wished ill will on anyone before, but he and my brother are tied these days.
Journaling has helped to make sense of everything that’s happened to me. Seeing it on paper gets it out of my head. Reading my story makes it clear how easily they manipulated me. I regret ever walking into the McCoy offices, but the shame rests squarely on my father’s shoulders.
Kurt sang to the police the first night he was arrested in hopes of a reduced sentence. They hadn’t offered a plea bargain, but he was still begging for his freedom as if he could persuade them. He’s met his match.
I received a message the following afternoon from Lars. My father and Braden had been arrested that morning for kidnapping, conspiracy to commit a felony, and a list of other charges I lost track of. It didn’t take long for Braden to make his one call. With the company funds cut off and his inheritance burned through, I sent the call to voicemail.
I never heard from my father.
The evidence the police have gathered so far will put them both away for a very long time. They just spent all the money they have on bail, so getting an experienced lawyer is out of reach.
It may have taken me years to realize, but now that I see I was never going to get the love I deserved from him or be treated as an equal to my brother, I knew what I had to do. I’ve realized that their love is conditional. Unlike the Everests’ love—unconditional. So I have a process to follow.
Acknowledge the problem.
Address it.
Solve it.
Survive it.
I’ve done the first two. Now it’s time for the last two.
Under the shower spray, I wash my body and exhale, reminding myself to breathe. Don’t let the betrayal win. I’m healing through love, but I will not give another second of my time to their hate. They will never change, so I have to.
38
Winter
It’s been almost two months since I’ve been here and now nothing about this apartment feels like me anymore. The deep yellow couch and rich violet velvet drapes, the brushed bronze lamp, and the turquoise accents are so pretty, each piece chosen to make a statement. I bought it all, paid for it with my hard work and long hours, but now it reminds me of the apartment in Paris.
Too busy.
Too cluttered.
Too much of everything.
A pretty bow on the shell of the life I was leading.
A facade.
I prefer clean lines and warm leather these days. Sunlight that brings out the gold in soulful eyes and arms that wrap their love around me.
I was always searching for something to make me feel whole, to make me feel loved, to make me feel anything but shame in what I’d done. I never found it in a man, especially not the ones who were supposed to protect me. I found who I was when I turned toward the sun, soaking in his rays.
Bennett Everest walked right up to that table and into my life. He didn’t accept anything less than all of me and loved me more for it.
That’s a real man.
So I’ll spend my life giving thanks in the ways he deserves—kisses, support, laughter, and love. I turn to find him waiting by the door as if needing an invitation. He’s invited into my life. Wherever I go, I want him with me.
I pause knowing someone else has been here. My belongings touched. This feeling in my gut twists, but I carry on. Get in. Get out. I empty the basket of mail I’ve collected while I was gone onto the coffee table. “This place feels like a betrayal to what we’re building together.”
“Our life,” he says, not missing a beat. He walks around, looking at the décor and the few photos I have displayed on the coffee table. Picking up my favorite, he says, “I like this one of you and your mom. We should put it in our living room.” Glancing up, he holds it out for me.
“Just like that, you want my stuff mixed with yours?”
A question was never asked or a conversation had about moving in with him. We just fell into a life together. It’s a life I don’t ever want to fall out of. It’s a relationship I’m willing to work for when the honeymoon dating stage is over.
“Just like that.”
I want to hug him, bury myself in his arms, and disappear for a little while. “I’d like that very much.”
“You can bring anything you like. I want your input. I want your touch. I was even thinking we could put a few photos of us around the place.” The simple offer awakens a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. After setting the frame down, he sits on the couch. “I want it to feel like your home as much as mine. I know you didn’t choose it, but it’s safe and—”
“I love it there. I do feel safe, and we have great neighbors.” Moving around the sofa, I wrap my arms around his middle and look up at him.
“We do.” His smile makes my heart happy. He also makes it incredibly hard to stay on task. “I’ll look around for a few items I want to keep, but I’ve lived without most of it for so long, I think I’m ready to get rid of everything.”
“What about the apartment itself?”
“Including that. It’s time to close the door forever.” I shuffle through the mail that arrived after I was kidnapped that night. Just acknowledging that I was taken is another step on the healing staircase. I had my rights taken away, my choice, my life. “It’s time to part ways. So you’re totally good with having a full-time roommate?”
He sits back patiently. “If it’s you, I’ve been all in since the moment I saw you in that pink sweater at the bistro.”
“I was wearing pink?” The sweetness causes me to stay because I don’t want to miss a word of this.
“I remember thinking you were the only thing I saw under that overcast sky. A burst of color on a rainy day.”
“You need to stop being so romantic, or we’re going to be stuck here hours longer than planned.”
Sitting forward, ready to leap at an invitation, he asks, “In bed?”
I burst out laughing as I continue to sort the mail. “Later. We have work to do.”
“What’s this?” I look over at the envelope in his hands. Three addresses, crowd the front, and two red undeliverable stamps.
“Huh.” I take it from him and turn it over several times. The date is from December of last year. “I’m not sure, but someone has tried to get it to me for almost a year now.” I rip it open while reading the different stamps and the addresses marked on it. “This was delivered to the house where we lived with my mom. Then it was sent to the apartment where my father raised us. I guess Fred turned it away.”
“Interesting. It finally made it here.”
“The return address is a lawyer’s office.” I pull out the paper inside and unfold it. The first thing that catches my eyes is a silver key. My mouth falls open because so much makes sense now. “This is what my father wanted from me.”
“What is it?”
“The missing key to the locket.” Tears flood my eyes when I see my mom’s signature at the bottom of the letter written on a lawyer’s letterhead. The law office sounds vaguely familiar, but I’m more interested in the letter itself to dwell on it. Covering my mouth, I silently read:
Dearest Winter,
&
nbsp; Happy Birthday, my sweetest daughter. This letter is to find you on your 25th Birthday, so if you’re reading it, that means it made it safely to you.
I want you to know that you will always be with me, and I will always be with you. Ring the bell and I’ll be near.
Stay the warrior I know you were born to be, strong and brave like I raised you because sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way we plan. If that happens, here’s the key to set them straight again.
I love you,
Mom
Shifting the paper from my lap, a tear just misses it. “My mom was amazing.”
“You got more than her looks.”
I feel strong, stronger than I’ve felt in years because of this man sitting next to me and my mom always being in my heart. Despite the bad that’s happened, I feel like the luckiest woman alive.
I pull the key off gently, not wanting the tape to rip the paper.
Bennett peeks at me. “You’re not wearing the necklace.”
“No, but I want to try the key as soon as we get home.”
“We can go whenever you’re ready.”
I read the letter one more time before folding it and tucking it back into the envelope. “Be right back.”
In my bedroom, bras, panties, and shoes are strewn across the bed. Makeup scattered on the vanity. Purses on the floor. I didn’t leave it like this, so someone has rifled through my belongings. I can’t see the fingerprints of the burglar, but I feel violated the same as if he touched me himself. The saddest part is I don’t know who to blame—my father, Braden, or Kurt. How did I ever accrue so many enemies?
“None of this stuff matters,” I remind myself. “It’s just stuff.”
“Find what you need?” I glance over my shoulder to find Bennett just inside the room and nod. He looks around, but his eyes are quick to return to me. “Let’s not stay long.” He’s kind enough not to amp up my fears.
“Yes, I agree.” When he returns to the living room, I move into the closet and bend down, shifting a box of socks out of the way. It’s a good hiding spot, and I can tell before I find what I’m looking for that they never found it. I pull a dark wood box not bigger than a shoebox out and smile. My mother’s jewelry box was given to me before she died. We used to pull every piece of jewelry out and wear it all at once.
Most of her jewelry was inherited, but my father did buy her a few pieces. I lift the lid and pull out the broach. He gave this to her on the day my brother was born. I always loved it. Diamonds and pearls. She never got a gift for my birth because of his disappointment but look who won in the end.
I return to the living room with the box in hand and sit down next to Bennett on the couch. I’ve come to recognize that look in his eyes, the one that worries about me, so I reassure him before he has a chance to ask. “I’m okay.”
He nods, accepting that answer at face value. When I stand, he does as well, picking the picture frame up from the table again, and asks me, “Got everything you want?”
Taking his hand, I lead him to the door. “I have everything I need.”
* * *
My hands are shaking, but not from fear.
“A key, huh?” Ally asks, resting her elbows on the kitchen island.
Bennett rubs my back but doesn’t say anything. He understands the significance of what this means to me.
I ready myself and then insert the key into the bottom of the locket and turn gently. The lock releases silently, but I can feel it give and the back pops open just enough for me to wedge the sides apart. Inside is the tiniest capsule I’ve ever seen.
“It was there all along. That’s what made it ring,” Hutton says.
“Metal against metal,” I say, touching it with the tip of my finger.
Ethan had an overseas call and excused himself, but Bennett, Ally, Hutton, and I stand around the kitchen island, staring at the little treasure.
Bennett leans down to get a closer look. “So the key was never lost. Your mother just waited until the right time to give it to you.”
“My twenty-fifth birthday,” I say, holding the capsule in the palm of my hand.
Hutton leans in and says, “Whatever is in there must be important to wait this long.”
Ally’s arm comes around me. “This was meant for you, a gift from your mother.”
Quietly to myself, I whisper the words of my mother, “Ring the bell and make a wish. You’ll receive what you need. Huh. Not what I want, but what I need. What do I need?” I’ve never taken the words to heart. Until now.
His scruff is thicker today, and his eyes deep in thought as he rolls the locket around in his hand. “Browning. I was sure the jeweler’s stamp on the back meant something.”
Ally rests her hip against the stone top counter. “The answers you need might be in there, Winter.” The attention turns to the princess who’s become a cherished friend and already like a sister to me.
“Why am I scared?”
She says, “We’re here for you, but I have to tell you that I’m dying to solve this mystery.” She fists her hands into balls and shivers excitedly. “Come on. Open it.”
I unscrew the little metal container and pull out a piece of paper. Flattening the rolled-up strip on the counter, we all lean in, and then I gasp. “Is that an address?”
“It is,” Bennett says, grinning. “Come on. Let’s go solve a mystery.”
39
Winter
Excitement fills the air as the four of us head for the door. I pull the purse strap over my head and anchor it on my hip. “You guys are cracking me up.”
Hot on my heels, Ally says, “This is fun. We’re like the Scooby Gang, solving mysteries and fighting crime together.”
Hutton looks at her quizzically. “You watched Scooby Doo growing up?”
“No. We didn’t get it in my country.” She shrugs. “But it comes on one of the cartoon channels here and I lost three hours to the gang the other day.”
“Fighting crime, um, yeah, let’s not encourage Winter.” Bennett holds the door open with a grin. “I’m hanging up her superhero cape. I’m quite fond of her in one piece.”
Elbowing him in the stomach playfully when Ally passes, she says, “So protective these days.”
“I have a lot to protect.” And there’s that wink that makes me smile.
“Such a flirt,” I add with a tug of his shirt.
While Hutton deals with the security to get us in the elevator, Bennett envelops me in his big arms. “Oui, oui, mademoiselle.”
“I dressed up as a French maid for you one time, and it’s forever going to haunt me.”
“I was referencing our time in Paris, not the other night.”
My cheeks flame and I giggle. “Ah. Most of Paris was good.” Ally laughs, and as we descend to the garage, Hutton holds her and kisses her on the head. These Everests sure know how to charm a girl and win her heart. I add, “Oops. Pretend you never heard that.”
“Too late,” Hutton groans. “It’s seared into my memory. Not what I want to know about my little brother.”
“Not so little,” Bennett banters.
“Let’s not go there,” he counters while we laugh.
We enter the garage to find the waiting SUV. With Kurt’s and my family’s situation not settled, we still take precautions. You know, like riding around in bulletproof vehicles. Normal stuff like that. I shake my head because nothing is normal about my life these days.
Hutton gets in first and then Ally. I wait until after her, the memories of being snatched through the door too vivid to wash away some days. Another issue I’m working through with my therapist. It’s only been a couple of sessions, but she says I’m making progress, so I lay my faith in the process and Bennett to help get me through the tough times. It’s incredible to have people I can rely on and confide in. I’ve not had that in a long time.
Driving through Manhattan, we already know where we’re headed. Bennett places a call, settling my anxious heart. I feel at home with t
hem and savor the sound of the banter and laughter that fills the car as it fills my soul right along with it. It’s only been a short time, but these are more than friends. They’re my family.
“Winter?”
“Yeah?” I turn to Bennett who’s standing on the sidewalk with a hand out.
“We’re here.”
“Oh.” I slide out. “I was lost in my thoughts.” While the others get out of the SUV, I look up at the New York Public Library. “Will they let us in?”
“We’re about to find out.”
The four of us head inside and wind our way to The Berg Collection Reading Room. I stand admiring the room with Ally when she whispers, “Singer would love the smell.”
“I do, too. Old books, paper, history. It’s all here. I wish I could bottle it.”
When Hutton and Bennett return, Hutton says, “They usually only allow access by appointment only.”
“Oh, no. Will they not let us look?”
Bennett steps up as a woman waves us over. “I made a call on the way over. I also made a large donation in your mother’s name.”
“You did?” A sweet ache heats the middle of my chest, a lump forming in my throat. I lean against his chest, my head down. His generosity never ceases to amaze me. “Thank you.”
Rubbing my back, he leans down. “It’s for a good cause.”
* * *
Two hours later, we’re still stumped. The librarian has been happy to help, but we’re out of ideas when she comes back to check on us. “We close in an hour. How are you doing?”
“Nothing makes sense,” I say, rubbing my temples. “Why would my mom send me here?”
She leans in and looks at the locket on the table between us. “This is very pretty.”
“Thank you.” The key dangles from the chain, but I slide it to the side to turn the locket over and set it next to the capsule and piece of paper. “My locket had this address hidden inside. So we thought there would be a clue to help us, but we’re still baffled”
