by K. M. Scott
My mother sat alone at the dining room table with three empty place settings. I had no idea where my father and Taylor were instead of sitting with her for our traditional Sunday afternoon dinner, but I'd just rolled out of bed a half hour before and wanted nothing more than something to bring me back to life after a night of partying till dawn. One thing was for sure. Sunday dinner around the family dining table wasn't it.
She looked up at me as I entered the room, her big brown eyes telegraphing she wanted to talk to me. I knew what she wanted to say. It was always the same.
"Tristan, come sit with me. I want to talk."
"I'm just grabbing a roll and heading out, Mom. Maybe when I get back."
"Tristan Ryder Stone, I want to speak to you."
Anytime my mother used my middle name and said anything in that choppy tone, I knew there was no escaping whatever she wanted. Sighing, I hung my head and pulled out a chair at one of the empty places.
"I'm concerned about you, sweetheart. You're twenty-four now. I realize you're not like your brother, but you can't stay a boy forever."
If she knew what I did with my nights, she wouldn't call me a boy. With a charming smile, I said, "Okay, Mom."
"Tristan, it's time you grew up. Again, I'm not saying you have to be just like Taylor, but your father and I are concerned that you don't seem to have any direction, other than toward parties and girls. I want to see you settled and happy."
"My father's concerned?"
I knew by the look that crossed her face that it was only she who was worried about me and my nightly behavior. I wasn't even sure my father knew I existed most of the time, even though we lived in the same house.
My mother reached out to touch my hand. I looked down at her long manicured nails that screamed opulence and then up at her face to see those big brown eyes once again fixed on me.
Two could play at that game.
"I'll settle down when I meet the perfect woman. You wouldn't want me to settle for anything less, would you?"
Now it was her turn to sigh. My usual answer never satisfied her. "Tristan, I want to believe that you mean that and you aren't just playing on my emotions."
"Who, me? Your favorite son? I wouldn't do that," I said, oozing the charm that never failed to work on her.
I rose from the table and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Don't wait up. I might spend the night in the city."
She said nothing but simply smiled at me as I turned to leave. I felt her stare on my back as I walked out, but I didn't turn around. There was no point. We both knew that.
I watched as Nina snored lightly on my chest and stroked her soft hair. For whatever it was worth, I'd finally figured out that my mother was right. I just hoped she could see that at least she'd been wrong about me finding someone to love.
Chapter Fourteen
Tristan
I chose a tie and closed my bedroom closet door. "Jensen, I want you at my office at quarter after nine exactly," I instructed him as I fixed my tie. "Michelle will have a package for you. I want you to bring it back here and give it to Rogers. He'll know what to do with it."
"Yes, Mr. Stone."
"Tell Rogers to come here. I need to talk to him."
As Jensen left, I dialed Daryl's number, hoping to catch him before he took off for Pennsylvania. I'd thought about that storage unit all night and didn't want him rummaging around in it, an unfeeling stranger rifling through Nina's mother's things.
"Tristan? How are you this morning?"
"Plans have changed. I want you to keep an eye on Cal instead of heading out to Plymouth Meeting. Text me address of the storage facility."
"You sure you want to do that? You usually have me do the dirty work."
At that moment, Rogers appeared in my bedroom doorway. "Daryl, you stay in the city. And call me if you see anything I might want to know about."
"You got it. Enjoy your day trip."
I put away my phone and turned my attention to Rogers. "Jensen will have a package for Nina. Make sure she gets it as soon as she gets up. I want you to give her this note also."
"Will you be going out of town, Tristan?"
Looking up from my letter, I shot Rogers a glare. "Taking to eavesdropping now?"
"Not in the least. I just happened to hear part of your conversation, sir."
I wasn't in the mood for his attitude this morning, so I ignored his use of sir again and read over my letter to Nina.
Dear Nina,
You looked so cute lying there all curled up in bed that I didn't have the heart to wake you up, but I had to leave on an emergency business trip. I hope you like your new phone. Text me when you get this letter, and I'll call you this afternoon.
Think about me. I'll be thinking about you. Miss you already.
Love,
Tristan
Folding the note in half, I slipped it into an envelope and handed it to Rogers. "Make sure she gets this."
"Are there any other instructions?"
I put on my suit coat and adjusted my tie in the mirror. "I don't know if I'll be home in time for dinner, so make sure Nina gets whatever she wants. I expect to hear that she was happy. Are we clear?"
Rogers' expression showed his hurt at my comment. "I would never do anything to foster Nina's unhappiness, Tristan."
I didn't entirely believe that, but I wasn't going to stand there and debate the issue with him. "Just make sure, Rogers. I'll call you to let you know if I'll be home for dinner."
As I walked past him to leave, he asked, "Is she allowed to leave the grounds?"
Sighing in frustration, I stopped and turned toward him to see that same hurt expression still on his face. "She's not a prisoner here, Rogers. I've had enough of this. I'm doing my best to make things right. Just give me a break."
I didn't give him a chance to respond. I didn't care what he thought. I didn't care what anyone thought but Nina. She was the only one I owed any explanation to.
Daryl had texted me the address of the storage place right before I left, and less than two hours later I pulled up in front of U-Store on Chemical Road in Plymouth Meeting. The clerk behind the counter was barely out of his teens and still working through an acne phase, so he was easy to get by. He also didn't seem to have any knowledge of the law whatsoever, so all I had to do was tell him I was Joseph Edwards' son and I'd lost my key to my mother's unit and he was happy to oblige.
We walked past a dozen green garage doors until we reached the last one in Row 8. The clerk unlocked the door and turned to me with a smile. "If you need anything else, Mr. Edwards, just let me know."
I looked in and saw the 10 x 10 unit wasn't packed to the ceiling, thankfully. Stacks of boxes four high lined the three walls, but it was organized so someone could walk easily through the middle around a few chests and belongings that weren't in boxes.
Now that I was standing in the middle of Nina's mother's things, I suddenly realized I didn't even know her name. All I knew was that she was the woman who'd given birth to the one person I loved in the world and she'd died when Nina was young. Her life was now only memories and her things stored in a dark storage unit.
A feeling of guilt came over me as I looked at her entire life around me. I was an intruder, a stranger about to search her things for something that had never had anything to do with her. It was like I was ransacking a grave for my own benefit.
I had to remind myself that I wasn't there just for me. If I didn't find the evidence of my father's actions that Karl and his friends were sure Joseph Edwards had hidden somewhere, they'd never leave Nina and me alone.
The first box I chose solved the mystery of what Nina's mother's name was. Written on the box were the words Diana's Clothes. That one had nothing but clothes in it, so I moved to a second box filled with pictures. I stood there as the photographs I looked at told the story of her life. Her in a 1960s bikini at the beach. When she was pregnant with Nina's sister and sitting at a picnic table on a beautiful sunny day. Diana at
an art show standing next to a sculpture with a blue ribbon on it. Nina's parents kissing under the mistletoe at a Christmas party.
I stared for a long time at the picture of Joseph and Diana Edwards, wondering how they'd met and if they were happy. They looked like two people in love. Her hair was long, much longer than Nina's, and darker brown. She was beautiful like her daughter, and Joseph Edwards was a good looking man. A good six inches taller than his wife, he had dirty blond hair. I noticed these things randomly as my eyes remained riveted to that picture.
My phone vibrated in my coat, and I pulled it out to see a text from Nina. I love my new phone! I'll finally be able to call out here. Wish you were here to thank. :) Love you. Come back soon.
Her text made me smile, but as I looked around at where I was, I wondered if she'd still love me if she knew what I was doing. I couldn't think about that, though. If this was what I had to do to keep her safe so we could have a life together like those two people in the picture had, then I'd do it.
I texted back Miss you. Wish I was there with you right now. I'll try to get back tonight. I love you and put my phone away to get back to work, wanting more than ever to get back to her.
Within two hours, I'd rummaged through the three walls of boxes and found nothing that appeared to be related to Joseph Edwards' work or his investigation into anything concerning my father or Stone Worldwide. Turning to the middle of the storage unit, I began to look through more boxes, but these were filled with art materials like paintbrushes and sculptor's tools, along with paints, clays, and stone. Diana Edwards had been an artist like her daughter, but I suspected she wasn't a painter but a sculptor. Stainless steel tools and finished clay and stone sculptures of animals, mythological creatures, and people filled a chest that sat next to an artist's easel.
I wondered if Nina knew her mother had been an artist. That she was very much her mother's daughter. Hopefully, someday I'd get to tell her what I knew without sounding like some crazy stalker guy.
Even though I was sure I wasn't going to find anything I was looking for amongst everything in the sculpture boxes and chest, I inspected each tool and piece of sculpture the best I could without harming Diana Edwards' art. Finally, after I'd looked at every item, I saw at the bottom of the chest sat a wooden box with the initials DE carved into the top. Kneeling on the cold ground, I opened the box and found a set of stone carving chisels. Just as with the other tools, they had no identifying marks or symbols on them, other than the name of the company that made them.
I'd looked through every inch of that storage unit and found nothing. Disappointed, I sat down on the ground next to the chest and hung my head. I'd hoped that I'd be able to find some shred of evidence to give to Karl so Nina would finally be safe, but there'd been nothing. I'd failed.
Diana Edwards' chisel set box was still in my hands, and I traced the outline of her initials as I sat there feeling lost as to what I was supposed to do next. Maybe Daryl had another lead. Maybe there really was nothing to show what Nina's father had found out. I sighed from the weight of this entire thing with Karl and his insistence that there was evidence out there that could do them all in. What had begun as disgust at my father's actions had snowballed into a problem that I thought of day and night and still hadn't figured out how to solve.
As I slowly traced her initials over and over, my finger moved the lid of the box to reveal an inset that could be removed. Tipping the box over, I tapped the lid and the center came out, leaving a small compartment open where a key and a slip of paper sat. The key had no name or clue as to what it opened, but the paper had written on it one word: Fidelity.
Quickly, I typed into my phone the words fidelity and Plymouth Meeting, getting two results that might be useful. There was a First Fidelity Bank and a Fidelity Securities in that very town. Looking down at the key, I saw it had no grooves like an ordinary house key or basic lock key. It was a safe deposit box key.
Had Joseph Edwards left a key for his daughters to find something important in a safe deposit box at a nearby bank in the event of his death? I could only hope that was the answer, but since Nina and her sister were his only children, there was no way I was going to convince a bank to allow me access to the box, even if I had the key. A young kid working part time at a storage unit facility was one thing, but a bank manager was going to be harder to fool.
I stuffed the key and the paper into my pocket and called Daryl. If I could find out more information about Kim's husband, I might be able to get the bank to let me see what was in that box.
"Hey, Tristan, how was your trip to Pennsylvania?"
"Daryl, I need the name of Joseph Edwards' son-in-law. He's married to Nina's sister Kim."
"Hang on. I think I have that somewhere. Give me a minute."
As I waited for Daryl to flip through the notebook he carried with him at all times, I walked out into the sunlight, shocking my eyes after all that time in that small room full of the remnants of Diana Edwards' life. Pulling the door down, I turned to walk toward my car and prepared to drive to the closest of the two banks.
"Sorry, I knew I had it written down, but I couldn't find it. His name is Jeff Hopkins."
"Okay, thanks Daryl."
"What's up, Tristan? What are you doing?"
"I'm going to pretend to be Jeff Hopkins. I found a safe deposit key I think might help give me the answers I'm looking for."
"Whoa, before you go off and do whatever the hell you're planning to do, maybe you should know something else about him other than his wife's name. They have two kids—two girls—named Emily and Sarah. You know the guy's a lawyer, right? So if you're planning to say you're him, you need to keep this stuff in mind."
"Right. Kim's the wife, Emily and Sarah are the daughters, and he's a lawyer. How old are the kids?"
Daryl was silent for a moment. "Six and eight, I think."
"You think?" I asked as I got into the car.
"Sorry. I didn't spend a lot of time on anyone but Edwards' daughters."
"Okay, Daryl. I have a hunch I found something here. I'll let you know."
"You sure you want to do this, Tristan? I can be out there in no time and handle things. That's what you pay me for."
"No, I'm here already and I can do it. How hard can it be to pull off being a lawyer?"
Daryl laughed at my attempt at humor. "You might have to convince them not because you don't look like you could be a lawyer but because you're wearing a suit no small town lawyer could afford."
"Point taken. I'll keep it mind, just in case."
"Just remember this. People are more willing to do things for people who sweet talk them. Use some of that charm I know you have and hope you get a woman at the bank to help you. Also, pray you aren't going to a bank where they'd actually know this Jeff guy. If they do, you're probably shit out of luck."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I said sarcastically.
"All you have to remember is charm. Let me know if you need help."
I ended the call and started the car, programming the GPS to give me directions to both locations. Fidelity Securities was closest, so I put the car in gear and drove there first. I was lucky enough to have a female employee in her first month on the job wait on me, but when she saw the key she knew it wasn't from her institution. That left First Fidelity.
I could only hope I'd be lucky enough to run into another young woman like the first one.
First Fidelity Bank was just what I'd hoped it wouldn't be. A small building on the corner of Main Street and Park Avenue, it looked like a bank I had for my miniature train set when I was a boy. I parked across the street and prayed to God there would be more than two tellers and a branch manager who knew everyone in town by their first names and what teachers they'd had in high school.
Two steps into the building and I knew I was going to have to work for this one. Three tellers stood at their stations, each one in their fifties or older. One had teased up hair the color of pewter and smiled when she saw me,
so she was my go-to girl. Hopefully, the smile meant she was at least friendly.
In my best schoolboy voice, I said, "Hi, I need to get into a safe deposit box." I looked down next to her stack of envelopes and saw her name. Roberta. As my mother always said, "There's nothing as magical as hearing one's name," so I flashed her a smile and added, "Roberta, I'd so appreciate it if you could help me. It would mean a lot to me."
She looked up at me with faded blue eyes and smiled a grandmotherly smile. "Oh, that's easy. All I need is your name and the key."
I let out a sigh of relief and then she added, "And your identification, of course."
Fuck.
Holding the key up for her to see, I said, "My name is Jeff Hopkins and here's my key, but there's a problem. I don't have my ID. I had my wallet stolen the other day when I had to take my daughter to the specialist in Philadelphia, and that's why I need to get into the safe deposit box. That's where my birth certificate is, and I can't get my ID again without it."
"Oh, well, we can't let you into the box without some form of ID, Mr. Hopkins. You don't have any form of identification?"
I was going to have to lay it on thick if this was going to work. Leaning forward, I settled my gaze on Roberta's pale blue eyes and stared deeply into them as I softened my voice. "I can certainly understand, Roberta, but that man who stole my wallet has made that impossible. Is there no way we can get around this? Without that birth certificate, I can't get my driver's license. I've already gotten one ticket after getting pulled over for driving without a license and I can't afford another one, but I need to drive my little girl to the doctors."
This kind of wheedling had never been my strong suit, and I was sure by the look on her face that she wasn't convinced as she sat there staring silently at me. Breaking the connection, I looked down at a picture on her desk of a little blond girl I guessed was her granddaughter and then back up at Roberta with the best pleading look I had. Just when I was sure our silent standoff would end in my defeat, her shoulders sagged and she said with a sigh, "Oh, one time can't hurt."
