by Celia Loren
There's a long silence, and then I see him reach toward my shoulder out of the corner of my eye. I feel myself jump back. "Don't touch me!"
"Cora…you couldn't have known—"
"Oh, thanks, Brent," I spit at him, suddenly filled with rage. "You think that makes any fucking difference? She's dead. That's it. You think you can, what? Fix me with a few nice words and some fucking?"
"That's not what this is. I know you're upset—"
"Don’t be condescending to me!"
"I'm not, Cora. I love you."
"That's—no. No. You don't even know me," I gasp, and he grips my shoulders firmly, forcing me to look up at him.
"Yes, I do. I love you. And what you just told me doesn't change that." I shake my head, willing my tears to stay hidden as I bring my hands up to push his away.
"I can't…I can't. I need you to let go of me. I can't breathe," I mutter, squirming away from him and hurrying to the door.
"Cora," he breathes, sounding shocked.
"No, no, I'm sorry. I tried to tell you," I whisper as I open the door and hurry down the hallway and then turn up the stairs.
Thankfully, my tears don't really begin to flow until I shut my bedroom door behind me and sink down onto the plush mattress. He's so confused, to think he loves me, I think as I cry. All of the stress from the investigation, his sister's mental health, his family secrets coming to light…it's all too much for him. I know what I have to do.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tess was very understanding. In fact, she was surprised I had continued to work at the Redmond estate as long as I did, considering the ongoing murder investigation. Not that the police are really getting anywhere, though. The DNA they found on Jody Hall's body turned out to be from the man who pulled her out of the lake, so the investigation is at a standstill. The six suspects have been questioned and re-questioned, but nothing new has come to light.
I put in my two weeks notice last week. One more week to go. It was cowardly of me, but I left the paperwork on Mr. Redmond's desk, rather than have to face him directly. Tess promised me that she would make finding a new job for me a top priority, so hopefully I won't have any time in between when I end work here and start at a new place. Maybe it would have been wise to wait until I had another job lined up, but I feel like I'm living in a powder keg, though I'm not sure if it's the tension between Mr. Redmond and me, or the fact that everyone is holding their breath over the investigation.
I check my hair in the mirror one last time before heading out of my bedroom. The police cleared me to stay in Jody's old room again. It was creepy at first, but it's better than staying next door to Mr. Redmond.
He's reverted to the haughty brusqueness he displayed to me when I first started working here. I guess that's to be expected, and it's probably for the best. I've felt empty ever since the day he told me he loved me, and I think if he touched me I would break into a million tiny pieces.
I yawn as I make myself a strong cup of coffee. My insomnia and nightmares have returned with a vengeance, though thankfully I haven't woken anyone up with them again. The last thing I want is Aaron or Ms. Mueller running into my room to check on me.
I jump as I hear a pounding above me. I just have a chance to realize that it's the sound of footsteps running down the servants' hallway above me, when Aaron bursts into the kitchen. He runs full speed past me and down the hallway toward the front door. My mouth drops open and I hurry after him.
As I arrive at the open front door, I see him sprinting toward a man on the grounds. The man looks up and sees Aaron flying toward him, and tries to run back the other way. I spot a camera in the man's hands just before Aaron decks him with a tackle and grabs it from him. He appears to be ripping the equipment apart with his bare hands. I step out onto the portico, unsure if I should let anyone know what's going on.
The photographer stands up and yells something at Aaron that I can't make out. Aaron retorts, and the photographer swings at him wildly. Aaron neatly sidesteps the punch and nails him in the face, causing the photographer to fall backwards onto the plush grass. But Aaron doesn't stop. In a moment, he's on top of the photographer, continuing to hit him.
I run as fast as I can toward them. The last thing Aaron or anyone here needs is an assault charge on top of everything. I see blood on the photographer's face as I wrap my arms around Aaron's neck, trying to pull him off.
"Aaron! Aaron! Enough!" I yell in his ear. He doesn't listen, and I see his elbow coming toward my face as he cocks his arm for another punch. It hits me right in the mouth, and I fall backward. I stumble in the grass, and see Aaron turn around, horror on his face.
"Oh my god, Cora…I didn't mean to. Fuck, fuck," he murmurs. I suppose we've caused enough of a commotion, because I hear Ms. Mueller yelling in the house, and then Mr. Redmond is striding across the lawn, his expression darker than I've ever seen it. With one glance, he takes in the scene, then kneels next to me, ignoring Aaron and the photographer.
"Are you alright?" he asks me. I nod, gently touching the cut on my lip. It's bleeding, but I don't think it's very deep. "Will you go wait for me in my study?" he asks gently, and offers me his hand to help me up. I shiver as our palms touch and can't meet his eye as I turn toward the house.
"Get inside," I hear him tell Aaron sternly, and hear him following behind me. I glance back to see Mr. Redmond kneeling beside the photographer. I wonder what he's saying. Ms. Mueller wraps her arm around my shoulder protectively as Aaron reaches the front door.
"Cora, I'm so sorry. It was an accident," he whispers. I nod, seeing how pained he looks.
"I know. It's alright," I reply.
"Ice all around, I think," Ms. Mueller says, leading us both back to the kitchen. After she's made up a pack for Aaron for his torn up knuckles, and another for me for my lip, I head to Mr. Redmond's office. I'm only seated for a moment, the ice pack to my mouth, before he enters, closing the door behind him, and walks behind his desk. I study his face as he sits. He looks terrible.
"What did you say to the photographer?" I ask.
"I'm going to pay him off. Have him sign something, saying he won't talk about what happened. He was trespassing, so we each have something to hide. At least the rest of the buzzards had already cleared off. We're already going to be up to our ears in scandal." I frown. He used the future tense, as though he knows something else is going to happen. He stands and moves to the front of his desk, bending over to look at my face. "May I?"
I nod, and he reaches forward, gently taking my chin in one hand, and removing the ice pack from my face with his other. I look down as I feel his fingers on my skin. Heat and pain rush through me in equal measure at his touch. Just as it's about to become more than I can bear, he sits back.
"Well, I don't think you'll need stitches. Would you like to see a doctor, though?"
"No, I'm sure it's fine."
"Did you hear what that reporter said to Aaron?"
"Oh, he was a reporter? No, I was too far away when it started."
"That particular guy's been harassing us for weeks. Took a strong dislike to Aaron when he kicked him out of my building in the city, so he started digging up personal stuff about him. Anything he could uncover from his employment records."
"That's awful."
"Not that it excuses what Aaron did. He should know better. But I know he's…touchy about anyone maligning his military work."
"He always reminded me of my dad. Not so much anymore," I remark, thinking of the stealthy way he moved to take down the reporter. Mr. Redmond smiles faintly, and a silence falls in the room. With the immediate events covered, what happened between us surfaces again.
"How's Whitney?" I finally ask.
"Better. I think she's coming home for a couple days soon. But she's back in her classes."
"Good. And any word from the police?"
"Nothing. But…" he gets a pained, far-off look in his eyes, then shakes it off with a flick of his head. "Never mind."
Maybe before everything fell apart I would have asked what he meant, but I can't anymore. I stand awkwardly, coming too close to him in his position leaning on the front of the desk. He moves aside immediately, as though he can't stand being near to me.
"Well…I'd better get back to work," I murmur. He nods, and I head for the door.
"Do you have a new job lined up?" he asks, and I pause in the doorway. It's the first time he's brought up my quitting.
"Not yet, but my employment agency is working on it," I reply. I wait to see if he's going to say anything else, but with a slight nod, he turns to look out the window, and I close his office door behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I pause over an old photo of Mr. Redmond on the mantelpiece in the den. He's in his cap and gown, on his graduation day from Harvard. He holds his degree proudly in front of him. One more day. Tomorrow, I leave this house forever, probably never to see him again.
"Ms. Mueller!" I hear Whitney yell, and jerk my hand away from the silver frame as she runs into the room.
"What is it?" I ask worriedly as she grabs the TV remote and switches the set on.
"What's going on?" Ms. Mueller echoes as she hurries into the room, drying her hands on a dishcloth.
"My friend just texted me…" Whitney says, scrolling rapidly through the channels. "There!" she exclaims as she stops on a news channel.
"Oh my god," Ms. Mueller murmurs as Mark Scanlon appears on the screen.
He's in handcuffs, being escorted into a police car outside Redmond Capital Properties' building in downtown Boston. Over the footage, a male news anchor intones, "Earlier this afternoon, Mark Scanlon, general counsel for Redmond Capital Properties, has been arrested for embezzling money from the company. He has also been representing CEO Brent Redmond in the ongoing investigation into the murder of a maid at Redmond's Norwich estate. Now, however, detectives with the Norwich police department say that Scanlon himself is the lead suspect in that investigation."
"No…" Ms. Mueller says, shaking her head.
"It is quite the motive," I reply quietly.
"I don't understand," she replies.
"Jody could have overheard him talking on the phone or something, and then he killed her to keep her quiet about it," Whitney fills her in.
"But I doubt Jody would have even understood, you know? He could have just explained it away," she counters.
"I guess he figured he'd rather be safe than sorry," Whitney says, watching the TV replay the scene of Mark's arrest over and over.
"But he's already rich! Why would he do something like that to Mr. Redmond?" Ms. Mueller protests, sitting down in an armchair.
"As soon as some people get their hands on a little money, they've gotta have more of it," I say with a sad smile, thinking of what my dad always used to tell me. He'd be screaming at the TV right now in righteous anger.
"I better go tell my mom," Whitney says, and hurries out toward the guest house.
"I can't believe that's it," Ms. Mueller sighs.
"Well, he hasn't been charged for the murder yet, but I'm sure that's coming. I bet that was why Mark wanted Mr. Redmond to spend less time at the office—so that he wouldn't uncover what he'd been doing. And then Mr. Redmond found out anyway."
"There was no point in killing Jody," Ms. Mueller says, shaking her head.
"I think that was actually what tipped Mr. Redmond off that there was something fishy going on. Oh, poor Kristin," I realize.
"I better keep going on dinner," Ms. Mueller says. "I suppose I should be glad that they figured it all out, but what a blow for Mr. Redmond. His best friend…" She walks back toward the kitchen, shaking her head.
I switch off the TV and decide I need to take a break. I follow her back into the kitchen, tucking my rag in my uniform pocket, and head up to my bedroom. I close the door behind me, looking over my packed suitcase on the floor and neatly made bed. One more night. I hear a knock on the door behind me and open it. Whitney pokes her head in.
"My mom doesn't know whether to celebrate or freak out," she says, walking past me and sitting on the bed.
"It's a terrible betrayal for all of you, but at least you can relax now. It was so horrible thinking the murderer was still out there."
"You're not really leaving are you?" she asks, pushing one of my suitcases with her foot.
"'Fraid so," I reply, sitting down in my desk chair.
"You and Brent have a fight or something?"
"What?" I ask innocently, though I'm thrown.
"Oh, come on. I've known for a while. Don’t worry," she continues as she sees my alarmed expression. "I don't think the rest of them have any idea. So, what…an argument?"
"No, not an argument, really," I demur.
"What, then?" she asks bluntly, in typical Whitney fashion.
"It's…it's complicated."
"Well, you look really tired. You sure you feel good about your decision?" she asks pointedly.
"You really don't let up!" I exclaim.
"I know. It's my best and worst quality," she says with a smile. "I've never seen him so happy and relaxed as when you were here. So you should stay," she says.
"That makes it sound simpler than it is. I'm not interested in having a relationship right now." To my chagrin, Whitney bursts out laughing.
"Uh, I've seen the way you look at him, so that's not really going to fly with me."
"Whitney, it's really none of your business!" I protest, wanting to feel more annoyed with her than I do, but my fondness for her holds me back.
"Yes! I like having you here, too! I feel like you complete us. You just fit here, that's all."
"I'm not good for him," I finally murmur.
She settles down a bit at that statement, frowning at me. "What do you mean?"
I shake my head. "You just don't really know me. I'm not a good person."
She shrugs. "You helped me. I was sliding downward…thinking about some dark things again..." she trails off. "And you brought me back. I heard you pulled Aaron out of a fight the other day. Even my mom likes you. And Brent never seemed happier. I know what your actions tell me, and if there's such a thing as good people and bad people, I think you're one of the good ones."
To my embarrassment, I feel myself choking up, and a tear slips down my cheek. "Whitney…"
"You can't leave," she says finally and gets up to walk to the door. "And I bet you won't go through with it. You're too in loooovvve," she sing-songs jokingly. With a laugh she heads out down the corridor, leaving me speechless.
I'm not in love! I don't love Brent—that's the whole point. But why would I care so much about what he thinks about me if I don't love him? The thought gives me pause. No, no. It's just Whitney being her unusual self. Then again, maybe I'm not running from his love for me…maybe I'm running away from my love for him. He'll have to break up with me when he really sees me for who I am, and it's better to leave now, before it goes any further.
On the other hand, I've already told him my big, bad secret, and he seemed like he was sticking around.
Maybe he has seen the real me, and he's already chosen to stay.
I stand up, looking around my room as though I'm seeing it for the first time. I feel like a fog just lifted out of my brain. What am I thinking? He loves me. And I think I love him. Brent Redmond loves me!
Now what the hell do I do about it?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I look around the dining table as I bring out the dessert course. Mr. Redmond and his mother both seem tired, but calmer than they've been recently, while Whitney is telling them about a class project. I'm sure it's a relief that it's over, even though Mark's betrayal was massive. I try to catch Mr. Redmond's eye as I set down his mother's plate, but he's not looking at me.
Now that I've realized how I feel about him, I want to tell him right away. I want all this pain and worry to be done with. As soon as dinner is over, I'll go visit him in his study. Where it all started, really. I'l
l tell him how I feel about him. I shiver, picturing how his arms will wrap around me…
"How are you, Cora?" Aaron asks me as I walk back into the kitchen. He's been treating me like a delicate flower ever since he accidentally elbowed me in the face.
"Good," I reply with a smile, wanting him to feel at ease around me. "Was it crazy at the office today?"
"A mad house," he says, shaking his head.
"Cora, with everything that's happened today, I forgot to do something special for your last night!" Ms. Mueller exclaims from the table where she's eating her dinner.
"Oh, it's fine, really. I'm happy to not make a big deal about it," I murmur. Plus, now I don't want to leave, anyway.
"Well, it still would have been nice to do something," Ms. Mueller says as I sit down next to her and Aaron takes the seat beside me. We hear the chairs in the living room scoot back as the family finishes their dinner, and Mrs. Redmond walks into the kitchen a moment later. She stops and smiles at us as she reaches the island.
"At least it's over," she says sadly. "Cora, I hope you'll stop by and see me before you leave tomorrow," she adds.
"Yes, Mrs. Redmond, I will," I promise her, though I'm hoping to put off my move into a motel like I'd been planning. She nods and leaves through the back door, and I stand and head back into the dining room to clear the table.
Whitney and Mr. Redmond have already gone, and I make quick work of cleaning up the dishes. Aaron and Ms. Mueller are just finishing up their dinner as I close the dishwasher and head back in to wipe down the table. I lean back, admiring the sparkling wood, and take a deep breath.
It's time. I feel a shot of nerves as I head down the hallway, and smooth my hand over my hair, checking for flyaways.. What if he's too hurt to hear what I have to say? I glance forward into the foyer and jump as I see Kristine Harrington standing under the chandelier.
"Kristine…" I murmur as I walk toward her. She looks pale, her face damp with tears.
