by Levy, Marc
“Wanted us to see it so we would have a reason to trust each other? I’d say that’s a bit of a stretch, but fine. Why would the poison-pen want us to trust each other?”
“Poison-pen. That’s good. I don’t know. To save time, I guess?”
“The fact that you can understand such twisted reasoning doesn’t exactly cry innocence, you know.”
“Granted, but maybe it does cry . . . intelligence?” he asked.
“Sure, with a nice dash of modesty on top.”
“Someone is messing with us. Why, I have no idea. But we have a way better chance of unmasking him if we join forces.”
“Well, don’t you think the poison-pen would see that coming?”
“Yes, I do. But it’s a risk he chose to take.”
“Why he and not she?” Even though I’d been assuming it was a man as well, I didn’t want him to know that.
“Good point.”
“Whatever happened to trusting each other? I’m the one who brought it up in the first place.”
“Which definitely cries sincerity, or at least proves you’re smart.”
“Smarter than you, you mean?”
Once again, our eyes locked, and we studied each other for what felt like ages. And once again, we were saved by the bell as the waitress arrived to take our orders. George-Harrison asked for a lobster roll, never taking his eyes off mine. I was too engrossed in the stare down to think up something original to order, so I ordered the same.
22
MAY
October 1980, Baltimore
May had tried three times to get hold of Edward, to no avail.
Their second date had been just as magical as the first. Even though she still had feelings for Sally-Anne, May was falling for Edward. And judging by his tender care and thoughtfulness, he seemed to feel the same way. May was showing Edward a whole new world, one that was beginning to grow on him. It was like Pygmalion in reverse—the girl who came from nothing was the teacher; the privileged man, the student.
And so what if Sally-Anne was upset? She had been in a blind fury at everyone for days now, so May’s actions didn’t seem to make a whole lot of difference. At the editorial meeting, Sally-Anne had rebuffed the entire team, shutting down any ideas they pitched and picking fights at every turn. It had come as a relief when she’d ended the meeting early.
The source of all that rage was a mystery. If Sally-Anne enjoyed Keith so much, she should have been happy to have him all to herself. May could see the whole situation pretty clearly. Sally-Anne couldn’t bear May being involved with Edward, and seeing him shower her with attention while he ignored his own sister disgusted her. But May saw no reason to feel guilty about any of it. She hadn’t tried to seduce Edward; he was the one tripping over himself to win her over. Sally-Anne had it all wrong that Edward would chew May up and spit her out once he’d gotten what he wanted. After that passionate kiss on their first date, Edward had walked May to her door and said good night. Two days later, he had treated her to an unforgettable meal at an expensive restaurant. As they sat down, May had peered in wonder at the rows of cutlery, and Edward had softly clued her in: “Work your way from the outside in, one at a time.”
The day after that, they went shopping and bought each other gifts. Edward draped a ravishing scarf around her shoulders, while May bought him a striking leather wallet. He slipped the wallet into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and patted his heart.
“I’ll keep it right here.”
Edward had even driven May out to Kent Island for the weekend. He had treated her to a lush suite in a sprawling manor atop a dune facing the sea. They spent most of that weekend making love. She had never been spoiled so thoroughly. May’s only regret was not being able to share her newfound joy with her closest friend. Despite Sally-Anne’s juvenile and selfish behavior, May still had sympathy for her and felt she understood. Nonetheless, there was no way Sally-Anne’s pigheaded, jealous attitude could last. There was nothing shallow or selfish about this budding love story. May resolved to find a way to get the siblings to patch things up. A brother and a sister were meant to get along. She was convinced the two of them could make it work.
May wanted to build trust with Edward, so she decided to take the first step herself during that weekend on Kent Island. She told him about the newspaper as they walked arm in arm along the beach.
“It may still be only a pipe dream for now,” she lied. “But the two of us are going nowhere at the Sun. Our managers are chauvinists who think the only thing women are good for is serving coffee, and that we should all just stick to research.”
Edward seemed appalled by that notion, and asked May more about the dream project. What type of editorial point of view did they envision? She walked Edward through the broad strokes and he was nothing but encouraging, praising her fearlessness and hard work in the quest for truth. But nonetheless, Edward advised her to be cautious. Exposing corruption, abuse of power, and partisan politics came at great risk. If she didn’t tread lightly, sooner or later she would end up drawing the wrath of the powerful.
“I grew up with those people, and I know just what they’re capable of,” he warned her.
Edward’s words reminded May that with all the important people he knew, he might be a good connection for the paper, at least eventually. Despite all his admirable qualities, she could tell he worried too much about appearances, a weakness she’d found in so many men. May knew she had to be patient and wait for the right moment, and she was sure Edward would certainly rise to the task and help them.
“I just hope you’re not getting used by my sister. With the chip she has on her shoulder, it’s no surprise she would launch something like this.”
“Just what happened between you two?” asked May.
“Sally-Anne blames me for not taking her side. She’s been waging an endless war against our parents since we were teenagers. I find her hostility toward them as unfair as it is unbearable. I know Mother isn’t always easy. She may seem harsh, but after going through what she did when she was young . . . I know it makes me sound stuffy, but I actually admire my parents. And not only because they’ve been so successful. They both suffered terrible hardship. My mother certainly didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in her mouth. When she came to America, she was penniless, her parents dead and buried. I never met my maternal grandparents; they were Jews in hiding, murdered by the Nazis before I was born. Mother made it out alive thanks to her sheer courage and my father’s heroism. That’s why I just can’t accept the way Sally judges them so harshly. I’ve always tried to smooth things out between them. I tried to protect my sister, from herself most of all . . . all her rage and excess . . . nothing ever stopped her from doing just as she pleased. In the end, I gave up.”
“Well, she certainly still loves you very deeply,” May lied.
“Oh, I highly doubt that.”
“When she talks about you, you can hear in her voice how much she admires you.”
“Darling, that’s very thoughtful to say, but I don’t believe it for one second. Sally-Anne thinks only of herself. She has such hatred for her own family . . . There’s nothing but bitterness in her heart.”
“If you think that, you don’t know her at all. Not really. You think I’m thoughtful? Sally-Anne’s the queen of thoughtful! She spends all her time thinking about other people. Sure, she was born into money. She could have just put her feet up and enjoyed the easy life, but she didn’t. She chose not to. Yeah, she’s rebellious, but always for noble causes, all against the injustice of the world.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with her, the way you talk.”
“Please, Edward, don’t be silly.”
“Very well, then,” he sighed. “Message received. Don’t speak ill of my sister, or else run the risk of getting my head bit off.”
May took Edward by the arm and led him back to the manor.
“Let’s head back inside,” she said. “I’m thirst
y, and I think we should get drunk. I can’t stand Sundays. I wish this weekend would never end.”
“Not to worry, dear. It’s far from the last.”
“Of course. As long as we take it slow. I got the message loud and clear, what you said about . . . what was her name again? Zimmer, was that it? I don’t know anything about her, but I know I don’t want us to end the same way. Do you still have feelings for her?”
“Ha! Oh, you women and the traps you set for us. If I say no, I’m a swine. If I say yes, I’m king of the swine. I think you’ve got the right idea: enjoy what life has given us, without rushing to ask questions, especially about past romantic entanglements. Which reminds me: you haven’t told me a thing about yours.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to tell.”
The couple entered the manor and settled into the smoking room for a nice cozy drink, the fire crackling in the fireplace. May ordered a glass of champagne, while Edward opted for bourbon.
Around sunset, they returned to the room and packed their bags. May stopped halfway through and took a long look around the room. She had slept so soundly in that massive four-poster bed, gazing up at the silk canopy the next morning with Edward sleeping softly beside her. She’d opened the thick window curtains, and the sunlight streamed in over a gorgeous room-service breakfast. May savored the divine sensation of walking barefoot on the Persian rug. She never wanted to leave.
“Can’t we stay until tomorrow?” she asked Edward as he folded his things. “I just can’t imagine walking back into that loft tonight.”
“Sorry to say, I have to work early tomorrow, darling. But since we’ll get in late in any event, why not spend the night at my place?”
“Under the same roof as your parents? In their home?”
“It’s more of an estate, really. I have my own quarters, May. Believe me, we can stay there and not cross paths with them at all.”
“Even tomorrow morning?”
“We can leave through the service door—there’s nothing to worry about, honestly.”
They made incredible time in Edward’s Aston Martin on the way back. The car smelled of leather, and the roar of the engine was exciting.
“Would you promise me something?” May said.
“I have to know what first, my dear. I’m a man of my word, and I don’t take promises lightly.”
“I want you to make up with her.”
“With Sally-Anne? It’s true there’s some tension there, but there’s nothing specific to reconcile.”
“No. I mean all of you, the whole Stanfield family. Sally-Anne would never take the first step, and neither would your mother. It has to be you. Help them make peace.”
Edward slowed the car and looked at May, a broad smile on his face.
“I can’t promise it will work . . . but I can promise you now that I will try. I will try my very best.”
May leaned in and kissed Edward, then pulled away, telling him to keep his eyes on the road. She rolled down the window and breathed in deeply. With her hair blowing in the wind, May closed her eyes and felt something close to happiness.
23
ELEANOR-RIGBY
October 2016, Baltimore
We parted ways out on the landing, both of us waving good night from the doorways to our own rooms. Lying on top of my bed, all I had to do was close my eyes and I could picture Maggie asking me:
All right, genius. Now what?
And since I was clueless as to the answer, I decided to call her. Dial 9, then 011, just like the lady at the front desk said—as if I had never been abroad before!
My sister picked up straightaway. “Jesus! You have any idea what time it is here?” Maggie grumbled, her voice hoarse and scratchy.
“I’m sorry if I woke you both up, but it just couldn’t wait.”
“It’s just me; Fred stayed in Primrose Hill,” she replied, with a long, drawn-out yawn. “It was crazy busy last night, and he closed too late to make his way over here.”
“Good for him, if his restaurant can drum up that kind of business.”
“Oh yeah, la-di-da. When my boyfriend’s on cloud nine because of a full house at the pub, I get to sleep alone. But when things go south and he’s down in the dumps, I get him all to myself. Who could possibly ask for anything more? Anyhow, I’m guessing you didn’t ring me at five in the morning to hear me gripe about Fred.”
There was no arguing with that logic. Despite having been woken up ridiculously early, Maggie listened intently to the latest in the family saga: the letter Michel slipped in my pocket, the picture on the wall at Sailor’s Hideaway, the woman with whom Mum had a relationship thirty-six years ago, and most of all, the encounter with George-Harrison and all that followed. The story was so riveting, Maggie didn’t interrupt, not even once.
“What does he look like, this carpenter?”
“Don’t tell me that’s the first question that comes to mind.”
“Even if it was, it shouldn’t stop you from answering it.”
I laid out a vague description of the man.
“So . . . you’re saying he’s hot. And George-Harrison is his real name?”
“Well, I didn’t make him show me his driving license or anything, but that was the name on the letter. I took him at his word.”
“So I see. Considering our mothers were so close, you really think the names are a coincidence?”
“The two of us are pretty much the same age. There could be something there, maybe.”
“I’d call it more than a maybe. She did call Mum ‘my love’ in that letter, in case you missed it. Although that could be because she had already started losing her marbles. You know, I can’t picture Mum roaring down the road on a motorcycle, not for the life of me. The same lady who put on her seat belt religiously every time she got into the Austin? Can you see her as a biker chick?”
“Honestly, that’s the last thing on my mind right now. I’m having more trouble picturing her as a thief! And I’d like to know more about what they stole, what this whole ‘tragedy’ was all about . . .”
“Well, it does seem to give the anonymous letter some credence.”
“Yeah, some parts of it are starting to make some sense. The shadowy parts of Mum’s past, her relationship with George-Harrison’s mother, the mysterious fortune she once had, but didn’t inherit, and, of course, the Independent.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the newspaper Mum launched with her friend May—George-Harrison’s mother. Dad can fill you in on some of the details.”
“Are you sure this is our mother we’re talking about here?”
“I had the same exact reaction when I heard.”
“And this ‘precious treasure’ thing. Did this George-Harrison person have any info on that?”
“No. That was a total surprise to him. He said the letter from his mother was the first time he had ever heard of it. Apparently, there are other letters out there as well. She and Mum went back and forth for years and years.”
“And what if he’s been playing you from the start? I mean, the sequence of events that brought you two together contains a hell of a lot of coincidences. What if he’s your poison-pen?”
“Why go to such trouble?”
“To bring together all the puzzle pieces! Years of correspondence, you said. Let’s say he already has all of Mum’s letters and wants to get his hands on his mother’s, too. The poison-pen encouraged us to find proof of his claims, didn’t he? There you have it!”
“I don’t buy it. If you’d seen how dumbstruck he looked at the sight of that photo in Sailor’s Hideaway . . . not to mention, he received an anonymous letter of his own.”
“Which he could have absolutely written himself. And why was he so shocked at the picture if he knew about all the letter writing?”
“He didn’t know about that; I learned about it from Michel. And you have to make sure not to tell him any of this. I promised I would keep it a secret. I’ve been tryin
g to get in touch with him—I’ve called him at least ten times since I got here. I want him to send me the rest of those letters.”
“Jesus. Why are there so many bloody secrets in this family, and why am I always the last to know? Dad tells you about Mum’s newspaper, Michel tells you about these letters, and no one tells me anything. Do I have the plague or something?”
“Dad didn’t mean to tell me a thing. We were out for ice cream and he just sort of ended up with his foot in his mouth.”
“Ice cream? Unbelievable,” my sister sulked. “If you say it was Ben & Jerry’s, I am hanging up, I swear.”
“As for Michel, I went to see him the night before I left. I don’t even know why he slipped the letter into my jacket pocket.”
“Great. You run over to say goodbye to Michel in person, and you say goodbye to me through Dad . . . Isn’t that sweet! I’m surprised you even bothered calling me for help.”
“Come on. You’ve already helped a ton by telling me to keep my guard up with George-Harrison.”
“Damn right you should! If our mothers really do have some buried treasure out there, you’d better find it before that clown does. Especially considering that my bank won’t budge on the overdraft thing.”
“If you want to make sure you have money in the bank, you could just try getting a job.”
“I can’t do everything! I’m going back to college.”
“At thirty-five?”
“Excuse me? Thirty-four! Anyway. Are you going to see him again, or what?”
“Tomorrow morning, for breakfast.”
“Oh, no . . .” she groaned. “Elby, don’t you dare fall in love with this guy!”
“Hang on. First off, he’s not my type. Second, I don’t trust him one bit. Not yet.”
“First off, I don’t believe you. Second, you trust everyone. So, for the last time, do not get involved, at least not until we’ve got to the bottom of this whole mess.”
Maggie made me promise to call every day to keep her up to speed, and she in return promised not to say anything to Michel. After we hung up, it took a long time for me to fall asleep. I tossed and turned late into the night.
