It’s time to awaken.
And Chicago is the perfect place for that to happen.
The city streets all but hum with unrestrained energy.
I glance at Dominic, thankful for his constant guiding presence in my life. Without any words spoken between us, he seems to understand just how significant this moment feels. It’s as if I’m on the cusp of a brand-new life. Sliding his arm around my waist, he tugs me close.
Several factors went into my decision to pick up and move, but Dominic topped the list. He’s all I have left. Technically, he isn’t my family. Not by blood, anyway. He’s my godfather. Dominic is the one person I can call at any time of the day or night, and he’ll sit silently on the other end of the line, knowing exactly how I feel. In a way, he feels it too. The loss of my parents has blown a hole in his life as well.
“Even though you have this place, you’re welcome to stay with me. Anytime, Gracie. My house will always be your home.”
His words have my lips tipping up at the corners. He has no idea what that means to me. Just how appreciative I am for them. For the sentiment behind them. No matter what happens, I will always have Dominic. He’s my safety net. My rock. My de facto family.
As his deep blue eyes crinkle, his mouth curves into a smile.
He knows exactly how difficult this is for me.
Starting over.
Leaving the past behind.
Trying to carve out a new life for myself.
One my parents are no longer a part of.
That thought pierces my heart, making it difficult to breathe.
“I know.” With thoughts of my parents and this move churning in my mind, I slowly lower my head until I’m able to rest it against the side of his arm. I can’t believe I’m a few blocks from Lakeshore Drive. The views are as sweeping as they are breathtaking. I’m lucky to have found this place. “Thank you.”
“Your graduate program doesn’t start for another three weeks. You could always stay at the house until then. There’s certainly no rush for you to be on your own. That way you can take your time and ease into your new life. Is there any reason you should be thrown into the deep end of the pool just yet?”
He’s right. I could crash at his place for the next couple of weeks.
But I don’t think I want to. I need to be on my own.
Well… I need to give it a try.
The last two years have been both emotionally, as well as mentally, crippling. I was two months into my junior year when my parents died. From what the police could tell, my father had been driving too fast for the weather conditions. They’d been hit with a terrible storm. Torrential downpours. I have no idea why they didn’t just pull over and outwait the weather. Ultimately, that decision cost them their lives.
And made me an orphan in the process.
No parents.
No siblings.
No grandparents, aunts, or uncles.
My parents had been only children and their parents were now deceased, leaving me with no one.
Lost in a debilitating haze of heartache, I’d wanted to drop out of college. Dominic is the one who convinced me to stick it out and finish up the academic year. It hadn’t been easy. I’d almost flunked out that fall semester. Depression. Grief. Sadness. I had been adrift in a sea of despondency that had threatened to swallow me whole.
Because Dominic had been close to my parents, he’d long ago been set up as my guardian if the worst ever occurred. He spoke with the school, asking for leniency when I’d been on the verge of getting kicked out. It took nine months before I started fighting my way back again. Retaking a few classes, I focused on graduating from the university and getting the hell out of there.
I applied to a few graduate programs and was lucky to get accepted at Northwestern. My essay and interview were enough to sway them into giving me a chance to prove myself. Before the accident, I had been a straight A student. Once I was finally able to emerge from my cocoon of grief, I was able to get back on track again.
“I need this,” I murmur quietly. “I think it’s going to be good for me.” I don’t know whether I’m trying to reassure him or myself.
But the words ring true.
Right now, in this very moment, I need them to be true.
I need to believe that life will continue to improve from here on out.
Gently he presses his lips against my temple. “It will be, Gracie. I have no doubt about that.” He pauses for a moment. “I just can’t help but wish you were staying at the house. At least for a little while. I don’t want you getting overwhelmed. Moving, starting school, volunteering…”
I understand his concern. In a way, I have the same fears. But it seems necessary. As if I need to shock my system into living again.
When I don’t immediately respond, he continues, “The last two years have been…” His softly spoken words trail off into nothingness.
We both know what it’s been like. The sheer depth of my despair has, at times, frightened him.
Sucking in a breath, I force it back out into the world. “Difficult.”
To say the least.
His arm tightens around me. “I’m happy to have you back again.”
Both of my parents were born in Seattle, which is why we ended up moving back there when I was in seventh grade. At the time, my mom’s parents had still been alive, and she’d wanted to be closer to them. To help them out.
My parents met Dominic while they were attending law school in Chicago. They had liked the city so much, they’d stuck around after graduating. Both of them took jobs with the district attorney’s office. So, I was born in Chicago. Until moving to Seattle, this had been the only home I’d ever known. I loved Chicago. Loved everything about the city. The ties that I had here, the memories, and the happy childhood spent wandering around museums and zoos played a huge part in my decision to return.
No matter how many years have crept by, Chicago has always been where my heart was. It just felt like home. More so than Seattle ever had.
A feeling of rightness settles over me like a comforting blanket. “I’m glad to be here.”
Even after my family moved to Seattle, we still spent a lot of time with Dominic. He visited for holidays. We vacationed together. He’s been an ever-constant presence in my life. After my parents died, I spent my school breaks with him. There was always a plane ticket waiting for me. I never had to ask or broach the subject. I never felt unwanted or unloved.
Spending time alone in the Seattle house without my parents… I just couldn’t do it. There were too many memories. A tidal wave of grief just waiting to suck me under when I least expected it always lingered in the background.
Our house in Seattle was massive. A five-bedroom rambling old Victorian with soaring ceilings and intricate woodwork that my parents spent four painstaking years refinishing in their spare time. As someone who appreciated architecture, I loved all the fancy molding and trim, gorgeous stained-glass windows, and glossy hardwood floors.
I haven’t been back in almost a year and a half. I can’t bear to walk through the front door. Mom and Dad’s stamps are everywhere. There’s no where I can go without a hundred different memories flooding into my mind.
And my heart.
As of right now, the house is closed up. Dominic pays a company to handle the upkeep and maintenance until we figure out what to do with it. There’s no way I can rent it out to strangers. Nor can I bring myself to sell it.
How can I possibly sell all the memories that lay dormant within?
I suppose at some point I’ll have to decide what to do, but for now it can wait. There’s no hurry. My parents inherited a great deal of money from my mother’s family. It’s all sitting in a trust that Dominic manages for me.
Rising up onto the worn toes of my Converse sneakers, I kiss the side of his face. “Thanks for everything.”
With his arm still wrapped around my waist, his eyes soften as he continues gazing down at me. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re
family.” He cracks just a hint of a smile as he says, “It’s just you and me, kid. Against the world.”
I can’t help but return his easy affection. It may be just the two of us, but I consider myself fortunate to have him in my life.
Unlike my parents, who worked as prosecutors in the district attorney’s office, Dominic decided to go the route of high-priced defense attorney. He didn’t come from money the way my parents did. He would always wink, jokingly saying that he couldn’t afford to be a bleeding-heart liberal like my parents. After practicing law for about five years, he opened his own office and bought a beautiful, old stately house on the Northshore. It’s situated right on Lake Michigan.
Never married, there have been a slew of girlfriends over the years. There have even been a few close calls where we thought he might pop the question, but it never happened.
I remember my dad laughing and my mother shaking her blond head as she rolled her twinkling blue eyes at his quintessential bachelorhood. He has always seemed perfectly content to date one beautiful woman after another. Once I’d overheard my father mutter something about Dominic having a whole stable full of pussy.
I hadn’t understood what that meant at the time and I hadn’t wanted to figure it out either. All I cared about was that Dominic was great fun to be around. Always smiling and laughing, he was the life of every party. People naturally gravitated to his charismatic personality. Women especially. In fact, they still do.
When I’d been in high school, I’d secretly crushed on him.
Who wouldn’t?
Dominic was tall and handsome. He had broad shoulders, a tapered waist, elegant hands, and thick blond hair. His bright blue eyes always seemed to be filled with mischief. He had perpetually tanned skin from taking his sailboat out on the weekends. Other than practicing law, sailing was his other great passion. He didn’t have a thin build, but he wasn’t overly muscular either. He spent the work week outfitted in expensive, handmade suits and the weekends in khakis, polos, and Sperry topsiders.
He reminded me of a walking Ralph Lauren ad, content to live the good life.
I pegged him to be somewhere around forty-five. He was one of those men who grew more attractive, more distinguished, with age. The little laugh lines bracketing his eyes made him more striking. Last year, when the two of us had celebrated his birthday, I’d teased him mercilessly because he wouldn’t tell me how old he was. As a gag gift, I gave him a cane, denture cream, and a subscription to AARP magazine.
He had not been amused.
The recollection still makes me smile.
It’s one of the few happy memories I have to hold onto in a churning sea of sadness and grief. So, I’ve held tightly onto those fleeting moments with both hands. They have been far too rare and much too precious to ever take for granted.
“In no time at all, this place will feel like home.”
Giving him a smile, I say, “It already does.” Leaning my body into his, he tightens his arm around my waist. “You’re here.”
Chapter Two
Looking quite handsome, George, the doorman, is decked out in full regalia. From the smart looking cap on his balding head to the shiny black shoes adorning his feet and the red wool coat and black pants in between, he fits right in with the elegance and formality Lexington Place, the building I have chosen to call home, prides itself on.
What I really like about it though, is how seriously the owners take security. It’s like Fort Knox around here. After setting up an appointment for a tour, I was immediately background checked. As I was shown around, the manager was quick to point out all the hidden cameras and panic buttons discretely placed throughout the building and inside the condos. The employees that were staffed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And the fingerprint entry technology that was used for each door. I’ve never been overly concerned about personal safety, but the extra measures made me feel better since I’ll be living on my own.
This morning I stopped in the lobby and chatted with George for a few minutes. Rather helpfully, he directed me to the nearest grocery store, which is a Whole Foods, about four blocks away.
That works out perfectly since I don’t have a car. It seems like more of a hindrance when living in a city that is so walkable. Traffic is usually heavy, and parking can be a nightmare. There are always plenty of available taxicabs. Plus, the city has a subway and bus system. Since Dominic keeps a driver on staff, all I have to do is text him, and he’ll send Henry to pick me up.
With my purse in hand and comfortable sandals adorning my feet, I take my time meandering down the sidewalk, simply enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. There’s such a vibrant energy here. It’s infectious. I look in shop windows, popping in one or two places to check out a few wares that catch my eye.
Once I’m at the grocery store, I grab a small cart and pick out what I’ll need for the next few days. I try to be conscious that the walk back to my building is four blocks, I don’t want to buy too much.
When I moved in a few days ago, Dominic took me shopping, and we filled up the fridge and cupboards. Unfortunately, a couple of things were forgotten. I buy just enough to fill two small bags, which feels manageable to carry, before retracing my steps again.
As I stroll back to Lexington Place, I can’t deny that there is something thrilling about being smack-dab in the middle of downtown. I don’t know if it’s the noise. Maybe it’s the people, most of whom seem to be rushing to get from one place to another. You can easily spot the ones who live here- they seem unimpressed by their surroundings, as if they’ve grown used to the chaos. They’ve got earbuds shoved in or are multitasking on their phones.
The tourists, on the other hand, are the ones with awe painted across their lit-up faces as they stare unabashedly around them, trying to take everything in all at once. The high-end shops. The exclusive hotels. The restaurants. They gaze up at the skyscrapers with bright eyes filled with wonder.
Excitement bursts within me like an overfilled bubble.
I love it.
I love everything about being downtown.
The sensory overload. The sights and sounds. The smells of different restaurants all blending together. The contrasting colors of the buildings and shops. The merchandise displayed enticingly in windows. Taxis and buses barreling down the street.
I feel more alive at this moment than I have since my parents passed away. In no time at all, I reach the building. I’m a little disappointed to have returned so soon. I could wander around the city for hours, just soaking everything up like a greedy sponge.
Right away, George grabs the door for me. “Found the store without any problems?”
“None at all. Your directions were excellent. Thank you.”
“Just remember, you can always call us if you’re unable to walk back with your groceries, Ms. Castile. It’s one of the perks of living at Lexington place.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” I can’t contain the bright smile that blooms across my face. “It’s just so beautiful out. Perfect weather for exploring the neighborhood.”
Almost instantly an answering smile lights up his weathered face, and I know instantly that he’s a cheerful, friendly man. I have a feeling that George and I will become fast friends. Other than Dominic, I don’t know anyone else in the city.
“That it is, Ms. Castile.”
Jostling around one of the bags, I push the call button for the elevator. After falling in love with the condo online while still living in Seattle, Dominic contacted the manager straightaway. He scouted out the building and surrounding neighborhood, making sure it would be a safe place for me to live.
I wouldn’t say that Dominic fought me every step of the way, but he pointed out every disadvantage of living here. I know he hoped that I would stay with him for a while, taking my time to find new living arrangements. I wasn’t averse to the idea, but after finding this place, I knew it wouldn’t be necessary.
Visiting the condo in person
was the first time in forever that I’d felt excitement pumping through my veins. I think Dominic could sense it as well, which is why he didn’t throw up too many roadblocks.
Even though Dominic has a massive house, certainly more than enough room for us to live without being on top of each other, I craved my own space. I wanted to be close to school and The Art Institute of Chicago, where I’ll be volunteering. I’m hoping that by the time I need to land an internship, their familiarity with me will give me an edge over other candidates vying for the same position. My dream is to one-day work for them as a curator. There are other art museums in the area, and I would be grateful to land a position at any of them. But I have so many fond memories of The Art Institute.
While most kids don’t find strolling through the corridors of a museum and learning about art to be fun or exciting, it’s always been one of my favorite pastimes. Even as a small child, I could stare in fascination at a landscape for hours at a time, studying every minute detail. I would curl up on a bench and try my hand at sketching replicas.
Right down the street from my building is the Field Museum, the Museum of Science and Industry, Shedd Aquarium, Adler Planetarium, and The Museum of Contemporary Art. Having all of these spectacular places no more than a mile or so from where I live leaves me feeling nothing short of giddy.
How could anyone be bored in a city like this?
I plan on filling my days with school, volunteering, and museums when time allows.
“Have a good day, George,” I call before stepping onto the elevator.
“You too, Ms. Castile.”
Pushing the button for the thirtieth floor, I wait for the doors to close. Just as they start sliding shut, a big, masculine hand shoots out and catches the metal frame in one palm. My eyes widen with surprise as the doors immediately slide open. A moment later, a man steps inside the cabin with me. Feeling just a bit uncomfortable, I shift, knowing that I should probably say hello and introduce myself, but there’s something about him that makes me reluctant to draw any attention to myself.
As soon as that thought flutters through my head, he pins me in place with dark, velvety eyes. My breath stalls as his gaze continues piercing mine. At that moment, under his sharp scrutiny, I feel frozen in place. Unable to move a single muscle. The phone he’s holding chirps, breaking the thick tension that fills the small, enclosed space.
Claiming What's Mine Page 20
