by Scott, S. L.
“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 them 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”
“May I?” she asks, taking the locket in hand. “It’s Victorian in design. So lovely.” Turning it over, she reads the stamp, “Browning. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She lived during the Victorian era.” While she’s talking, I shoot a glance to Bennett whose smug grin says it all. He did know. “We have some of her poems in our collection and have copies of her published books, though they don’t have monetary value. We have them for reference purposes.”
I stand, my fingers pressed against the solid wood of the table. “May I see them?” I grab the piece of paper with the address on it and follow her to her desk. While she types into her computer, I look at the scrap again. “She would have never ruined a book of value, a first edition. But she might if it’s a newer copy.” The librarian eyes me disapprovingly. “My mom loved to read.”
That seems to satisfy her, and she stands. “I’ll be right back with the books.”
I return to the table and sit, my knee bouncing anxiously. “This is it. I know it.”
Holding up her crossed fingers, Ally says, “I feel it, too.”
The librarian sets a small stack on the table, then moves her eyes from the scrap to the books. “The paper looks similar to Browning’s most popular book of poetry. This particular book is used for research if anyone needs it. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask for it, though since it’s not a collector’s edition.”
“This would have been eighteen years ago or longer.”
“Ah,” she says, “I’ve been here twelve.”
My heart starts racing as she fans the pages with her thumb. “Here we are. ‘Sonnets from The Portuguese XLIII.’ A perfect match.” She presses down on the page. “I’m not sure if I should be thrilled to solve the puzzle or charge you for the damage.”
When she starts to laugh, the others do as well, but I’m too stunned to react. “A perfect match,” I say, looking at the scrap and how it fits the page. Taking the book, I read the poem, though I know the words by heart, “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. My mom used to recite this to me while we painted each other’s nails.” I didn’t know I had any more tears left to cry, but happy tears bubble up from the memory.
Bennett moves his chair closer and wraps his arm around me. “I love you.”
Too choked up to say anything, I stare at his hand covering mine and relish his love.
He leans forward, squinting his eyes. “What’s that?” Pointing at the open page. I bend over the table to take a closer look. Written along the inside crease of the spine are tiny words in ink. “That’s a bank!” Bennett says.
“A bank? What is that number after it?” I ask.
Ally says, “A box. A safe deposit box.”
Bennett’s chair tips back when he bolts upright. He’s quick to pick it up and grab my hand. “We have to go.”
The librarian startles but picks up the book and hands it to me. “Take it. We can replace it.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much for helping us!”
Holding the book to my chest, we rush from the library to the SUV parked one block down. The bank is in the Financial District, and we’re hitting rush hour traffic. Tucked inside the vehicle, I say, “Now I’m stressed.”
“We’ll make it,” Bennett replies.
The fun we had on the way to the library has turned serious heading to the bank. It’s not like we can’t go tomorrow, but if we can make it today, we’ll know our next move as opposed to running through imaginary scenarios all night if we don’t.
As if my mom works her magic, the traffic clears in our lane, and we cruise through the green lights. At the curb, we file out, and I hurry inside with fifteen minutes to spare before closing. “Hi, where do I go for safe deposit boxes?”
The guard directs us to a desk, but when I look back, Bennett and the others have stayed behind. He says, “This is all you.”
I want to shout my love for this man from the rooftops, but I don’t have a moment to spare, so I’ll show him later. As soon as a banker greets me, I say, “I have a bank deposit box.”
She smiles. “I’ll be happy to help you. What’s the number and name?”
“1753.” I go with my mom’s name. “Nora Nobleman.”
She types in the information and then peeks up at me. Types some more and then leans toward me from the other side of the desk. “Do you have a key and ID?” Damn it.
“I have my ID. Nora’s my mother. She passed away.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I take it as a good sign that she’s still waiting for my ID.
I dig it out of my purse and set it between us. She analyzes it while I add, “I don’t have a key.”
Pushing my ID back, she digs a key from the back of the drawer, and says, “It’s password protected. Do you know what you need?”
“What I need?”
“That’s the question I’m supposed to ask you, Ms. Nobleman,” she replies with an endearing smile.
What I need . . . like in the phrase. I roll the question around in my head, trying to remember everything my mother ever said to me. “Love? Mother? Mom? Nora? Am I limited?”
“I’m not a computer,” she says with a sympathetic laugh. “We’re only limited by the bank closing. Unfortunately, we close in ten minutes.”
I tap my nails nervously on the desk. “My name?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
Help me, Mom. What do I need? She didn’t know Bennett. I look back and see the others waiting patiently. I don’t want to disappoint them. What can it be? The click of my nails draws my attention, and I see the polish I had painted again the other day. “Stay the warrior you were born to be. Warrior blue. I need to be strong. I need to be a warrior.”
She pushes the key over to me and stands. “You’ll have privacy in the room, but please note we close in a few minutes.”
“Wait, what?” I pop up from the seat. “What did I say? Strong? Blue?” I gasp. “Warrior? Oh, my God!” Tilting my head back, I whisper, “Thank you, Mom.”
“Yes, Ms. Nobleman. Right this way.”
Looking back at Bennett, Ally, and Hutton, I jump and squeal, totally giddy. “Yes!”
I’m given a round of applause and take a bow. “I knew you could do it,” Bennett says.
We did it, Mom, I praise, my heart full knowing she’s been with me all along.
I’m quick to the room, knowing I only have two minutes. Locating the box, I stick the key in, my mind going wild with what could be inside. After I set the heavy metal box on the table, I lift the lid while holding my breath.
Then I release it, deflated when I find another envelope from the same law firm. “Okay, what is this?” Opening it, I pull out the folded letterhead and spread it flat on the table, reading it slowly.
And then again. Until the security guard knocks on the door. “Closing time.”
I glance from him back to the paper, reading the title once more before I fold it and stuff it back into the envelope. I don’t know what to think, and I’m too nervous to assume it’s what I think it is.
When the glass door opens, I rush from the room and straight into Bennett’s arms. “You will never believe it.”
40
Bennett
Night surrounds the legal offices of Everest Enterprises, and I keep the blinds closed because I don’t want anyone to see us in here. I also keep Winter away from the windows.
“I’ve put in a call to Mrs. Nobleman’s lawyer,” says Reegan, Everest Enterprises’ lead legal eagle. “He drafted the document, not leaving any room for interpretation. It’s straightforward. Based on the legal language, if Winter claims her rights under this document, she’ll own Nobleman Inc.”
This
confirms what we suspected. Winter hasn’t said much in the past ten minutes as shock fully sets in. Still staring at the paper, she finally exhales. “Um . . . huh.”
Ally smiles and leans over. “Winter?”
“Yes?” She glances over at her.
“Do you have any questions?”
“I do.” She looks at Reegan. “Do you mind repeating it for me?”
Laughing, he replies, “Not at all. So this paragraph says that Nora Nobleman grants her stake in the corporation to the sole designated receiving party. This is where your name, Winter Renee Nobleman, has been filled in. This document is signed by her, your father, her lawyer, and has been notarized. It’s official and will hold up in court.”
“And that means?”
“That means if you sign here, you accept the agreement and can enforce it.” He glances at Winter, and then continues, “This paragraph notes that if you deem the company is not being held to previous standards of better business set forth in this paragraph—mishandling of funds, treatment of employees, poor decisions and bad deals, you can take back the rights from the current CEO and dismiss him without severance. How has the company been performing? Do you have data from the past five years?”
Winter grins. “I sure do.”
Her stint as a corporate spy with insider information has finally paid off.
She rests her elbow on the desk and gives the document a closer look. The office is so quiet I can hear her whispering to herself as she rereads each line. Again. Finally, she angles toward me, and says, “We have some firing to do.”
I chuckle. “We do indeed.”
* * *
“I remember when I showed up the Monday after I graduated with my briefcase in hand, my résumé tucked inside, and a head full of optimism.” She glances up at me. “I thought for sure I had done everything right. I thought my father would finally see me as an asset to the team.”
