by Calia Read
“My father disagrees,” I say, trying to bring her back to the topic at hand.
“Oh, of course. You know what he once told me? That it’s clear to see I support preservation instead of the education of our youth. The audacity! Never mind the fact Langley is one of the last remaining homes designed by renowned architects Patrick Kresicher and Charles Pike before they moved in the direction of commercial buildings. The original blueprints of this home exist, making it impossible to dispute who designed the house.”
Slowly, I nod. The whole education versus preservation was mentioned on the site, and it clearly was a hot button topic. And as far as my dad...the man who raised me would have never gaslighted someone like that. The dad I knew believed in the importance of history and the role it played in the present day. He would never let a historic mansion be replaced by a parking lot.
I look away, suddenly embarrassed at being related to this man who I share a last name with. I pick up my purse from the floor before I look at Andrea. “Can I have Alisha’s number?”
She slaps her palm against her forehead. “Oh, I completely forgot.” She grabs a notepad from the top of one of the filing cabinets and scribbles down a number before she tears off the sheet and hands it to me. “This is her number. I’ll set up everything. You just have to meet her.”
I tuck her phone number into the side pocket of my purse for safekeeping. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
A tense silence descends around us. “I’m sorry this is happening,” I say awkwardly.
She dips her head in acknowledgment and looks around the room before she sighs. “I know. Just by you showing up, you’ve revealed that. I just wish there was more we could’ve done for this beautiful place, but we’re simply out of options.”
I sling my purse over my shoulder and shrug. “You never know. Something might change in the final hour. In my experience, stranger things have happened.”
As Andrea promised, she set up a lunch with Alisha. Unfortunately, Alisha isn’t free for another three days, so I fill those days researching Emmeline’s sister, Margo. Unlike Emmeline, Margo is an open book. The chapters of her life have been written, and her story ends with a happily ever after. Margo came to the States sometime in 1914, lived in Chicago briefly, and then married Isaac Dunmire later that year. They moved to Nevada, then she had two kids (a boy and a girl), and died at the age of seventy-seven. For all intents and purposes, her life was full.
I arrive ten minutes early armed with a manila folder filled with information printed off from Ancestry.com about the Langley side. I figured it would be good to show Alisha some proof I was who I said I was, so she wouldn’t think I was some random weirdo.
Underneath the table, my legs nervously bob up and down. I look down at my clothes. I dressed casually in jeans and a dark green turtleneck. What is Alisha going to be like? Will she give me any new information that will help me better understand Emmeline? Andrea mentioned Alisha having photos. Will she have a lot of Emmeline? Does she have the rest of the letters between Asa and Emmeline?
The number of questions swirling in my head are overwhelming, but I’d rather have these overwhelming questions than focus on the overwhelming guilt I have for how I treated Étienne. A day has passed since I’ve been home. My doubt is growing stronger. What if something terrible is happening to him right now? What if something terrible was building up the entire time I was there, but I was so focused on my resentment to notice?
You can’t focus on that now, my mind whispers. Focus on finding the truth about Emmeline.
The restaurant where Andrea told me to meet Alisha is starting to slowly fill with people coming in on their lunch break. Clouds have rolled in with frigid temps, causing yesterday’s snow to remain on the ground. The sun’s trying to push past the clouds, but it’s no match. I look at the slight water streaks on the table. I’ve never been here before, but when Andrea asked if I was familiar with the place, I said yes. As I look around, I realize this restaurant is the perfect neutral ground for two strangers to meet.
If Alisha makes it. We were supposed to meet at eleven thirty, and that was five minutes ago. I reach for my purse and begin to dig for my phone when the front door chimes. I crane my neck in that direction, trying to get a better glimpse of who just entered. A woman around five-foot-nine with brown hair speaks to the hostess. Her eyes flit every which way as she talks. She has a shy yet lively energy about her. Like one of those people who are quiet at first, but then immediately opens up once they get to know you. I watch as she adjusts the strap of her purse and follows the hostess toward my table. Immediately, I look away and stare at my folder, trying to pretend I wasn’t staring at them.
When Alisha approaches, I scoot out of the booth and stand, holding my hand out. “You must be Alisha. I’m Serene Langley.” I have to force the last name Langley out of my mouth because it just seems wrong.
Her brown eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles at me. “It’s nice to see you. And, please, call me Allie.”
“Allie it is.” I gesture to the booth. “Take a seat. I know this isn’t exactly the most comfortable lunch to have.”
She laughs as she sits down. “You could say that.”
“I spoke with Andrea a few days ago while I toured Langley Hall. When she mentioned your name, I knew I had to meet you.”
A waitress comes over and takes our drink order. We skip the appetizers. The minute the waitress leaves, Allie links her hands together on the table and leans in. Her brown eyes are earnest and sincere. “To be honest with you, I was more than mildly curious when Andrea contacted me. I’m not sure what info you think I can give you.”
“I will take anything. Up until a few days ago, I didn’t know Emmeline had a sister.”
“Seriously?”
I nod.
Allie nervously laughs. “It’s funny you keep calling her Emmeline. Before I came here, I spoke to my mom. She was excited I was meeting with you, but she referred to your great-great-grandma by her nickname, Little Poison. That’s all my great-great-grandma would call her.”
It makes sense. If one of my brothers up and decided to change their names, I would stubbornly call them by their real name or nickname, merely to preserve the memories I had with them.
I smirk. “Margo sounds stubborn.”
“She was. But a quiet kind of stubborn. She didn’t fully agree with Emmeline changing her name although she understood why.”
“Why did she call Emmeline Little Poison?” I ask.
Allie pats the metal clasped envelope on the table in front of her and slides it toward me. “That information is all in here.”
My eyes volley back and forth between her and the envelope. My hand hovers above it. Is this mine to keep? No, it can’t be possible. Things this hard to find don’t fall into someone’s lap.
I stare at Allie expectantly. She gives me an encouraging nod. “That’s for you. My mom and I both agree you should have copies of the letters between Margo and Emmeline. And in regard to the pictures of Emmeline...” She pauses and gives me a small smile. “They’re now in the right hands. Although I feel bad my mom gave the original documents about Emmeline to Andrea. I’m sure you’ve seen them already. What I’m giving you today are documents even Andrea hasn’t seen, though.”
I want to tear the envelope open and find those pictures now, but that would be rude. I tuck my hands beneath my thighs to hold myself back and give Allie a smile. “Thank you so much.”
She waves away my words and takes a drink. “It’s my pleasure. I won’t say much about the contents of the envelope, but I can’t help but mention the picture of Margo working at Hambleton’s flagship store as a secretary.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I didn’t know that, but considering I didn’t even know about Margo’s existence up until three days ago, it’s pretty obvious. “Did she work there long?”
“For about three years.”
“What’s int
eresting to me is she worked there after her sister died. My mom once told me her mother mentioned Margo only worked there to save money so she could move and file for legal custody of Henry. There’s no legal paperwork to prove that claim. But she had met my great-great-grandfather while she lived in Chicago. After they married, they moved to Nevada and had kids of their own. I do know Margo never had contact with Henry once she left Illinois.” Allie lets her words hang in the air and then shrugs. It’s clear she wants to say more, but about what, I don’t know. When I get home, I’ll find out.
I whistle at that tidbit of information. “Wow. From how you’ve described Margo, getting custody of Henry sounds like something she would do.”
The woman had balls of steel. I like it.
Allie laughs. “She certainly was strong-minded. Now, I have a question for you.”
“Ask away,” I reply.
Her eyes look out the window, and I see a hint of nervousness there before she glances at me. “Why is your family fighting so hard to have Langley Hall torn down? My mom got in contact with Andrea through her site, and they’ve formed a friendly relationship. Andrea and her team simply want to conserve history. Your family’s history. It doesn’t make sense.”
I sigh loudly. “No, it doesn’t. I agree. That’s why I wanted to meet with you. I’m attempting to figure out what they’re desperately trying to hide.”
“Do you truly believe they’re hiding something, or are they simply ignorant?”
“I think they’re hiding something. Just the documents Andrea showed me days ago is proof of that. Now there is something I wanted to ask you about.”
Allie looks at me patiently.
“There wouldn’t happen to be Emmeline’s marriage certificate to her second husband, Matthew, in this envelope, would there?”
A small frown knits her brows. “I don’t think there is. Anything I have has been passed down through my mom, who received everything through her mother, my grandma, Estelle.”
“And Estelle was Mary’s daughter, who was Margo’s daughter,” I clarify.
“Yes,” Allie confirms. “But in regard to Emmeline’s second marriage, it’s doubtful Margo had a lot of information on the nuptials. The wedding was less than a month before Emmeline’s death. Margo became obsessed with obtaining and safeguarding all of Emmeline’s documents. She didn’t want anyone getting their hands on them. At least, that’s how the story’s been passed down through the generations.”
“When you mean anyone, you’re really referring to Uriah, aren’t you?”
There’s a bit of hesitation on Allie’s end, then, “Yes. From what I understand, he wasn’t a kind man.”
“What do you understand about him?”
“Well, it’s implied he was controlling, narcissistic, and cruel.”
“Sounds like every woman’s dream,” I say deadpan.
Allie snorts. “I know, right?”
“Yet he’s credited with being the founder of Hambleton’s. It just sounds off.”
While I’m sure my face mirrors the frustration in my voice, Allie’s eyes twinkle. “I’ve looked through everything Margo had, and I think you’re in for some interesting reading material.”
I lower my voice. “Do Margo and Emmeline talk about Hambleton’s?”
Allie shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. “Read the letters.”
It’s the first thing I’m going to do when I get back to my brother’s condo. Part of me is tempted to rush through the rest of this lunch so I can sate my burning curiosity, but I still have questions running through my mind.
“Do you think Uriah hurt her to keep Hambleton’s?” I ask.
“Are you asking if I think he pushed her off the balcony of the hotel?”
I nod. It’s a heavy accusation, but I’d be lying if I said the thought hasn’t run through my mind numerous times since my conversation with Andrea.
Allie sighs. “Well, Emmeline’s death was deemed a suicide. And it was rumored Uriah was in Chicago when the tragedy happened. However, Matthew was with her.”
“You think Matthew pushed her?”
“I genuinely don’t know.” She tilts her head to the side and looks at me carefully. “You’re very invested in Emmeline’s life.”
Quickly, I look down at the table and stare at the watermarks. What links me to this stranger is our great-great-grandmothers. Allie appreciates her family ancestry just as much as I do. Even Allie can sense I’m taking it to a deeper level, devoted to vindicating Emmeline. How far is too far, though?
“I am,” I agree. “I simply want to know the truth. I think we all deserve that. Don’t you?”
Allie smiles, though she could think I’m a psychopath and is merely trying to placate me. “I do.” She glances down at her watch and does a double take. “Shoot. I lost track of time.”
Pulling out my phone, I see it’s 12:30. I envisioned the minutes ticking by at a torturously slow rate, but I genuinely enjoyed speaking with Allie.
She smiles apologetically at me. “I’m really sorry. But I have to get going. My lunch break is almost over.”
I gesture for the check while Allie slips on her coat.
“Thank you for coming here and meeting with me. I really appreciate this,” I say.
Finishing off her water, she scoots out of the booth and stands. “It was my pleasure. I hope what I gave you will be of some value to you.”
I tap the envelope. “Oh, you have no idea how much value this is to me.”
As Allie walks away, my fingers curl around the edges of the envelope when, in reality, I want to dive deep. My heart hammers in anticipation. The truth is so close. Of that I’m sure. Though what will happen when I uncover Emmeline’s secrets remains to be seen. I can only pray those secrets give me closure to her story and lead me back to Étienne.
“Do you plan on cuttin’ your hair?” Livingston asks.
“No.”
“Perhaps shavin’ has entered your mind?”
I finish buttoning my vest, grab my jacket, and glance over my shoulder at my twin. “Not a once.”
“Scarlett isn’t gonna like that.”
“I don’t care.”
Livingston arches a brow at my remark. I don’t know why he’s surprised. My words are the truth. I don’t care what she thinks or anyone for that matter. I only care what Serene believes, and she’s gone.
In the short amount of time she was here, she revived me. She woke up the part of me that’s been dormant for years. I’ve been breathing and functioning, but the second Serene left, she took every piece of me. I became a hollow shell of a man.
Hollow, yet not dead. She left my life four weeks ago. February slowly rolled into March, yet I’m still surviving off the breath of life she gave me. And it wasn’t the facial hair or lack of haircut allowing me to recognize the man staring back at me in the mirror. No, it’s the affirmation that, whether arguing or laughing, I’m better with Serene.
We are better together.
Sometimes at night, when I can’t sleep, I’ll hear the words, “I like you better untamed. I like you better as Étienne,” in Serene’s voice. I sit up in bed and expect to see her in my room, but she’s never there.
I hurt without her, but I refuse to let the hurt grab ahold of me as it did once before. Serene will come back. Her last visit was wrought with more arguments and pain, but being near her allowed me to find the part of me that I was missing.
It allowed me to honestly take a step back and examine every decision I was making in my life. I always prided myself on being level-headed and strong-minded, but looking back on the past two years, I realized there was so much I did wrong. And now there was so much I needed to make right.
“What is tonight’s dinner for?”
“Scarlett and her father are comin’ to visit.”
“How quaint.”
“Hardly,” I murmur.
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m callin’ off the engagement.”
Livingston’s head swivels in my direction. “What do you mean you’re callin’ off the engagement?”
I shrug and adjust my tie one last time before we walk out of my bedroom and toward the staircase. “It’s exactly what I mean. I can’t go through with marryin’ Scarlett.”
I brace myself for Livingston to dive into a long conversation about Serene and how I will never have a life with her and need to move on.
Instead, he says, “This isn’t because Serene came back is it?”
As we reach the stair landing, I look at him from the corner of my eye. “Another astute observation from you, Livingston,” I remark dryly.
“You remember the conversation we had about movin’ forward with your life, correct?”
“Startin’ now, I’m choosin’ to ignore your advice because you know nothin’ about relationships.”
“You’re right, but just know my advice comes from a good place.”
“I do know. So long as you understand any relationship I have will only be with Serene. I don’t care how long she’s gone. I don’t care if she leaves and returns to my life a thousand times. I’ll be waitin’ a thousand times. And—”
“Okay, okay, Étienne,” Livingston cuts in. He holds his hands up in submission. His words cause me to blink rapidly, and when I do, I realize I’m jabbing my finger into his chest. Immediately, I back away.
Livingston clears his throat and smooths the sleeves of his jacket, brushing off invisible lint. “Now that you’ve established you will wait for Serene, once she comes back, will you propose to her?”
“Will you please keep your voice down?” I hiss and fling a hand in the direction of the closed doors leading to the sitting room where I can hear the voices of Jack, Scarlett, and Nat. “Don’t you believe it’s premature to talk about a second engagement when I haven’t ended my first?”
My brother shrugs. “Answer my question, and we’ll be done with the subject.”
Livingston’s question is one I’ve thought about a lot recently. I stare at the floor. It’s so shiny I can nearly see my reflection.
“I don’t know,” I finally reply.
