The Surviving Trace (Surviving Time Series Book 1)

by Calia Read

  To be honest, I stopped listening right around the part where Étienne said twin. “Hold up, Livingston is your twin? When were you going to mention that little tidbit?”

  “I apologize. Sometimes I forget that you essentially know nothin’ about my family.”

  “Fair enough.” I shake my head in disbelief; it’s obvious Livingston and Étienne are related, but twins? I would’ve never thought that. “Who is the oldest?”

  “I am. By seven minutes.”

  “That sounds about right,” I comment.

  Étienne doesn’t reply. His attention is back on the paperwork in front of him. I’ve effectively been dismissed.

  I go back to scanning his office. Unsurprisingly, Étienne’s desk is meticulously organized. I catch a small copying press off to the side of the desk. On top of a stack of paperwork is a stapler. Embossed on the gray enamel are the words, STAR PAPER FASTENER CO.

  There’s a revolving bookcase off to the left. Two chairs are angled toward Étienne’s desk. I can imagine him having many meetings, staring down some poor chump until they agree to do things his way.

  A nameplate in front of his lamp faces the chairs. In capitalized letters is ÉTIENNE LACROIX.

  “Interesting,” I murmur.

  Étienne gives me a startled glance, almost as if he forgot I was here. “What?”

  I point at the nameplate. “How you spell your name. It’s throwing me off.”

  “It’s French,” he says idly as he continues to scan the paper in front of him. “My father’s family is from France, and it’s a family name.”

  “Now that I’ve seen the spelling, I’m going to butcher your name.”

  He raises a brow and smirks. “Butcher?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Étienne lifts his gaze. “Say it with me slowly—Ay-T-yen.”

  I repeat it a few times in my head before I say it out loud. Étienne doesn’t seem impressed. “Not quite there. But close enough. All throughout school, my name was mispronounced.” He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”

  I continue to pace his office. The whole time, I feel his eyes on me.

  “You can take a seat,” he says.

  I stop walking and face him.

  “Unless you prefer to tread a hole in the rug,” he says.

  I get overwhelmed easily. Instead of focusing on one thing at a time, I let all my jumbled thoughts mingle together, then my mind starts to feel like an overcrowded amusement park. Sitting still right now is the last thing I want to do, but we need to talk. We need to dive head first into this conversation because if I don’t, there’s an excellent chance I’ll never go home.

  That thought makes me freeze in my tracks. My hands curl into fists before I take a deep breath and gingerly sit down. I glance across the desk at Étienne.

  He signs his name at the bottom of a document before he pushes the contract aside. For the first time today, he looks at me for longer than a millisecond. “Where do we begin?”

  Scooting forward in the chair, I rest my elbows on his desk and drum my nails on the smooth surface. There’s not a speck of dust on the shiny mahogany. In fact, I can practically see my reflection.

  “Serene?”

  I lift my head and see Étienne staring at me expectantly.

  “I don’t know.” My hands drop onto my lap. “I’ve ransacked your entire house trying to find pictures or paperwork that would have some connection to my time.”

  Étienne’s eyes narrow. “When?”

  “Yesterday while you were at work. What else do you think I was doing?”

  “A lot of things,” he mutters.

  I bristle at his words and remind myself that this is just as much of a life-altering change for him as it is for me. And even though we may have come to a truce, it’ll take a bit of time for him to not view me as enemy number one.

  I take a deep breath. “The point is, I have no idea where to start.”

  Étienne stares at me long enough that I to squirm. To my relief, he looks away and busies himself with some paperwork on his desk. “It’s overwhelming,” he says.

  My eyes widen imperceptibly, and my heart races. I’m excited because for the first time since I arrived here, I finally feel as if someone understands what I’m experiencing. “Yes. Exactly.”

  “We need to start from the beginnin’. You said that your last name is Parow?”

  I nod.

  “Yesterday I went through my file of clients, searching for the name Parow…”

  I find myself leaning toward him. “And?”

  “And I found nothin’.”

  I slouch and exhale loudly.

  “What are your parents’ names?”

  “Katherine and Daniel.”

  “Mother’s maiden name?”

  “De Valc.”

  “The names don’t sound familiar, but I’ll check. What about your grandparents?”

  At that, I hesitate. My mother’s parents passed away before I was born, as did my dad’s mother. His father’s dad died when I was a kid, but I remember him being distant and aloof. “I’m not sure about my mom’s parents. But I know my grandpa on my dad’s side is named Gregory. My grandma’s name was Olivia.”

  If Étienne’s shocked by my lack of a relationship with my grandparents, it doesn’t show. He just continues to write everything down.

  “What was Gregory’s career?”

  “He worked at our family’s horse farm, Ravenwood Farms, in McLean, Virginia. My family still runs the business,” I say with a hint of pride. “The business was started by my great-great-grandfather.” I look at the ceiling as I try to remember his name. Nothing comes to mind. “I don’t remember his name.”

  “Is it safe to say your family originated from Virginia?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Étienne’s hand glides across the paper from left to right as he writes everything down. When he’s done, he stares at me expectantly.

  There’s so much I need to say, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Ihaveafiancé.”

  Étienne blinks once. Then twice. “Who?”

  “His name is Will Myles. I met him in college. He proposed this past summer.”

  He doesn’t say anything. His face is impassive. What’s running through that mind of his? He drops his pen and glances at me. It’s not lost on me that he didn’t write down Will’s name.

  “We’ll start from there and find answers somehow. It’s not gonna happen overnight.” Étienne’s voice is gruff. He doesn’t smile encouragingly, but he doesn’t need to. He says the word we as though we’re in this together, and that’s all I need.

  I open my mouth to say thank you and that I appreciate him trying to help, but he shoots me an impatient glance. “You can go now. I’m sure Warren is still in town and will pick you up.”

  Asshole.

  I cross my legs and make myself comfortable in my chair. “I think I’ll stay here.”

  “Suit yourself,” he mutters then puts on his glasses and gets to work.

  Minutes pass, even though they feel like hours as I grow restless. Étienne is in the zone, pouring over the document in front of him as though his life depends on it. In fact, I’m confident he’s forgotten I’m still in the room.

  “What do you invest in?” I ask.

  “Mainly real estate, but I’m willing to dabble in any industry.”

  I stand; my back is starting to ache. To get a rise out of Étienne, I perch on the edge of his desk, and it works. His head whips up as he blinks rapidly. I see the shock in his eyes.

  “What’s this?” I ask casually, gesturing to the papers in front of him.

  “A few months ago, I invested in a new company.”

  “What company?” I attempt to read the paper, but the cursive makes it impossible to make out the words.

  “Chevrolet Motor Car Company,” he says idly. “But I’m unsure. There have been no production models except for one.”

  My lips curve into a slow smile. �
�Something tells me that you shouldn’t worry about that investment.”

  He cocks his head to the side and stares at me skeptically. “What do you mean?”

  I hop off his desk and do a lap around his office. “This company you’re unsure of will merge with General Motors and go on to compete with Henry Ford. I only know that because my dad is a history junkie.”

  “Amazing.” He discards the paperwork in front of him and peers at me with a new light in his eye. “What else can you tell me?”

  I stop and look at him over my shoulder. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “If I knew everything, I wouldn’t be standing here in the same room as you. I would’ve figured out a way to go home.”

  Étienne smirks. “True. But I simply want you to tell me about the economy, technology, and way of life in your time.”

  “Are you asking because you’re genuinely curious or because you want to take my answers and apply them to your investments?”

  “Both. I’d be a fool not to ask.”

  What an idiot I’ve been. All this time I’ve been so focused on getting him to believe me that I never stopped to think what the aftermath would be. I never thought he would be so curious about my time.

  “A huge fool,” I finally reply.

  I walk back to his desk, sit on the edge, and tell him all about the incredible advancements made in the car industry. From the speed and radios to body styles. He lights up when I tell him that vehicles now come with backup cameras. Oddly enough, he finds the seat belt to be the most fascinating thing.

  When I finish talking, I take a deep breath. Étienne leans back in his seat and whistles. I smile and feel a slight buzz from striking Étienne speechless. Something tells me that very few people are able to do that.

  As he soaks in all the information, I look at his neatly stacked pile of newspapers and grab the first one I see. At the top of the front page, in old English font, is the News and Courier.

  Beneath it, in a much smaller font is the price of the paper. A whopping five cents. Then there’s the established date of the newspaper (1803) and today’s date, April 16th, 1912. I’ve been here for four days now.

  The front-page headline is about the Titanic. I’m not the least bit surprised. It probably will be for some time. As the days pass more and more details will emerge. My gut twists at the thought.

  “Do you always grab everythin’ in front of you?”

  I lift my head. “Are you always such a control freak?”

  “I have to be. If I weren’t, my business would be in shambles.” He flicks me a quick glance. “Do you have an occupation in your time?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  His brows rise in surprise. “And it would be?”

  “I’m a porn star by day and moonlight as a stripper on the weekends,” I say without missing a beat. While Étienne struggles to form a coherent sentence, I pretend to inspect my cuticles. After a few seconds, I gaze at him innocently. “You do know what a stripper is, right?”

  He closes his mouth and sits up straight. A red flush starting from his neck spreads up to his jawline. “Of course I do.”

  “I’m sure you’re wondering about the whole porn star job title. That’s where you have sex on camera. It’s a very lucrative business,” I explain.

  Étienne says nothing, and it takes everything in my power not to break my stoic facade.

  “Do you…” He swallows. “Is that truly your occupation?”

  I throw my hands up and laugh. “Of course not. But I have to say, it was amazing seeing the look on your face.”

  He glares at me while subtly adjusting his collar. “Are you done jestin’?”

  “Yes, I’m done.” I lace my fingers in my lap. “I run an antique shop with my friend. It’s called Past Repeat.”

  Étienne seems more shocked by that than the whole stripper thing.

  “This time, I promise I’m telling you the truth.”

  “I know.”

  “So why do you look so shocked? Didn’t think a woman can run her own business?”

  “I did not say that. A woman can do whatever she pleases. My wife is proof of that,” he adds bitterly. He claims he’s okay with it, but I can see in his eyes that he’s not one hundred percent sold on the idea of me running my own business.

  “Well, I’m not your wife. In my time, I don’t sit around and spend money. I spend most of my time going to flea markets, estate sales, and anywhere else I can get my hands on antique items. Then I polish them up, fix broken pieces of furniture, and sell them.”

  That grabs his attention. “Is it profitable?”

  “Am I bringing in the money you are? No. But we’re breaking even, and I love what I do. That’s enough for me.”

  There’s a small—practically microscopic—amount of respect in his eyes. “It took me a well over a year before my investments started to pay off.”

  “What kept you going?”

  “Probably the same thing that keeps you going. I love what I do,” he admits. He leans in as though we’re co-conspirators. I find myself leaning in too. “Whether it be real estate or companies that are just startin’, I find the entire process exhilarating. Investments simply center around timing and sheer luck.”

  “Have you ever lost money?”

  “Of course. But I look at those moments as invigorating because I learn from them and never make the same mistake twice.”

  From the determination in his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw, I believe every word he says. I love what I do, but I don’t think I’ll ever have the drive to succeed that Étienne has. Very few people do.

  “I have to confess that my favorite part of running Past Repeat is go—”

  The door opens, and a man barges in. “Étienne, we need to send a telegraph to Kenworthy and let him know whether you’re still interested in the property outside of Mount Pleasant.”

  “Sure, I’m interested. But he’s askin’ too much.”

  The man’s head is bent as he scans the paper in his hand. “I’ve spoken to him twice about the price. I don’t think—” He lifts his head and shuts up when he sees me sitting on the edge of Étienne’s desk.

  The minute I get a good look at him, a lightbulb goes off in my head. He’s the fourth man in my photo. The one standing next to Étienne.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company,” the man says stiffly.

  “It’s all right, Asa,” Étienne says, putting extra emphasis on the name Asa.

  Asa gives me a cursory glance. “It’s nice to see you, Serene.”

  “Uhh… you too,” I say, although it comes out more like a question.

  I wait for something to happen now that I finally know who each man in the picture is. Maybe that’s all that I need to go back to my own time, but as the seconds tick by, nothing occurs. No headache. No feeling of falling backward. The room doesn’t spin around me. It was wishful thinking on my part.

  “Did you look over the Chevrolet Motor Car Company proposal?” Asa says.

  “Yes.” Étienne sneaks a quick glance in my direction. “I think this would be a good investment opportunity.”

  Frowning, Asa grabs the paper. He scans the words for a few seconds before he glances at Étienne. “Are you positive?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Before Asa opens his mouth, he gives me a pointed look and waits. I know he wants me to leave, but there’s no way in hell I’m missing what he has to say. Once he realizes I’m not going anywhere, his cheeks turn red. He flicks his gaze back to Étienne. “I mentioned two days ago that this investment could be risky and that it might be a better choice to pass.”

  “I know that, but I decided I want to take that risk.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “Me,” I cut in.

  In unison, their eyes swivel my direction.

  Asa crosses his arms. “What gives you the authority to hand out investment advice?”

 
; “No authority. Only a gut instinct.”

  “Really?”

  I nod.

  “Did your gut instinct also tell you to spend Étienne’s money on parties you have no business hostin’?”

  “No. But my gut instinct is telling me that I should knee you in the balls.”

  “I’m afraid she’s tellin’ the truth,” Étienne pipes in. “I’ve seen firsthand that she’ll make good on her word.”

  Asa doesn’t lighten up. He obviously dislikes me because of the things Old Serene has done or said, but it goes deeper than that. He continues to glare at me. “Why don’t you busy yourself with plannin’ another party? Or maybe you’d be more interested in buying hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothes with money you didn’t earn.”

  I open my mouth, ready to tell him to go fuck off.

  “That’s enough,” Étienne says. His voice is quiet, yet commanding.

  Asa’s eyes widen imperceptibly. He clearly can’t believe that Étienne didn’t come to his defense. Seconds later, Asa leaves the room.

  I don’t know what got into me. I’m the type of person to shy away from conflict, but the way Asa looked at me as though I was the dirt beneath his fingernails made me furious and reminded me that I’m currently trapped in an era where women are objects and never a man’s equal. They have no choice but to be subservient.

  “You can’t speak to him like that.”

  “Why? Because I’m a woman?” I challenge. “And what’s his full name?”

  “No. Because that’s not how the other Serene would speak. And his name is Asa Calhoun.”

  “And how would she have spoken?”

  “That’s the point. She wouldn’t have. She and Asa never interact,” Étienne replies.

  “After that encounter, I can’t say that I blame her.” With my arms crossed, I pace the room to stop myself from walking out of Étienne’s office, finding Asa, and whacking him over the head with one of my shoes. “Besides, it shouldn’t matter how the Old Serene reacted because I don’t want to be her one hundred percent.”

  “You will not talk to him like that again,” Étienne commands.