by Geneva Lee
“That’s all, I’m afraid,” he says. “Told you Christmas is pretty fast at my house.”
“That’s all?” I repeat, pretending to be confused. “I could have sworn you had something else to give me.”
He catches on quickly, and we spend the rest of the day giving each other our hearts.
* * *
Francie’s shift turns into a double and by the time she makes it home, Sterling has crashed on the couch. He doesn’t even wake up when she tosses her keys loudly on the counter. I untangle myself, eager to have a minute alone with her.
“You’re awake,” she says when I walk into the kitchen.
“I’ve been watching Christmas movies. My mom loved them,” I explain, grabbing a seat at the kitchen table. Somehow it helps me feel closer to her to remember the little traditions. The ones that didn’t involve party guests and boarding passes. I’m finding she lives on in the spirit of the holiday more than in the grand gestures.
“Sterling around?” She opens the fridge and pulls out a plastic container.
“He fell asleep during It’s a Wonderful Life.”
“You must have worn him out.”
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about our day and not anything she might have overheard last night. “I made him get a tree.”
“That will do it. Being happy always makes him tired,” she says as she presses buttons on the microwave to reheat the leftovers. “He’s not used to it.”
She does know him.
“I’m hoping to change that,” I confide in her.
“As long as you’re realistic, hon. Sometimes love makes you a better person, but it always accepts you when you’re not.” She joins me at the table. “He’s had a rough life.”
“He told me—about his parents and his sister.”
She seems surprised by this. “He doesn’t like to talk about his family. Most of what I know is from files and court appearances,” she says. “I’m glad he finally opened up about it with you.”
“I was thinking that maybe I could help him find his sister while—”
“That’s not a good idea,” she cuts me off. When my face falls, she continues on, quickly, “He went looking for her a few years ago, and he found her.”
“And?” I ask breathlessly. He’d left this part of the story out. “Was she okay? Are they in contact?”
“She wound up with a really nice family—well off, happy. It nearly broke him.”
“What? Why?” It’s exactly what he wanted for her. It’s why he took her to CPS himself.
“I don’t think he’d ever admit it, but he was hurt. Not because he wanted her to be lonely, but because she’d moved on. I don’t think he’s ever been able to do that. He was so much older than her when it happened. I think it scarred him.”
And he’d been the one to find the body, the one to feed his starving kid sister, the one who walked into a social services office to give her up.
“That boy had to grow up before parts of him were ready, and he’s angry,” she says, spearing a bite of chicken on her fork. “Not because she has a better life. He wanted that for her. Because there’s no one to forgive. His father never asked and his mama’s gone, so he just carries around all that pain from those memories, bottling it up…”
Until he can’t anymore. I’d witnessed how he could lash out. I’d seen him jump to the worst possible conclusion.
“But the real problem is that he hates pity,” Francie continues. “If he thinks you feel sorry for him, he’ll turn on you. Fast.”
“That’s why you were always hard on him,” I guess. I’d heard about her rules and expectations.
“Tough love,” she says.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admit.
“That’s my job. He might not think of me the same way, but Sterling’s my son. My job as his mama is to give him tough love. He needs something else from you.”
Suddenly, I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. “What? How do I know if I’m giving him what he needs?”
“Because it’s what you need, hon. That’s what falling in love is—give and take, acceptance and challenge, soft and hard. It’s every kind of love you’ll ever need. The right person is your family, your friend, your partner, your better and your worst. That’s why so many people get it wrong,” she says softly. “They get caught up in one kind of love and think that can carry them. Real love takes everything you have to give.”
“But it’s worth it.” I know it. I feel it. “I don’t need him to be perfect. I just need him to be mine.”
“That’s a good start.” She hesitates for a minute. “Is he happy there? At Valmont?”
“Sometimes.” I decide not to lie. “Not always. It’s different than here.”
“But he’s got you.”
“Sometimes,” I say with a laugh. “We’ve had our moments.”
“You’ll have more of them.”
“Francie.” I’m not sure how to bring up the bills. “I hope this doesn’t offend you—Sterling would kill me—but he saw the bill from school. I can help with that.”
“You’re sweet,” she says, reaching over to pat my hand. “I’ve got it covered. It just came. I put aside some of the money I got from fostering him the last few years. I always knew he was too smart not to go to college.”
“But Valmont is so expensive.”
“And his scholarship covers most of it. The rest I can handle.” She levels a serious gaze at me. “But if you want to help me out, just make sure you don’t distract him too much. He needs to keep his grades up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It’s the least I can do.
“Now, how about some Christmas cookies?” she asks. “I hid them earlier, so Sterling didn’t eat them all while I was at work.
She pulls an old tin from a cabinet over the fridge and pries open the lid. She’s just put them on the table in front of us when Sterling appears, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Did someone say cookies?”
He looks confused when we burst out laughing.
26
Adair
Present Day
When I was a child, Windfall stretched so far that I couldn’t fathom it ending. It was my entire world, but I never quite belonged. Today, bathed in the warm light of June, it looks small. Maybe it’s never been as impressive as I thought. Maybe my world is just so much larger now. I don’t know. But despite its diminished effect, a pit grows in my stomach, hollowing out my core with dread, as I drive past the gates to the main house. I can’t separate the two desires warring inside me: I want to leave, and I want to stay. I can’t do both, and I’m uncertain I’m making the right decision.
I don’t bother pulling around to the back. I have an hour before Ginny returns from dance lessons with Ellie, and Malcolm is at the office. I’d rather not drag boxes across two wings of the house and down the servant corridor. It feels strange, but somehow necessary, to pause at the front door and ring the bell. Felix answers it with record speed.
“You don’t need to knock,” he says.
“I think I do,” I say. “If for no other reason then to train myself that this isn’t home anymore.”
“How does that feel?” He steps to the side, allowing me to enter.
“Strange, but not painful.” I squint as I search for the right way to explain it. “It feels right. That’s what’s weird about it.”
He nods, an understanding smile turning up his lips. “You’ve moved on.”
“I don’t think I ever felt at home here,” I confess.
Felix pauses as if considering this, but he doesn’t dwell. “And your new place at the Eaton? How does it feel?”
“Like I live in a hotel.” I suspect it will always feel that way. I’m already considering whether I could sell it and find myself a little house somewhere near the Bluebird offices. Nothing fancy. Some place to call my own.
“It will get better.”
“I should get going. I can’t
wear things like this to work,” I say with a grin, gesturing to my linen shorts and thin tank top I’d worn to pack my belongings. “I’ll probably take some things today, pack up the rest, and arrange for someone to come and get them. Did you get my message about boxes?” As much as I want my belongings, especially my underwear, I know there’s no way I can get everything I own in the Roadster. I considered renting a truck, but given the restrictions I’ll face moving things into the Eaton, I thought better of it. I already located a local moving company and got them scheduled.
“I did, but…” Felix hesitates, a slight hitch in his voice. “There’s been a development.”
I incline my head to the side and study him. His Adam’s apple bobs nervously. It’s not like Felix to look so anxious.
“What is it?” I ask. I didn’t think the pit in my stomach could get bigger. I was wrong.
“Your things have already been packed up and moved to storage.” He shakes his head. “I tried to reach you as it was happening, but you weren’t answering your phone. After Sterling came here looking for you, Malcolm had the staff do it. By the time your message reached me, it was done. I should have told you, but I worried you might not come back to the house.”
“Are you serious?” I race up the stairs toward my rooms. I sure as hell wouldn’t have come back to this house, not if I’d known my brother tried to entirely erase me from it. I’m breathless by the time I reach my bedroom. There’s a handful of boxes, covered with a tarp, and a fresh coat of white paint on the walls. My feet won’t move. I’m stuck in the doorway, staring at what my life to this point has been reduced to: an empty room and white walls.
I’m still there when Felix reaches me. He puts an arm around my shoulder.
“I wonder which box my underwear is in,” I say dumbly. He squeezes me closer to him.
“The girls marked everything. I’ll find it,” he promises.
How could my brother do this? I’d given up everything for this family—for him and Ginny and Ellie. I’d put up with our father. I’d done everything asked of me. And the first time I took a step outside the boundaries they had given me, I’d been packed up and relegated to storage. I lurch forward, crossing to the tarp and tug it free. There’s three boxes under it, all marked: garbage. Ripping off the packing tape, I open the first box to discover stacks and stacks of battered notebooks. Stomach acid burns my throat. I don’t know what’s more sickening: that he nearly threw away my old journals or that he likely read them. I open the other two and find books and photos, even a framed picture of me with mom a few months before she died.
“What did they pack?” My voice startles me. It sounds a million miles away. I turn to Felix, holding my memories in my hands.
“They said everything.” He stares at the photographs and notebooks in horror. “If I had known…”
“I know,” I stop him. There’s no way Felix would have allowed them to toss my past aside like this if they had consulted him. I doubt any of the other household staff would, either. That can only mean one thing. “He ordered them to do it. He told them to throw this away.”
Somewhere in storage, I’ll find boxes of clothing and shoes. Things I need, but things I can replace. What Malcolm nearly took from me was priceless, and he knows it.
“Why does he hate me?” I ask Felix in a soft voice. “What did I ever do?”
“You had the courage to leave.” Felix places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. “Courage he has never had. His whole life has been following in your father’s footsteps. Even now, he’s still doing it. But you? You walked away from all of this. You struck out on your own.”
“That’s not the only reason.” I dare a look at Felix. “We both know it’s about who isn’t here any more. But how could they hate me for that?”
“Love is a tough concept for your family.”
“It’s a hard concept for me, too.” My thoughts wander to Sterling. I know what love feels like, because not a day has gone by in the last five years where I haven’t thought of him and felt it. The trouble is, like my family, I never understood what to do with those feelings.
“The trick is to find someone worth loving,” Felix tells me. “Find someone that challenges you. Find someone that makes you a better version of yourself. Someone you want to come home to and tell about your day. Someone you can talk to about everything.”
Emotion swells my throat, preventing me from speaking, and Felix sighs.
“I suppose I have no business giving anyone else relationship advice,” he admits.
“I’m no expert, but that seemed like decent advice. Maybe you should call Maria,” I say meaningfully.
Felix’s eyes droop at the mention of his ex-paramour, a schoolteacher at Beautiful Valley Elementary. They’d been on and off again for years, but he hadn’t spoken of her in months. “I’m afraid that ship sailed—off to Memphis.”
“What?”
“I waited too long,” he says. “She wanted a family, and I wasn’t ready.”
He’s lying, and I know it. Felix might have left, moved on with his life, married Maria, and lived happily ever after. Instead, he’d stuck around to see me through my mother’s death. Then Sterling left, and I went to London. “You gave your notice before I moved to England. Why didn’t you leave then?”
“Your father asked me to stay on a little while longer while he looked for a replacement. It was a reasonable request,” Felix says, “and Maria had no problem with it—until I changed my mind about leaving.”
“But why did you change your mind?” Why didn’t he leave? Why didn’t he escape? He gave up the happy ending he might have had with Maria for years of suffering abuse at my father’s hands.
“You know why,” he whispers. “I couldn’t bear making you come back here alone to face your family.” He’s never admitted to me what we both knew. I was the reason Felix stayed. He stayed for me and Ellie and Ginny and Malcolm—and where had that gotten him?
“You shouldn’t have.”
The corner of his mouth crooks. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
And now he’s stuck here, nailed in place by my father’s final edict naming Felix as the trustee of Windfall until Ellie was old enough to inherit it. “They’re going to be terrible to you.”
“I don’t do it for them.”
“Thank you.” There’s nothing else I can give him for the sacrifices he has made.
“Let’s get these to your car,” he suggests.
I take one box and Felix takes two. We’re halfway down the main stairs when Malcolm bursts through the front door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands.
“Taking my things.” I force myself to keep going, but as soon as I hit the landing, he steps in front of me.
“You did not ask to enter this house.”
“She doesn’t need to ask,” Felix says, his tone rich with warning. It’s not like him to go toe-to-toe with my brother. But now that he’s been placed in charge of Ellie’s inheritance, Malcolm can’t fire him.
“She doesn’t own this house,” Malcolm says, trying to take the box from my hands. “Or anything in it.”
“Neither do you.” I swing the box to the side and move around him.
“Your problem is with me,” Felix says, attempting to redirect my brother’s fury.
It works. Malcolm turns on him. “I can’t believe you let her in here after I gave you express instructions not to.”
“Wait.” I pause, placing the box on the entry table before I lose it and hurl it his direction. “You ordered him to keep me out?”
“I may not own this house,” Malcolm sneers, “but neither do you. My daughter does.”
“Your daughter?” I repeat, something dangerous taking hold of me. “Maybe I should ask her if I can come in. It’s just like you to drag Ellie into this. Leave her out of our problems. Felix is her trustee. He can decide who’s welcome here.”
“For now,” he says, throwing a c
austic look in Felix’s direction.
My heart beats like a war drum, warning me something terrible is coming my way. “What does that mean?”
“I filed a petition with the courts to replace Felix as the trustee of Ellie’s estate. I doubt they’ll take issue with a father protecting his child’s interests.”
I feel his words as acutely as if he’d actually fired the first shot. I point a finger at him, my hand shaking with a rage I’ve never experienced. “You’ve never looked out for her interests. Not since the day she came home. You thought a baby would secure your inheritance, and when she took it from you instead—”
“Don’t make me the villain, Adair,” he stops me. “Don’t pretend you care more about her than I do. You left this house.”
“I will never let you take her birthright from her,” I seethe. “I didn’t give up my inheritance—”
“No, you didn’t,” he cuts me off. “He took it from you—and you deserved it!”
His words bounce off me. I’ve had years to come to grips with that reality. “Why do you even care about the house? Leave it in her name. Live here. Felix isn’t kicking you out.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It isn’t?” I challenge him. “What if I decide it is? What if I decide to contest the inheritance, too?”
“You wouldn’t.” He takes one menacing step in my direction.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” I say.
“Because this morning I leveraged the pittance our father left us to take back a significant control in this company. The only way to see the deal through is to sell Windfall.”
There’s a gasp from behind me, and I whirl around to see Ginny standing at the door, clutching Ellie’s hand. She drags her daughter, still dressed in tights and leotard, toward us. “You didn’t!”
“And lose the chance to take back what my family built?” Malcolm roars.
“But how?” Ginny stammers, shrinking a bit under his ferocious gaze. Ellie clings to her side, but her eyes are on me.