“There are only four people in our circle who know the will requires you to marry—Ellie and John, my father, and because he knows, my mother. It’s not something others need to know. My family and friends will simply assume we’re marrying because we love each other. I’ll handle any awkward situations that develop, smoothly get us out of them. That will be my job.”
Her hand settled flat against his chest. “You’re putting your family at risk.”
“I’m not going to live my life in fear of what might happen. We’re smart enough to take sensible precautions.” He nudged up her chin so she would look at him rather than the button on his shirt, saw the wariness in her eyes. “It’s okay to say yes.”
“I’m too scared to say yes.”
He tightened his hug just a fraction to acknowledge the soft words and then answered her fears by relaxing his hold and letting her step back. “Then maybe you should think about why you’re scared and let us deal with that.”
“Are you going to tell your family I’m Ruth Bazoni?”
He’d known the question was coming. He took his time on the answer. “My parents already know. I told my dad, he told my mom, and I had a long conversation with my mom a few days ago. She remembers you, Charlotte. Mrs. B, from your fifth grade class. The rest of the family will be your decision for if and when we tell them.”
“Mrs. B?” She looked startled at the news. “I hadn’t realized. It was your mom who encouraged me to draw. She used to put a smiley face on my papers when I turned in one where I had doodled in the margins.”
Bryce smiled. “That sounds like Mom.”
“When your family meets my sister, they’ll immediately put it together.”
“That day’s going to come when it does. But by then, they will know you as Charlotte. They’ll hurt for you, but they won’t see you as Ruth. And for the most part, they’ll forget, because it’s in the past.”
“I don’t want people to know for as long as possible.”
“Agreed. Would you want us to fly to New York and talk to your sister about this decision?”
“No. She’ll try to talk me out of it. And I would let her. It’s a conversation that has to come after the wedding.”
“I won’t let you have that conversation alone,” he promised.
She picked up her sketchbook but didn’t start drawing again. “Will you regret marrying me, thirty years from now when the money is gone?”
“No. When the money is gone, we’ll be just like every other couple who’s been married for thirty years. Older and wiser and good friends. The thirty years after that will be the easy years of the marriage.”
“You’re more optimistic about this than I am.”
He studied her face. Jesus, what are the right words here? I can hear her doubts, see them, and I know fear is the emotion she’s feeling. I don’t think anything can remove that other than the experience of a good marriage.
“Charlotte, please trust me,” he finally said, trying to figure out how to sum up the conversation. “This will work. If I didn’t believe that, I’d be wise enough to say so. I don’t want fifty years of chaos for my life or for yours. I’m not asking you to marry me because of the money, while ignoring the rest of what would be our reality. I think we could have a good marriage if you want to say yes. That’s what I’m asking you to consider. I like the idea of being your husband. If you want to say yes to the money, I’m a safe choice. We would have a good life together.”
Charlotte unlocked the door to Ellie’s home, glad to have the difficult conversation behind her.
Ellie came to meet her. “You had a long evening.”
“An anything but a simple discussion.”
Ellie studied her face, started to smile. “It went well. You’re actually thinking about saying yes.”
“We squared the corners of the idea and talked about what it would look like. My mind is spinning.” Charlotte walked into the living room, picked up the pillows on the extra deep sofa and sank into it, hugging the cushions against her.
Ellie took a seat beside her. “How’s your heart?”
“Troubled. I’m not an arranged-marriage kind of woman, and that’s what I’m talking about having.”
“You’d run scared to death if he said ‘I love you.’”
She half smiled, acknowledging it was true. “I can maybe do the friendship he wants, Ellie, but he’s a businessman. He’s not an easy man to sync up with. John, I could pretty much always understand. Bryce—he’ll do a fine job with the money, and he’ll be a good husband because he’ll measure himself against that phrase, but it feels—” she stopped because it hurt to say it aloud—“it feels like he’s taking me on as a job.”
“He doesn’t mean to leave that impression.”
“But it’s the truth of what is developing. He gets a wife who’s more like a houseguest than a wife, and a job of giving away the money. It isn’t worth this, Ellie.”
“Is being single any better? Honestly?”
Charlotte bit her lip. “No, it’s not great.”
“I’m not saying marry him. Just consider the picture of it. There are parts of not being alone that would make your life much better than it is today. What’s the downside?”
“Fifty years of disappointing him.”
“If he treated you like he does now for the next fifty years, would you be okay with the marriage?”
Charlotte didn’t answer for a long time. “Yes.”
“There’s also risk if you say no. You overworked in Texas, to the point John and I both worried about you. You were too alone in your day-to-day. I worry about you slipping back into that mode. The work that never ends. The sadness of saying no is going to be heavy. You’d be giving up not only the money, but a different life. One that I think could be better for you.”
“Do you really think this is a good idea?”
“How many times have you wished life had taken a different turn when you were sixteen?”
“Too many times to count.”
“Take this turn, Charlotte. He’s a nice man—in every way I can see—and you won’t be alone anymore. You don’t have to tell him about the past, you don’t have to even mention it. You can relax and just enjoy spending your present life with someone.”
“He referred to Mrs. B, and it clicked, the image of his mom. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I liked the idea of it being a good surprise you could encounter. He’s got a good family. You’ll like all of them. More than anything I want you to be settled for the next decades of your life. You’ll fit in, you’ll have a place, and he’s the kind of guy you can trust. His kind doesn’t come around very often.”
“The money is prompting his offer.”
“Is it? I think the offer is prompted by the fact he wants you to have a real choice. He likes you, Charlotte. He doesn’t like the situation you’re in. He’s being just a bit of a white knight, trying to rescue you by offering to give you a choice. I think it says something nice about him.”
“He mentioned that his proposal and the money didn’t have to stay linked, that there wasn’t a reason he couldn’t ask me again after three years . . . which would take the money issue away. I don’t think he meant it as a serious idea to explore, but it was part of his original comments about this.”
“I think if you wanted to get married without the money, Charlotte, he’d be interested in having that conversation with you.” Ellie searched her face. “But I also believe he feels that however it has happened, that money is yours, and he can help you with it.”
“He could handle the money and do it well. Not many people I’ve met could do that.”
Ellie nodded. “I see the money, the giving it away, as something the two of you can work on together, the common ground you might need during the first few years of marriage. It will be a safe topic if you don’t know what else to talk about.” Ellie reached over to squeeze her hand. “Charlotte, what do you really lose if you say yes? If you can answer
that question, maybe the decision will become more clear.”
Charlotte ceased talking about it. Bryce expected the occasional comment or question, but neither came.
He put his focus on the remaining work to be done on the vaults and selling the coins. He expanded the prep room and doubled the coin shipments. He finished clearing vault nineteen and opened vault twenty-two. Whatever Charlotte decided, yes or no, it would be useful for the coins to no longer be a matter to deal with after the will’s deadline.
Charlotte, emptying more storage units, found the model trains mentioned in the old logbook. The break room in the administration building soon filled with guys during their off-hours, helping their sons build an elaborate track so a dozen antique model trains could roar around the detailed display. Charlotte named engine nine the Graham Express and could be found at odd hours racing it around the intricate track.
Bryce had a lot of time to think, and he began to understand the problem. The more he thought about what could be done with the money, laying out tentative plans of how it could fund projects around the world, the more apparent how life-altering it could be. He wanted the opportunity, the challenge, and the satisfaction of managing the funds, and he equally understood why she would be inclined to say no. Her current life had a known quantity to it that was very attractive in light of her past.
Their dinners became more sporadic as the weather turned from the brisk cool of fall into the full-on cold of winter with snow coating the roads between Chicago and Wisconsin. In some ways he was grateful, for the decision had to be one Charlotte could live with for the rest of her life, and it needed to be her decision. He worried about pressuring her decision even with good intentions. The money side of this mattered to him, more than he was comfortable admitting. He wanted a life that wasn’t boring, and spending the next decades managing where to give a fortune was a solution. If she said no, he didn’t know where he’d find something else as interesting and fulfilling for his future. He needed time to let go of that motivation.
He believed in a sovereign God. The fact the money had been left to Charlotte had been God’s plan for her. That he wished it had been left to him . . . he imagined anyone hearing about it might wish the same thing. God, in His wisdom, had determined the money would go to Charlotte. Bryce wondered what God was teaching her, or asking of her, by doing so. For Charlotte wasn’t reaching for wealth for herself.
As time passed, that reality became yet another fact Bryce deeply admired about the woman. She had the capacity to turn down enormous wealth. He couldn’t yet say the same for himself.
TWENTY
Paul Falcon joined his wife in their home office on a Saturday afternoon before Christmas, unwrapping a candy cane. Their tree was decorated and lit, and Christmas music was playing in the background. He’d taken over the dining room table to finish wrapping his share of the gifts they would be distributing. He wasn’t surprised to find Ann, headphones in place, working on the Conner case. Her gift wrapping had been complete for several weeks.
He picked up the list of names she was annotating. She was back on the core problem—identifying the voice of the Dublin Pub caller who said baby Connor had died.
His wife pushed off her headphones. “The audio guys have been through the last of the old physical tapes found in evidence. They’ve confirmed none of the men the cops questioned and recorded in a formal interview is a voice match to the caller. It shrinks the list quite a bit. But I noticed something today. Does our caller sound drunk to you, or like he had been drinking heavily?” She handed him the audio headphones and cued the call to replay.
Paul listened carefully. “No.”
“Agreed. I’m not catching even a slight hesitation in his speech. I noticed something related and interesting in the list of names. Lynel Masters. He was at the Dublin Pub that night because the bartender called him to pick up his sister, who’d had too much to drink. I wonder who else was there that night to pick up someone, meet someone—not there to drink or stay, but just stopping in. I wish the cops had thought to collect the names of the women who were at the Dublin Pub that night. Women watch guys, remember them, and they could have been a good source to tell us if this list of names we have is complete. Maybe someone didn’t stay but a minute—just long enough to make a call.”
“A good observation. I wish we could have worked that idea at the time,” Paul agreed. “We can track down Lynel’s sister. And a few of the guys named on the list were at the pub with their wives. Maybe their wives can look at the list and tell us who should have been on it given who was there. Friends of friends kind of connections.”
“It’s worth a try.” Ann looked at the page in her hand. “Either our caller is on this list of those at the pub that night, or he was there and his name didn’t make the list because no one thought to mention him. I’m beginning to think no one thought to mention him.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky this afternoon and add a new name,” Paul said. There was too much snow on the ground today to walk around Meadow Park knocking on doors, but there were two holiday parties this afternoon they planned to attend, one at the community center and the other at a church, where neighbors were gathering and a few questions could be asked. Extended families would also be home for the holidays, and it would be a good chance to connect with people they otherwise would be unable to see.
Ann stuffed her working files into her flight bag to take with them.
Paul leaned down to rub the dog’s back. “Which one of us is going to break the news to Black that he’s not going with us today?”
Ann looked down at the dog. Looked up at him. “If I say pretty please, will you explain it to him?”
“Maybe we can put antlers on him and smuggle him in as a reindeer in disguise.”
Ann laughed. “I’ll call Kate and see if Black can visit. Holly will enjoy climbing all over him, and Black can go outside and sit on a snowdrift and play king of the mountain.”
“That works.” Paul settled his arm around his wife. “I like Christmas.”
“It’s the cookies. And the music. And the candy canes—those were for the kids.”
“I used to be one.” He dropped a kiss on her hair. “I’ll add the dress you’ve got set out to wear on Christmas Eve.”
Ann smiled. “I’m planning to turn your head. Your presents are wrapped?”
“All but the one for you-know-who. He would eat the wrapping paper to get to it, so it’s left in the pantry.”
“We’ll cheat and let him open his first gift tonight.”
Paul grinned. “I’m all for spoiling him. Call Kate while I get us our coats.”
“You’ve been in a pensive mood tonight, son.”
Bryce turned from the window where he’d been watching the snow fall. “Just wondering if this is my last Christmas alone.” The family gathering would pack more than twenty people into his parents’ home, but it didn’t change the fact Bryce would come alone and would leave alone. “I’m hoping it is.”
“I’m growing more comfortable with the idea myself. You’d be a good husband for her, Bryce. I hope she accepts. Charlotte could use a family like ours around her.”
Bryce would have invited her to the gathering tonight, but she had gone with Ellie to Texas for the holidays, along with John. She was at least out of reach of this snow. “You’ll like her, Dad.”
“It says something about her character that she isn’t reaching for the money.”
“It does.” Bryce rubbed the back of his neck. “And it’s a lot.”
“I don’t want to know the amount. You’re nervous, that’s enough to tell me it’s large. But I know God has prepared you for handling even large amounts wisely.”
“If she says yes, she’ll want to give it away. She’s already decided on that.”
“A generous thing to do, and one you’ll both enjoy. You’re bothered by the delay in her decision?”
Bryce shrugged rather than admit he was. “She’s got a very difficult
choice before her. I would be a good husband, but she’s got to accept being married. She’s not inclined toward saying yes.”
His dad smiled. “It’s okay to admit there’s a bit of pride on the line. You asked the woman to marry you. It’s going to sting if she says no.”
“More than I’m comfortable admitting.” He could close his eyes, see himself married to Charlotte, and see something interesting. He liked the idea of being her husband. He liked the challenge of what life would be with her. He wanted to show her what it was like to relax and share her life with a guy day-to-day. He wanted to give her back some of the carefree days she’d missed during her teens and twenties. And wasn’t that an interesting Christmas wish? “I’m just dreaming a bit, Dad, and hoping.”
“Christmas is a good time for that kind of hope. You asked her in order to give her a choice. She has one now. It will be good if she says yes, and you’ll survive if she says no. Now come help me with the tree. Your mom wants to bring out the last of her twelve days of Christmas ornaments tonight.”
Bryce complied with a smile. He liked Christmas with his family and thought Charlotte would enjoy being part of this next year, should she say yes. He wanted a chance to share this with her.
TWENTY-ONE
The movie on TV had half Charlotte’s attention; the rest was on the sketch coming to life. Butterflies were some of the most interesting creatures to draw—and some of the hardest to get the perspectives right. No two butterflies in the sketch were on the same plane, and their wings were tipped at different angles, some facing her, some nearly edge on, some in three-quarter profile as they hovered or sat on flowers. She loved Christmas but was equally glad the holidays were now past and a new year was unfolding. She was anticipating winter being gone and spring arriving.
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