by Amanda Vink
Marjorie took another sip of tea, considering. She did miss traveling, and she knew she would take off soon. But with her newspaper starting, there was so much to do. Once it was all set, she could hand it over to Conrad—with her getting the final say on difficult stories, of course. She wanted to be sure that her newspaper would print the truth, regardless of who stood to gain or lose. She smiled, noncommittal.
“I’ll say, she’s too busy to miss traveling!” Uncle Charlie laughed, but they both knew at that moment he was serious. “But I’m telling you, you don’t want to stick your hands in a business for too long. Hire people you trust, and then let them do the work.”
Marjorie smiled. “For now, I’m happy to be back in Buffalo.”
The baby began to cry, and Mary moved to get him. She lifted him gently into her arms, and his neediness cooled a little.
Marjorie looked around at her family, and her heart felt full. She was so relieved they were with her and that they were all safe and healthy.
“So, all’s well that ends well,” said Uncle Charlie. “It feels like a breath of fresh air for this family.”
Epilogue
Marjorie couldn’t sleep. It was eleven o’clock in the evening, but she couldn’t get comfortable. She tossed and turned and, finally, she got up.
She put on her father’s robe and wandered down the hall to the library, where she pulled a book off the shelf—an old dusty thing that she really had no intention of reading—and settled into his chair. Despite its age, the chair held up remarkably well. She smiled, glad to finally rest her bones a little. She opened the book, and her eyes flitted from the top of the page to the bottom. At least this movement allowed her mind to rest for a moment as it focused on some menial task.
Things in Buffalo were going well as Marjorie slowly relinquished control of the newspaper. Truth be told, she had started looking around for things to occupy her time. She thought she might be ready for another adventure.
Sitting at her father’s desk, she realized she no longer felt his presence as acutely. She wiped a bittersweet tear from her eye. He was finally gone, off having his own adventures somewhere else.
“Very good,” she whispered to no one.
She must’ve been at the desk for much longer than she realized, for the sound of doorbell caught her off guard. It was still early, but morning light filtered into the room, bathing everything in its dim haze. The house sat quiet—mostly because Jenkins had actually taken her up on a vacation, much to everyone’s surprise. He had gone three hours away to Utica to visit some of his family. Without him there, the house felt—and was—empty.
The doorbell rang again. Whoever had come, they were impatient.
Marjorie stood, pulling the robe more tightly around her. She wasn’t expecting anyone. The stairs chilled her bare feet.
Beyond the door, she could see the shadow of a man, his silhouette wavering against the frosted glass. She didn’t immediately recognize the shape of him. Who is it? She considered her clothing. Whoever you are, that’ll teach you to show up at people’s houses at unreasonable hours.
After trudging to the door, she opened it wide and a cold draft drifted in, curling against her feet. Her mouth fell open, and she rubbed her eyes as though the figure before her was an apparition. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Frank stood on the doorstep. He had combed his red hair back—which made him look rather like a schoolboy. In one hand he held a bouquet of carnations and lilies. From his expression, Marjorie could tell that the man was nervous. “That’s a way of greeting a man,” he said. She wasn’t sure if he was joking or if his ego really was bruised.
She felt her face break into a smile, and slowly, his did too. He stretched the flowers out to her, and she took them. They were a splash of colors in the early light. Then she laughed, and he echoed her. “Come out of the cold,” she insisted, ushering him in, her voice rising with excitement. Standing in the foyer, he looked around briefly, taking it all in, but then his eyes settled on her again. A wider smile broke out on his features.
They embraced, and she felt his skin against hers, cold from the outdoors. Having him close again felt intoxicating. He smelled of clove soap. It lingered on her, even as she stepped away from him. “You’re in Buffalo!” she exclaimed.
A strange mixture of emotions passed through her. She had left him in Cairo without even saying goodbye. Why was he here? Wasn’t he mad at her? She knew she would be. This must’ve all passed on her face, for his own clouded over to mimic hers.
“Yes, I’m actually on official business,” he replied.
“You are?”
Frank dug in his pocket and retrieved a worn, folded envelope. His fingers must’ve been cold too because he had some trouble opening it. When he did, he reached within and pulled out a roll of film.
“What’s that?” Marjorie asked.
Frank smiled, a glint in his eye. Right then, it was clear he had her attention. Her brow knitted together and she squinted, trying to puzzle it out.
Strange. Whatever could it be? And why did he bring it himself when he could’ve just sent it by mail? Unless he wanted to see her, she reasoned. A slow warmth spread through her body—hope and happiness.
Frank placed the roll of film in her hand. Then he said, “Your next adventure.”
The End
Acknowledgments
For everything, I thank my loving and supportive family. Without their encouragement, I would never have started writing in the first place, and certainly I would not have seen any success. Mom and Dad—you’re the best.
I could not have written this book without the support of my husband Markus. Not only did he encourage me in the first place, but he provided many historical sources. A feast for the history nerd. Good thing I had the foresight to marry a professional historian! Little did he know I would take up hours of his time working out plot intricacies and asking questions. Thanks, love, for not taking the $50 and the tank of gas when it was offered.
Other individuals also deserve my thanks:
Thanks to my editor, Kristen Susienka of Kristen S. Editorial. Thank you for making this book the best that it could be—for polishing it and making Marjorie a very active protagonist. Thank you for your keen eye and friendship and conversations about writing. All the very best to you.
Thanks to my first beta reader, Shannon Hazlitt Harts, who read every early chapter enthusiastically as though it was from a polished bestseller. You gave me much-needed encouragement while I worked through “the muddy middle.”
To the memory holders—those individuals who strive to keep knowledge in the world. It is because of you that we know so much about the people who came before us, what they did, and what they left behind. To those people who came before us too.
And to you, dear reader—thank you for taking a chance on this story. Hope is one of the most important currencies of our time. May you always believe the best things can happen to you—and here’s a wish that they do.
Amanda Vink
About the Author
Amanda Vink grew up running through the woods and making up stories in her head. When she discovered one might enter an entirely new and magical world by way of books, she was hooked.
After graduating with an English degree, Amanda began working in publishing and as an actress. She believes stories help us to see that people are more alike than they are different—we all have similar hopes and fears and dreams. Thus her mission has become to help others connect with each other through empathy.
When Amanda’s not writing or reading, she can be found hiking in the forest, cooking in kitchen, and researching different mythologies and time periods.
Amanda lives in Western New York with her wonderful husband and her adventurous cat.
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