Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“I don’t like it either,” Hope said. “I’d rather imagine her neglectful and thoughtless than the alternative.” She shuddered.
“Me too,” Paige whispered. “Especially for my father. My mother was a miserable person, and I was just an idea. I could see being in love”—her eyes flicked to me, then back to Hope—“and losing his head. But to never show up again? That’s pretty crappy. I’d still rather he was a bad father and a selfish husband than…” She fell silent, clearly not wanting to put the other option into words.
None of us wanted to think that. I was firmly on her team. I’d much rather imagine my mother enjoying life somewhere—careless, selfish, gone. But alive.
“Look,” Griffen said, “we’re not going to get any answers on this today.”
“It feels like the more people we talk to, the more questions we have,” I said.
“Agreed,” Griffen said. “For now, let’s just enjoy Sunday dinner. Maybe tomorrow, Cooper’s people will have dug something up on Paul Williams. Without that, I’m not sure where we look next.”
“I—” Paige started to say, then stopped.
“What are you thinking?” Hope asked, leaning into Griffen’s side, her arm around his waist.
Paige shook her head. “I’m not ready to say,” she said, swirling her finger in the air. “I need to let things percolate a little more. I might have an idea, but it might be nothing at all.” She looked up to me. “I’m up for just enjoying Sunday dinner and worrying about the rest of this tomorrow.”
So that was what we did. As we’d been reminded since I’d found those letters in Paige’s drawer, Sarah and Paul had been missing for over thirty years. Another day, another week, another month wouldn’t make much of a difference. Our impatience to solve the mystery didn’t change a thing, especially since it didn’t seem like there was that much to find.
Sunday dinner was more family-style and less formal than usual, right down to the meal. Finn had made big pans of lasagna, bruschetta on fresh-baked bread, and crisp Caesar salad. With the kids in the dining room with us, the atmosphere was light and loud. Everyone lingered after the meal. Miss Martha—and to my surprise, Uncle Edgar—talked the kids into a board game, roping in Tenn and Scarlett. Hope and Griffen disappeared with Stella, and Paige and I took advantage of her evening off to hide away in my room.
It was less cozy than Paige’s. To be honest, if invited, I would have ditched my room in favor of moving in with her. But given that we were just across the hall and had only been together a short time, maybe that was jumping the gun. It didn’t feel like it. The idea of spending a night apart from Paige was intolerable. I’d never felt like this with a woman before—not just attracted to her, but as if she was necessary. When I could see her, touch her, even if just to hold her hand, everything was brighter and more alive.
“Are you going to do anything with this room?” she asked as I shut the door behind me.
I looked around, reminded again how much more welcoming her space was—not just because of the furniture, rugs, and artwork Savannah had hung, but the way Paige had settled in and made it her own. In contrast, I had a beat-up wooden desk with a chair, a full-size bed without a head or footboard, and an old couch. Yeah, Savannah definitely hadn’t been happy I was coming back to Heartstone Manor.
I understood. While I’d never been a jerk to her or Miss Martha, I hadn’t been particularly friendly either, treating Savannah like the daughter of the help when I was younger. Savannah, like almost everyone else, had been loyal to Griffen. I’d hurt a lot of people when I’d gotten him exiled. At the time, I hadn’t understood the ripple I’d create. In my head, I’d thought all of it would be temporary. Griffen shoved out so I could have a little of our father’s attention for a while, so I could be number one. And then, somewhere in my immaturity and inexperience, I thought things would just mend themselves. Griffen would come back, and everything would work out. Somehow, I thought I’d still be top dog and Griffen would be second to me.
None of it had happened the way I’d imagined, because I’d been a tool, the great Prentice Sawyer manipulating me for his own ends like he did with everyone else.
“I don’t know if I’ll fix up my room,” I said to Paige, pushing away the reminder of all the things I’d fucked up. “I guess it just feels—” I shrugged. “Temporary. I wasn’t living here when I was arrested for shooting Prentice. I’d moved into a suite at the Inn.”
“Heartstone wasn’t big enough for the two of you to share?” she asked, her voice heavy with humor.