Chương 16
Julian moved into a hotel suite, then realized the symbolism was unbearable and rented a small apartment with furniture chosen by someone else. He and Eleanor began divorce proceedings. They did not speak publicly about them.
Leah received a financial settlement from Eleanor and the hotel.
It was enough to pay her legal bills, replace lost income, and rent a small storefront with a workroom in back. She named the shop Bell and Stem.
She did not use Mercer.
For the opening, Tessa ordered a sign larger than the storefront could hold. Benjamin sent a bottle of champagne that no one opened because the refrigerator was full of flowers. Diana sent the repaired display scissors from the gala, mounted in a wooden case as a joke.
Julian sent nothing.
He came in person.
He arrived ten minutes before closing, wearing a navy coat and carrying a grocery-store bundle of daffodils.
Leah looked at the flowers.
“They’re terrible,” she said.
“I chose the least terrible.”
“They’re dyed.”
“I was told that was festive.”
“They’re orange.”
“Yes.”
“Daffodils aren’t supposed to be orange.”
“I’ve made another mistake.”
She took them from him.
The shop had emptied. Tessa was in the back arguing with a supplier. Outside, buses moved through evening traffic. The front window reflected rows of plants and Julian’s uncertain posture.
Leah placed the daffodils in a chipped ceramic pitcher.
“How is the apartment?” she asked.
“The oven makes a clicking sound.”
“Is it gas?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should know that.”
“I own hotels. I’ve never owned an oven.”
“That may be the most offensive thing you’ve said.”
He smiled.
The smile resembled hers. She had noticed it weeks earlier and refused to think about it.
“I brought something else,” he said.
Her expression changed.
“No documents.”
“It isn’t.”
He removed a small velvet box from his pocket.
Inside was another pale-green brooch.
Its enamel was brighter than Leah’s, but the design was identical: three curled leaves around a pearl.
“My mother’s,” Julian said. “She kept the last one.”
Leah did not touch it.
“Why give it to me?”
“I thought you might want it.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
He considered.
“Because Claire’s was given to her for work she did. Yours came from her. This one has been sitting in a safe for thirty years because my family believed preserving things was the same as honoring them.”
Leah looked at the brooch.
“What would you do if I said no?”
“Put it back in the safe, probably.”
“That’s not much growth.”
“No.”
She closed the box and pushed it toward him.
“Keep it.”
Disappointment crossed his face before he controlled it.
“Why?”
“Because I already have one.”
She touched Claire’s brooch at her collar.
“And because you need something that belonged to a woman in your family who told the truth occasionally.”
Julian laughed.
Leah smiled despite herself.
He visited the shop every other week after that.
Not every visit went well.
Sometimes he asked too many questions. Sometimes Leah became angry at harmless things because anger was easier than admitting she had begun to expect him. Once he offered to invest in the shop and she made him leave. He returned the next day to apologize and bought a fern he clearly did not want.
Benjamin came less often.
He and Leah did not know what to call each other. Half siblings sounded clinical. Brother and sister sounded like a claim neither had earned. They settled into occasional lunches that contained more silence than conversation.
During one lunch, Benjamin admitted he had spent most of his childhood trying to prevent his parents from being disappointed in the same room.
Leah said Rosa had always been disappointed openly, which saved time.
He laughed so hard he spilled coffee.
Eleanor wrote three letters to Leah.
Leah returned the first unopened.
She read the second and did not answer.
The third contained no apology. Eleanor described Claire arriving at the Ashcroft office in a red coat, six months pregnant, refusing to sit down. She admitted she had hated Claire partly because Claire spoke to Julian without fear and partly because Julian became less careful around her.
I mistook her freedom for selfishness, Eleanor wrote. It allowed me to treat my fear as responsibility.
Leah read the sentence twice.
She replied with four words.
I received your letter.
Months passed before they met again.
The meeting happened at Claire and Rosa’s graves on the anniversary of Claire’s death. Eleanor arrived alone carrying grocery-store daffodils.
They were yellow.
“You chose better than Julian,” Leah said.
“He has always been vulnerable to salespeople.”
They placed the flowers between the stones.
Eleanor wore a plain wool coat. Without the crystal earrings and controlled rooms, she looked smaller but not gentler.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” she said.
“That’s good.”
“I wanted to tell you something about Rosa.”
Leah turned toward her.
“She came to see me after Claire died.”
“When?”
“Two weeks later.”
“Why?”
“She wanted money for your care.”
Leah’s face tightened.
Eleanor continued. “Not for herself. She had missed work and fallen behind on rent. She said she would tell Julian everything if I did not help.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
Leah stared at Rosa’s grave.
“Why wasn’t that in the archive?”
“I paid cash.”
“Of course you did.”
“Rosa took it.”
“I’m not ashamed of her.”
“I didn’t say you should be.”
“You expected me to be when you showed me the first check.”
“I was trying to make you doubt her.”
The directness still had the power to wound.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because she came back a year later and returned half.”
Leah looked at her.
“She said she had found steadier work. She kept only what she had spent on you.”
“That sounds like Rosa.”
“Yes.”
Eleanor’s voice softened.
“She told me I would eventually become the kind of person who could not sleep without explaining myself.”
“Was she right?”
“I sleep.”
May you like
Leah almost smiled.
Eleanor glanced at Claire’s stone.
