Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“All right.”
“Any word on Gregory?”
“Nothing yet.”
“What about Amelia Willow?” I look up to find Helena’s eyes on me.
“No. We’ll keep looking. She’ll turn up.”
“Thank you, Joseph. You’ve been a good friend.”
“Good luck.”
“I’ve never relied on luck.” I stand up and tuck the phone into my pocket. “Pack a bag. We’re going to Philadelphia.”
“Philadelphia?”
I walk her inside. “Not the destination I had in mind either.”
* * *
With the private jet, we arrive in Philadelphia in the early evening. By the time we drive to the house which is about forty minutes outside the city, it’s almost half past seven. The house is a huge, old, stone estate, a mansion boasting fifteen bedrooms and acres of land. I’ve only ever seen it in photographs and what I’m seeing now is vastly different from what was in those photos.
I’m surprised to find the gates open and the house lit up, cars that would make any collector envious lining the drive.
“I guess we’re lucky she’s throwing a party. I don’t imagine she’d have let us through the gate.”
“The house is huge,” Helena says. She’s sitting beside me as I park our car and kill the engine. She turns to me. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re crashing a party,” I say, opening my door and stepping to her side to help her out.
It’s a crisp fall night and Helena hugs her jacket to herself. I’m in jeans and a T-shirt. It’s what I’d had on earlier that day.
I take Helena’s hand and we walk toward the grand entrance of the house with its wide staircase leading to two oversized wooden doors. A man stands ready to open them, only momentarily eyeing our attire.
It’s a fancy party. Just what I’d expect of Lucinda.
Lucinda is easy to spot. I see her before she sees me. She’s standing on the bottom step of the grand staircase talking to a group of men and women. She’s smiling and from the way she uses her arms, I think she’s showing off the house.
I smile wide, squeeze Helena’s hand, and stalk toward her.
The crowd disperses. I only see them in my periphery because my eyes are locked on Lucinda, dressed in black from head to toe, her body too skinny, gaunt rather than slender, lending an almost witchlike quality to her. I don’t think the severe dark hair helps. Her natural is a mousy brown I remember from before.
We’re almost to them before she notices us. I’m actually shocked how long it takes her. But the moment she registers our presence, her expression shifts to one of disbelief, then something close to horror.
“Lucinda,” I say, coming to a stop a few feet from her. “If I’d known you were throwing a party, we’d have dressed for it.”
It takes her a full minute to regain her composure. Long enough that the couples around her are looking questioningly at each other.
“Excuse me,” Lucinda says, stepping through them and coming toward us. “My stepson is here. With his little girlfriend.”
She stops a few inches from me, her eyes steady on mine but then turns to Helena and touches her cheek to Helena’s in greeting.
I see her lips move and feel Helena tense, but I don’t hear what she says.
“Sebastian!” It’s Ethan. He comes around the corner looking dashing in a tuxedo, smiling wide, holding a martini in one hand.
If you didn’t know him, if you didn’t hear him talk or see him interact, you’d think he was like us. Normal.
“Ethan,” I say, feeling something different than my usual irritation.
I wonder how much of that annoyance was Lucinda’s influence all these years. She was always with him wherever he went. I don’t think that was out of motherly love either. But maybe I’m being judgmental.
“It’s good to see you, brother,” I say.
He reaches out to hug me, but stops, something like panic crossing his features when he sees Helena beside me.
He shifts his gaze from hers to mine.
“It’s okay, Ethan.” I look at him. “I know.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Not at you.”
I turn back to Lucinda. “We need to talk. Now.”
22
Helena
The house is spectacular. It makes the one on the island seem almost provincial.
But I’d happily fly back to the island than be here in Lucinda’s house. Even seeing Ethan, even though I know he isn’t responsible for what he did, it’s hard not to cringe away.
Lucinda, Sebastian and I gather in the library which spans the first and second floors. We’re on the upper level.
There are enough people here that I don’t think anyone notices that the hostess is missing.
It’s a magnificent library, but I can tell it’s unused, unloved. The scale and new-ness of it may make ours at the Willow house appear almost dusty, but I still prefer it to this one.
The seating looks brand new, too new to be comfortable, and it isn’t. It’s leather and old fashioned and masculine. I get the feeling all of this is here for show.