The Heritage Paper

Chapter 56



Veronica’s mother always told her that everything would look better in the morning. And like most of her mother’s motivational clichés, they were usually on target, even if she’d never give her the satisfaction of admitting it. But Veronica did give her mother the ultimate compliment—she taught it to her own kids.

But then one morning everything didn’t look better.

Carsten was dead.

It was a similar sun-filled morning to today. But what she would never forget was Maggie and Jamie’s faces. And as the words came out of her mouth, she felt an insidious numbness like she was the one who’d died. She had that same feeling this morning.

Veronica had surprisingly kept it together last night. She knew it was her only chance to get them back safe and sound. One of Carsten’s favorite catchphrases popped into her mind—pressure either crushes you or turns you into diamonds.

She entered Jamie’s room, checking on TJ. She looked at the small child snoring away in the miniature race car bed. It devastated her to see TJ lying where Jamie should be. They both should be snuggled in their own beds.

“TJ, sweetie, time to get up for school.”

He turned away from her and buried his head under the pillow. She was momentarily glad to know it wasn’t just her kids who refused to wake up.

She lightly shook him. “Five more minutes, Mom,” he mumbled.

“Okay, five more minutes,” Veronica replied and patted him on top of his head.

She followed an enticing smell downstairs and into the kitchen. It was starting to feel like a typical morning in the Peterson house. At least what used to be a typical morning. Zach was finishing a masterpiece of scrambled eggs and sausage. Carsten was the king of breakfast, and ever since he died the Petersons became a cereal and toast family. It was nice to have breakfast back.

Zach, who had been home to shower and change out of yesterday’s suit, looked no worse for wear after his all-nighter. He wore a blue and white striped button-down with sleeves rolled up, and khakis, looking more business casual today.

He had left a note that instructed Veronica to dress professionally for what he had planned. So she wore a turtleneck sweater with a plaid skirt just above the knee. Her cognac-colored, knee-high boots matched her leather jacket and tote bag. No concert shirts today.

Zach dished three plates of eggs and sausage, and asked, “Is he up?”

Veronica sped by him and began dishing Picasso’s “cat crack.” The furry fellow seemed to want to have a heart-to-heart about the recent lack of attention, but there was no time this morning.

“He said five more minutes.”

Zach chuckled. “He’ll five-more-minutes you until noon if he has his way.”

“He’s yet to deal with my patented Chinese Water Torture knocking method.”

“We tried water-boarding in our house—didn’t even budge.”

The small television on the counter played the local news—the election was dominating the coverage. The latest development was a follow-up to Baer’s controversial comments yesterday. A term paper had shown up on the Internet that Baer had written in college. In it, he compared Hitler to George Washington. You couldn’t make this stuff up.

Baer just finished giving a news conference where he played it off as misguided youth that had nothing to do with today’s election. He was probably right, but regardless, he’d lost almost eight points in the latest poll and was losing steam in the key swing state of Florida.

She buttered a bagel, took a swig of orange juice, and headed back upstairs to torture the hostage. But when she entered Jamie’s room, TJ was nowhere to be found.

It was a nightmare that Veronica kept reliving. She was about to scream down to Zach when she heard running water. She moved down the hall and found TJ brushing his teeth in the bathroom. She let out a sigh of relief, but thought it wouldn’t be long before she started seeing aliens.

She forced a smile at the boy, who must be wondering why the crazy lady just bolted into the bathroom, almost causing him to swallow his toothbrush.

“Oh, you’re up—good. You’re in luck, you were about to get the Chinese Water Torture knock.”

He smiled shyly. “Maggie tells me about that—she says it’s rough.”

Veronica stood proud. Her reputation had spread to the masses. But then she gulped at something else he mentioned.

Maggie.

She’s gone!

Veronica gathered herself enough to say, “Your dad made some eggs if you’re interested.”

“Cool.”

That was the deepest conversation they’d ever had. Either out of habit, or pulled by a strange force, Veronica made her way into Maggie’s room. The smell of her missing daughter turned her heart into the dirty, slushy ice on the street corner that people crunch with their winter boots. She felt like she wanted to curl up and die.

Then she heard a sound. It was coming from outside. This time it wasn’t her paranoia playing tricks. She ran to the window, but couldn’t see the driveway from that angle. She dashed back into the bathroom, again almost knocking over TJ, and opened the window. The morning temperatures were mild for November and the sun was bright.

What she saw was her Tahoe peeling out of the driveway.

Somebody was stealing her car!

When she looked closer, she realized it wasn’t just anybody. Ben Youkelstein had just hot-wired her car—could this get any stranger?

TJ was now looking over her shoulder, and appeared to be enjoying the grand theft auto.

Veronica watched as her mother ran out of her house in a terrycloth robe, balancing a cup of coffee in her hand.

“You lied to me, mother!” Veronica shouted down at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You said everything is always better in the morning.”