The Heritage Paper

Chapter 67



“So did you vote today?”

“Huh?” Flavia spacily responded to her female assistant as they stood in her Rhinebeck gallery.

Before she could answer, a bell signaled the opening of the front door. Flavia sent a paranoid look in its direction, but a stream of sun burst through on a rare, sun-drenched November day, and spotlighted the familiar man.

False alarm.

“Are you okay, Flav?” her assistant asked again.

She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t slept since Veronica Peterson and her group had shown up here yesterday. She could feel the ghosts closing in on her last night with every creak of the old house.

Flavia shook the cobwebs. “I’m sorry. Just a little distracted. No, I plan to go after we close. The polls are open until eight, right?”

The man approached her. It was FedEx Steve. Just like every day, he wore his purple and orange pullover with baseball cap and a happy-to-be-alive smile.

“I almost didn’t recognize you. You’re usually dressed a little more Flav-ulous,” he greeted her, before turning apologetic. “But that’s not to say you still don’t look great.”

She smiled at him. He wasn’t being flirtatious. He was just one of those serial complimenters. She wore a simple fall sweater and jeans, her hair was in a ponytail and she wore little make-up. Obviously, Steve didn’t notice the dark circles under her eyes.

Flavia took the package, and after trading pleasant goodbyes with Steve, she carried it into her office and shut the door. She checked the postal mark—Chappaqua, New York. She removed the mailing tape with a pair of scissors, and opened the box.

The contents of the box consisted of a key that was attached to instructions, along with a neatly typed manuscript titled My Family Tree—The Last Leaves of Evil. By Ellen Sarowitz-Peterson.

The final item was a portable video player. On it, Ellen had loaded a video in which she methodically explained everything from the beginning, filling in all the blanks.

Ever since her father’s deathbed confession, Flavia had felt as if her identity had been stolen. She had been lost. But suddenly she knew exactly who she was, and where she’d come from. She realized that the ghosts weren’t chasing her—they were protecting her.

And it was clear what she needed to do next. She had to get Ellen’s memoir to Jim Kingston before it was too late.