The Heritage Paper

Chapter 86



Rush hour was the culprit in what turned out to be a two-hour journey from Manhattan to Pleasantville.

Veronica phoned in an order from Pleasantville Pizza on the way. Coffee for breakfast, hospital cafeteria for lunch, and a pizza dinner wasn’t exactly the diet of champions, but at least it now looked like they might live long enough to develop diet-related, long-term health issues. And that was good news.

They ate with Veronica’s mother, who actually agreed that it was a good idea to hide out for a few days at the farm in Rhinebeck. Her prisoner for the day, TJ, also joined them for dinner, as his father would be off breaking the story of the century for the next few days.

Once the kids were ushered off to pack for the trip, Veronica gave her mother all the details. Except for a small omission concerning the identity of Maggie and Jamie’s great-great-grandfather. She also softened the blow on Eddie—sticking to the ‘dying a hero’ story.

Veronica couldn’t believe that Eddie was gone. But she couldn’t find tears right now for him. Like with Ellen, Veronica needed to sort out her feelings, but he did keep his promise—he kept her kids safe.

Veronica traded in her sweater and skirt for NYU sweatshirt and jeans. Jamie changed into a colorful flannel shirt and cargo pants that made him look like he came off the cover of a fall catalog. Maggie was back to her all black ensemble that she wore with her usual ponytail. The images of normalcy.

Veronica gathered children and toothbrushes, and then they were off, heading upstate in Zach’s Audi. She clicked on 1010 WINS, the all-news station, as they knifed through the darkness of the Taconic Parkway.

Bad decision.

There was just no avoiding their current reality. The newscaster grimly reported the death of Jim Kingston. He was found in a Manhattan apartment building owned by Aligor Sterling, dead of an apparent suicide.

Talk about a reversal of fortune. One minute he was elected leader of the free world, and twenty-four hours later he was in a bunker taking his life, just like his great-grandfather—at least according to the history books. Whatever the details of either death, Veronica couldn’t deny the trail of destruction that was handed down from generation to generation. She did the math. Kingston’s death left three members remaining in the bloodline.

Veronica switched off the radio, and drove the rest of the way to the soothing sound of silence. They arrived at Flavia’s around ten. Maggie and Jamie had been sleeping since they hit the Taconic, but awoke as soon as they hit the gravel of Flavia’s driveway. Veronica parked the Audi behind Flavia’s Jeep and they moved to the front door, carrying their overnight bags.

To Veronica’s surprise, the door was open. “Hello,” she shouted upon entering.

A note was left for them in the kitchen. Flavia had gone into town to check on something at her art gallery and would return shortly. It instructed them to put their items in the guest bedroom and make themselves at home.

The sleepy children dropped their bags in the kitchen and looked like their last fumes of energy were finally zapped. Pretty understandable—not their usual con jobs to get Mom to do all the heavy lifting for them. Veronica grabbed their bags and carried them into the guest room.

She heard the door slam behind her.

She turned and attempted to open it. It was jammed. She jarred it a few more times. It wouldn’t budge. She had underestimated them once again.

“Maggie! Jamie! This isn’t funny.”

She heard Maggie scream and her heart jumped. Footsteps headed toward the door. Along with a rhythmic tapping she recognized.

She pounded on the door, “Let me out of here!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that, Veronica,” a man’s voice said.