“Maybe . . . or maybe something different.”
“Alec’s family will help you get settled and introduce you to people. You won’t be all alone.”
“What about your brownstone here?” Sophie asked.
“I’m going to sell it.”
“But you just finished renovating it, and selling it makes it all seem so final,” Regan said.
Searching for any argument she could think of, Sophie rushed out, “What if you move and then realize you’ve made a mistake?”
“Then I’ll move back,” Cordie said, trying to sound cheerful even though the conversation was depressing her. What if she was making a mistake? What then? She couldn’t come back to Chicago. “I love Nick’s town house, and I love Boston. And both of you will come often, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course we will,” Regan promised. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“When is this going to happen?” Sophie asked.
“In a couple of months,” Cordie explained. “Depending on the work that needs to be done. I’m going to make a few minor changes and paint all the rooms. Maybe even refinish the hardwood floors. Nick thinks I should. I’m going to fly out next weekend and sign all the papers.”
“Are you going to stay at the Boston Hamilton?” Sophie asked.
“No, Nick and Laurant insisted I stay with them. It will be fun to see their kids.”
Cordie and Sophie knew all of Alec’s family and kept in touch with his five brothers and two sisters through Facebook. Alec’s parents, who lived on Nathan’s Bay, an island accessible by bridge north of Boston, were warm, hospitable people and always insisted that Cordie come for a visit when she was in the area. Cordie imagined she’d spend a lot of time on the island next summer.
“It’ll be okay,” she said. “I promise.”
She was doing her very best to sound enthused. She should be excited about the future, shouldn’t she? It was a brand-new beginning. Why, then, did she want to cry?
? ? ?
The next two weeks were crazy busy. Cordie flew to Boston, loaded down with presents for Nick and Laurant’s two young children, and ended up spending three nights with the family while all the papers were being prepared. She paid cash for the town house by simply transferring funds, and she didn’t feel quite as nervous about the move once she went through the house because she remembered why she loved it so much. All the wonderful architectural details gave the place a classic timelessness, which was exactly what appealed to her. By the time she left Boston she was convinced she would be happy in her new home.
Once back in Chicago she tackled the task of getting her house ready to sell. She finished going through all her father’s boxes, and when she was done, she was all the more frustrated because she couldn’t find any information about Natalie, especially since her father had been such a pack rat. He had kept all of Cordie’s grade school and high school papers and art projects in three boxes labeled Keepsakes, and she knew that if he kept every single one of her drawings and test papers, he certainly would have kept mementos of his marriage. And where were all the photos? Surely he would have kept those in a safe place, but where? Was there another safe-deposit box at the bank, or did the law firm that managed her father’s affairs have a folder with her dad’s personal items? Doubtful, but she would still ask.
Monday morning she called her father’s lawyer, Jared, at his law firm and asked him for his help locating information about Natalie Kane, formerly Natalie Smith.
Jared was happy to hear from her. “This firm didn’t start representing your father until he opened his first automotive repair shop. That being said, I’ll be happy to go through the files and see what I can find. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“No, just anything and everything having to do with her. I can’t find any photos or mementos, and I know there have to be some . . . somewhere. I thought maybe he had the firm hold on to them . . . maybe when he moved into the house from the apartment,” she said. “I’ll be surprised if you find anything, but I’d appreciate it if you would look.”
“To be honest, I can’t imagine there’s anything here. She died before your father hired the firm. Isn’t that right? And you were just a baby back then.”
Jared didn’t know the truth about her mother, but then why would he? Her father had kept the secret until his deathbed. Cordie decided she didn’t want to explain. Let him continue to think that Natalie had died years ago.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can find.”
They chatted a bit longer, and by the end of the call Jared had talked her into going to dinner with him that evening. He picked her up at seven thirty, and they drove to an Italian bistro a few blocks from her house. As they sat at a table with a red-checkered tablecloth sipping glasses of rich red wine, Cordie was relieved that Jared kept the conversation light and relaxed, but by the time the dinner was over and they were waiting for the check, Jared’s demeanor changed. He looked very serious when she told him about her upcoming move to Boston, and he cautioned her against making any more decisions in her current state of mind.
“Exactly what is my current state of mind?” she asked, trying not to take offense.
“You’re in mourning,” he reminded her. He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “Wait to put your home on the market. Don’t do anything that can’t be reversed. You could wake up one morning and realize you’ve made a mistake.”
Sophie and Regan had given her the same argument. Like Jared, they didn’t know the real reason she wanted to leave Chicago, and she wasn’t about to tell them.
“It’s sweet that you’re worrying about me, but moving to Boston is something I really want to do. I think I’ll be okay there,” she added.
“Maybe I’ll come see you in Boston.”
“I’d like that.”
She meant what she said. She really did like Jared. Although she knew he would disagree, there just wasn’t any chemistry between them now, but who knew what the future held? Could something like that grow from friendship?
Later he walked her to her door and kissed her good night. He didn’t press to come inside, and she was thankful she didn’t have to say no. As old-fashioned as it made her, she didn’t sleep around. When infatuated with one man, it was impossible to substitute another. At least for her, anyway. Once she was settled in Boston, she would be able to get Aiden out of her head, and then she would change pretty much everything else about her life. She didn’t plan to become promiscuous—that thought made her smile—just not so reserved. It was getting easier to pretend nothing had happened with Aiden. Obviously their kiss hadn’t meant anything to him, and that helped her put it all in perspective. Still, until her move to Boston, she would do her best to avoid him.
The next week was spent painting bedrooms and closets and thinning out clothes and clutter to get the house ready to put on the market. By Sunday evening all the bedrooms had been turned into showrooms that could grace any home magazine cover.
Jared called to tell her he hadn’t been able to find anything in the firm’s records relating to Natalie Kane or Smith. Cordie had known it was a long shot but was still a little disappointed.