Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)

It’s time for me to go home and make things right with my father and sisters.

Our things are packed, and my new (used) Jeep Grand Cherokee is bursting at the seams. I have been working (remotely) for Madame Scalzo since September and will continue to do so when Ava and I move to the Banks and sort out Judith’s condo. I send up my designs weekly, though I sense she’d prefer to have me in New York full-time.

Ava has cried a million tears about leaving Nana’s house, and saying good-bye to Uncle Patrick and Aunt Samantha this evening was a nightmare, but they’ve promised to come and visit with baby Jude this spring. I will miss them. I will miss them so much.

I don’t plan to stay long in Hatteras. In fact, by next summer, I want to move to New York so that Ava and I can start our new life there. But I need to take this time to reconcile with my family. I need Ava to know where her mama grew up, and though I plan to say as little as possible, I need for her to know where her parents spent one remarkable, beautiful summer together, before her mother’s beautiful dream came crashing down.

It’s time for us to say good-bye, Erik.

It’s time for me to move on now.

So here it is:

Good-bye, my Erik.

Good-bye, my love.

Laire





PART II


Post-Christmas Storm hits OBX

By Abby O’Shea

December 27—A powerful nor’easter dumped upwards of two feet of snow on the Outer Banks last night, leaving in its wake ocean overwash, ice and wind damage.

Parts of N.C. Highway 12 in Kitty Hawk were closed this morning due to standing water and debris that was pushed up from the beach at high tide.

Heavy overwash and damage to many motels and summer homes have been reported on N.C. 12 on the north end of Buxton.

Strong onshore winds also came across the area Sunday night, with the highest gust—64 mph—reported by the National Weather Service at Hatteras.

A coastal flood warning was set to expire at noon today, but winds on the backside of the storm still haven’t subsided. They are blowing in the 20 to 25 mph range, and forecasters believe they won’t taper off until Tuesday morning.

Water levels are still running 4 to 5 feet above normal on the oceanside and 3 to 4 feet for the sounds, but are expected to return to normal by Tuesday evening.

West of the sound, parts of northeastern North Carolina woke up Sunday with nearly three inches of snow on the ground.

Damage has been reported as far south as Charleston, S.C., and as far north as Cape Cod.





Chapter 17


Erik Rexford drew three résumés from the pile and tossed them into the wastebasket under his desk before looking up at his sister, Hillary, and sliding the remaining two résumés to her.

“Follow up with these two.”

She gave her brother a hard look before picking up the stapled pages. “Jacob Gilmartin and Edward Wireman.”

He nodded curtly.

“The other three were more qualified, and you know it.”

The other three are women.

He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “I like these better.”

Hillary, who had come on board as his executive assistant last year, sighed. “I am the single raft of estrogen in this sea of testosterone.”

He continued to stare at her without comment. They’d trod this ground before. Many times. He knew what was coming in three . . . two . . . one . . .

“It wouldn’t kill you to hire a woman, Erik.”

And yet . . . it might.

Erik cleared his throat, using a dismissive tone. “Follow up with those two. Anythin’ else?”

“Yes, in fact,” she said, sitting down in the guest chair across from his desk as she rested the résumés on her lap. “Fancy called a little while ago.”

“And what did our dear mother have to say? Lookin’ forward to seein’ the ball drop in Times Square?”

“Nope. Amtrak’s all messed up from the storm. They’re stranded in Boston, and it looks like they’ll be snowed in for at least three days, so they’ve decided to go skiin’ with friends in Vermont. They’ll spend New Year’s in the mountains instead.”

“Good for them.”

“Erik,” she said, her voice gentle but urgent. “She said that Utopia Manor got hit hard with the storm out on the Banks. Mr. McGillicutty called. Power’s down. Pool’s flooded. Dock got damaged. The repairs are outside of his purview. One of us needs to go out there to meet the insurance company and manage things for a few days.”

Like he could give a shit about what happened to Utopia Manor. He hadn’t been back in almost six years. He shrugged. “Fine. Take a few days off. I’m sure Pete would enjoy the trip.”