We listen to it, the tinkle and wash as the tides creep up to the sand and then slide back as if pulled by an invisible hand. “It’s beautiful,” I admit.
A low moan slips from Callum’s throat. In one hand, he clutches his usual glass of whiskey, but in the other, gripped so tight his knuckles are white, he holds a picture of a dark-haired woman with eyes so bright it’s like sun shining from the frame.
“Is that Maria?” I gesture to the frame.
He swallows and nods. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
I nod back.
Callum tips his head and empties the glass in one swift gulp. He barely sets the glass down before reaching for a refill. “Maria was the glue that held our family together. Atlantic Aviation hit a bad patch about ten years ago. A series of reckless decisions coupled with the recession placed my sons’ legacy in jeopardy, and I threw myself into saving it, which took me away from the family. I missed seeing Maria. She always wanted a daughter, you know?”
I can only nod again. It’s kind of hard to follow along this weird disjointed speech. I have no idea where he’s going with all of this.
“She would have loved you. She would have taken you from Steve and raised you as her own. She wanted a girl so badly.”
I sit still as a stone. None of this sad story can be leading anywhere good.
“My sons blame me for her death,” he says suddenly, startling me with the unexpected confession. “They’re right to do so. Which is why I let them get away with all kinds of shit. Oh, I know all about their little rebellions, but I can’t bring myself to raise a harsh word. I’m trying to pull the threads together now, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a mess. And I’ve made a mess of this family.” He draws a shaky hand through his hair, still managing to hold his glass, almost like the crystal object is the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.
“I’m sorry,” is all I can think to say.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this.”
“A little.”
He gives me a crooked, rough smile that reminds me so much of Reed that my insides flip over.
“Dinah wants to meet you.”
“Who’s Dinah?”
“Steve’s widow.”
My pulse speeds up. “Oh.”
“I’ve been putting her off because you just got here, and, well, I wanted you to come to me about Steve. She and Steve toward the end there…” He trails off. “It wasn’t good.”
My guard snaps up. “I get the feeling that I’m not going to like whatever you’re about to say.”
“You’re pretty perceptive.” He hastily finishes off his second glass. “She’s demanding you come alone.”
So I’m supposed to meet my dead dad’s wife, who Callum dislikes so much that he’s mainlining whiskey, without anyone at my back?
I sigh. “When I said my day could be worse, it wasn’t meant as a challenge.”
He snorts at this. “Dinah reminded me that my connection to you is more tenuous than hers. She’s your father’s widow. I’m just his friend and business partner.”
A chill skates across my skin. “Are you saying that your guardianship isn’t legit?”
“It’s temporary until Steve’s will has been probated,” he admits. “Dinah could contest it.”
I can’t sit. I jump up and walk to the edge of the room, staring out at the water. I suddenly feel so stupid. I let myself believe I could make a home here even though Reed hates me, even though the students at Astor Park delight in tormenting me. Those things are supposed to be temporary nuisances. Callum has promised me a future, dammit. And now he’s telling me this Dinah woman can take that future away?
“If I don’t go,” I say slowly, “then she’ll start making trouble, won’t she?”
“That’s a fair assessment.”
Mind made up, I turn back to Callum. “Then what are we waiting for?”
* * *
Durand takes us into the city and stops in front of a high-rise. Callum tells me he’s going to wait for me in the car, which only makes me more nervous.
“This sucks,” I say flatly.
He reaches out to touch my arm. “You don’t have to go.”
“What other choice do I have? I can either go up and keep living with the Royals, or stay in the car and get taken away? That’s messed up.”
“Ella,” he calls as I step onto the curb.
“What?”
“Steve wanted you. When he found out he had a daughter, it tore him up. I swear to you, he would have loved you. Remember that. No matter what Dinah says.”
With those not-so-encouraging words in my ear, I let Durand escort me inside. The lobby of Dinah’s building is gorgeous, but the effect of the pretty stone walls, crystal lights, and deep wood trim doesn’t stun me like it would have pre-Royals.
“She’s here to see Dinah O’Halloran,” Durand tells the desk clerk.
“You can go right up.”
Durand gives me a little push. “Last elevator. Press “P” for penthouse.”
The carpeted, wood-paneled elevator is almost completely silent. There’s no music, only a slight mechanical whir to accompany its movement upward. It stops way too soon.