Page 131 of The Keeper

“Ray mentioned you visit them every year to brag about me,” I said, sipping my water.

“I do,” he admitted. “If I don’t brag about my little girl, who will?”

“Certainly not Mom,” I muttered.

“Victoria Ava,” he scolded. “I realize Helena isn’t the easiest person to deal with but she is your mother.”

I shrank in my chair. I never liked getting reprimanded by my father. Even now as an adult it made me feel like a little kid.

“I know what happened with the cottage,” he continued, folding his hands. “She told me about the contentious phone call you had with her.” He frowned. “I wish you’d both work on this rift. I know it’s not easy but how much longer can it go on?”

I clenched my fist, unable to prevent the words from pouring out. “I’ll work on it when she stops blaming me for everything.”

“She doesn’t blame you.”

“Oh no? It must have been someone else who said I caused all this and called me selfish.”

My dad shifted uncomfortably in the chair. I knew I wasn’t being fair to him. This dinner is supposed to be about us, not the awful relationship I have with my mother.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking down. “It was just really upsetting. Being at the cottage brought up so many memories. I’m sorry.”

His warm hand covered mine. “Your mother loves you, Tori. She doesn’t have a great way of showing it but she does. You are all we have.”

I didn’t know what else to say so I stayed quiet. He’s right. I am all they have.

After a few minutes I said, “I wish things could be different. I think that’s why I wanted to hold on to something that made us all happy at one point. That’s why I refused to sell Briarcliff.”

“I’m glad you didn’t agree to sell it. I’m sorry your mum was so harsh with you. That house holds different emotions for all of us. But I agree with you. It should stay in the family. That’s part of the reason why I’m here.”

My mouth popped open in surprise. I hadn’t thought about the cottage this much since coming home. Surprising, since it was the root of so much anxiety and stress when I was in England.

“Who is the man your mother mentioned?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “The one who answered your phone? Is he your boyfriend?”

Of course she mentioned him. Of fucking course.

“Oh. Uh, just someone random I met over there.”

“Do you know many random someones who offer to buy stranger’s houses?”

A dull headache pounded between my eyes. I rubbed my temples. “No. His name is Xavier. He’s a soccer player with Royal City Athletic. Do you follow the team at all?”

My dad’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Xavier Maddox? England’s goalkeeper?”

“Yeah,” I answered, slightly amused at his reaction.

“My daughter is dating England’s number one.”

“Wow. Okay. Dating is a strong word. We met randomly and spent some time together.”

Omitting the obvious didn’t mean my father all of a sudden fell off the turnip truck this afternoon. I’m thirty-five, not twelve. He can read between the lines. From the sardonic smile on his face, I figured he read the whole damn book.

“Regardless, he seemed to charm your mother after she got over the initial shock of speaking with him. She and I had several conversations over the last couple weeks and decided to transfer the cottage into your trust. Our attorneys finalized it on Monday. So,” he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, “these are yours now.”

I opened the box, knowing what I’d find inside. Nestled on tissue paper were the original brass keys to Briarcliff Cottage. The locks had been changed years ago so these barrel keys wouldn’t work in any of the doors. They were more symbolic than anything.

I pulled them out slowly, admiring the intricate design. “I haven’t seen these since I was a little girl.” Wistful thoughts from another life spread an unexpected warmth through me. I put them back in the box and looked across the table at my father. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “The cottage was always going to be yours and your sister’s. It’s time for us to stop shedding anything and everything that reminds us we were a family. We still are a family. You, me, your mother, and Charlotte. We’ve all been remembering her in our own separate bubbles for too long. She may not be with us physically but we owe her the dignity of coming together for at least this one thing to keep her memory alive.”

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