Page 2 of One Last Secret

“Steerage?”

“Economy class. They called it steerage on the old transatlantic ocean liners.”

“Why doyoucall it steerage?”

He shrugs. “I like the word better.”

I smile slightly at him. He's among the most frustrating men I've ever met, but I must admit he's also one of the most adorable. "I was actually thinking that I should have spent more money and purchased business-class tickets."

He chuckles. “For a woman so concerned with comfort, you sure have a knack for getting yourself into uncomfortable positions.”

My smile fades. “I thought we agreed not to argue.”

“Right. My apologies.”

We fall silent for a while as the rest of the plane fills up. I watch them board: harried parents leading exuberant young children, stressed businesspeople whose thoughts are already on their next meeting, old people with the sage smiles of contentment that most elderly people find when they near the end of their lives and realize that very few things truly matter as much as they thought they did when they were younger.

All of them are living people with thoughts hopes, and dreams that matter. All of whom deserve to live their lives—whatever they might be—to the fullest. None of whom deserve to have those lives cut short due to the selfishness of another.

“Have you learned anything new?” I ask Sean.

“Nothing more than I told you the last time,” he says. “A woman matching Annie’s description was seen in Monterey shortly after disappearing from Boston thirty years ago. She stayed at the Bayside Hotel for a few months, then disappeared again. No one knows what she did after that.”

“Your contact. How did he know her?”

“He used to run the hotel. Sold it six years ago. The developer planned to convert the units into condominiums. The company folded a year later, and the building was left abandoned.”

“When we arrive, I’d like you to examine it.”

He looks at me. “First of all, I won’t find evidence of a woman who stayed thirty years past in a building abandoned five years ago. Second of all, even if I could, the demolition process began yesterday, so it’ll be rubble before I have a chance to get in.”

“One might say that there was no need to make the first point,” I reply drily. “In that case, I’d like you to talk to your contact again.”

"I would, but he's gone on, I'm afraid. I called him yesterday, and his granddaughter answered."

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs. “He was ninety-seven years old and died a millionaire. He lived a full and a good life.” He turns to me with an expression that looks altogether too close to contempt. “Sorry. No mystery there.”

I turn full on him, and his contempt turns to consternation. “If you’d like to say something, perhaps you should say it clearly and stop hinting at it.”

Rather than hastily apologizing as I expect, he holds my gaze. “Everything I have to say I’ve told you before. I can’t stop you from doing what you’ve already decided to do.” His face softens. “But please be careful. You’ve been lucky so far. Your luck’s bound to run out eventually.”

“Annie’s luck has already run out,” I reply tersely.

The flight attendant begins the safety announcement, forestalling any response he might have. I keep my eyes firmly on the flight attendant during the demonstration. He’s a tall, well-built young man with a charming smile. At my age, thoughts of romance are purely academic, but they’re fun to indulge in on occasion and far more palatable than my irritation with Sean.

My lips burn as I remember the kiss we shared when he rescued me from Sophie Lacroix, the housekeeper who murdered my former employer and tried to murder me when I learned the truth. It’s the impulsive act of a woman who’s just escaped death, but it lingers in my mind far more pleasantly than I care to admit.

“What do you know of your new employers?” he asks.

I welcome the interruption from those thoughts and reply, “His name is Victor Holloway. He’s an artist of some renown, I understand. I am to care for his daughter, Celeste.”

When I learned that my sister went missing in Monterey, I looked for employment. I don’t need to work, since the money my father leaves me is managed well, but I couldn’t sit around and do nothing, so I looked through advertisements for governess positions in the area. Victor’s was the only one in the city itself, so I applied and was promptly hired.

I feel a touch of guilt. I tell myself that it’s better to allow Sean to do most of the digging when it comes to my sister’s disappearance, but a part of me wonders if it’s simply a reflexive action. It’s been suggested to me by others that I don’t truly wantto know what happened to Annie. My guilt drives me to find her, but my fear drags out the process as much as it can.

You feel guilty for what you did to Annie.

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