Page 139 of What's Left of Us

Swallowing, I stare down at the money that feels dirty somehow. I force out a, “Thank you” with a smile that wavers unconvincingly.

Stefan Mangino gives me a once-over, but unlike when most men do it, it doesn’t feel slimy. He’s looking at me with nostalgia in his eyes.

“So much like your mother,” he says, the words uncharacteristically soft compared to his otherwise hardenedfeatures. Grabbing the candy bar, he tucks it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pats it once. “It was lovely seeing you again, Georgia. I do hope we avoid repeating history again.”

As he turns and pushes the door open, he pauses after the bell chimes again. “And while you’re delivering messages, perhaps tell your husband that it’s best he stop burying his nose where it doesn’t belong, or it will end badly. I rather like working with law enforcement, so I’d hate to impact that relationship by doing something drastic.”

My eyes widen. I’ve never heard of this man in my life, but he knows plenty about me. Too much.

He doesn’t need me to say anything before dipping his chin once and leaving Turning Pages. The black car he gets into the back of has tinted windows that are too dark to see who’s driving. It drives away within seconds, disappearing when I walk over to the storefront window to try catching a license plate.

When I look down at the money left on the counter, I swallow at the crisp paper resting there like a silent taunt.

Then I glance at my car keys and make a rash decision that will probably get me into trouble.

But I hope Claire will understand.

Flipping over theOPENsign and locking up behind me, I climb into my car parked in the alley between Turning Pages and the Indian restaurant and make the familiar trek to the place I grew up with white knuckles gripping the steering wheel the entire time.

*

The woman whoanswers the door can’t be much older than I am. Her flushed face and wide eyes are the exact opposite of Mrs. Ricci’s calm demeanor, no matter what happens withinthese walls. Her replacement has clearly regretted accepting the position.

“Now is not the best time, miss,” she says, her voice shaky as a loud voice booms from inside.

I flatten my hand against the door and push it open despite the warning. “They’re expecting me,” I lie, knowing she won’t fight me on it.

She must not have been here long because it’s obvious she has no idea who I am. Does she eavesdrop at my father’s study door like the woman before her did? Or does she play by the rules?

If she were smart, it’d be the latter.

“Miss—”

“It’s Georgia,” I tell her, shutting the door behind me and watching her eyes widen more.

So, she has heard of me.

The yelling coming from my father’s study gets louder, making the new help flinch. “I think it’s best if you go make yourself busy somewhere else. Perhaps my old room. I’m sure it’s collecting dust these days.”

She’s quick to nod, scurrying off as something crashes in the near distance.

Taking a deep breath, I start walking toward the office that swings open before I can stop in front of it.

It’s Leani who stares wide-eyed at me with a red mark across her face that looks too familiar to the one Mrs. Ricci had endured for me.

“He hit you,” I whisper.

Her hand snatches mine, her frail fingers tightening around my wrist with a grip I was unaware she had. “You should not be here.”

She flinches when my father appears behind her, looking wild-eyed and red-faced. “It was only a matter of time before you came crawling back.”

Is that what he thinks this is? “What did you do to Leani?”

His hand comes down on her shoulder. “That is no business of yours.”

“It is when you make it mine.” I take his hand and move it, pulling Leani toward me. “Did you raise your hand to Mom too?”

Leani sucks in a breath from behind me.

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