Page 6 of One Last Night

Julian responds before I can change the subject. “Fires happen, Mom. The important thing is that no one was hurt. We caught the man who sabotaged the winery, and we’ll have a new press installed by the end of the week, and we’ll upgrade our fire suppression equipment before next season. Besides, this year’s just a test year. We’re giving a few bottles to some hobnobs and stuffed shirts and a few more to friends. It’s not the end of the world if we lose some of the yield because—”

Victoria snaps her head up at Julian. Her eyes flash, and there's no more pretense of politeness. "I would think that after a Harvard education, you'd be smart enough to know that it's bad business sense to dismiss losses so easily."

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Julian snaps. “What should I do instead? Be pissy about it? Bring it up every dinner for the next several months?”

He blinks and looks nervously at me. I gather that he forgot about me for a moment. He forces laughter and says, “Anyway, it’s happened, right? Nothing we can do about it now. We’ll take more precaution in the future.”

Victoria's lips thin. She stands abruptly and says, "Mary, I apologize for leaving you early, but the older I get, the less tolerance I have for late nights. Julian, please give Beatrice my apologies. The food was quite lovely. I’ve just lost my appetite. I’ll see you all in the morning. Nathan, Luann, come give your grandmother hugs. Surely you’re not too old for that.”

The children acquiesce, and some of Victoria’s happiness returns as the two of them embrace her. “You two are so beautiful,” she gushes. “Just like your mother was.”

Julian stiffens when she says that, but he looks grieved more than angry. The children don’t show the same grief, so I guess that their mother died when they were both very young.

Julian confirms that fact a moment later. “My wife, sadly, was taken from us early, Mary. She survived long enough to see the children start their schooling, but she… Well, she lives in our memories, right kids?”

“Right,” the children echo.

They look embarrassed at their adults, and I don’t blame them. I don’t blame the adults either, though. Julian will spend the rest of his life grieving the woman he loved, and there’s precious little anyone can do to help him with that. I know what it’s like to lose the person one loves the most.

As for Victoria, I get the sense that her disagreements with Julian over the family business hurt more than Julian realizes. She is older now, but her vibrant personality suggests to me that she’s not used to her age. She likely resents being condescended to, even when the intention isn’t to humiliate her.

Of course, I could be reading far too much into all of this. If there was a fire at the winery, then it no doubt caused stress for all of them.

We finish dinner with no further incident. The conversation, however, is forced from that point, and the three remaining Bellamy’s are clearly grateful when the meal ends, and they’re able to retreat to their rooms for the evening.

There’s nothing to suggest that I’ll end up embroiled in another scandal, but it’s clear that this family is divided. Perhaps this will be my chance to do good for someone without getting caught in a web of intrigue.

Or perhaps I’ve only just glimpsed a single bone in a closet full of skeletons.

CHAPTER THREE

Julian encourages me to feel free to explore the house before he goes upstairs. “Don’t feel like you need to stay cooped up in your room when you’re not with the children. The house is a lot more hoity-toity than we are.”

I laugh at that. “You’re very generous, Mr.—”

"Ooh, no. Not hoity-toity remember. Mr. Bellamy sounds like a judge's name. Julian, please. It’s bad enough I have to spend most days wearing silk suits. Do you know how uncomfortable suits get after a while? One of these days, I'm going to show up to a board meeting in flip flops and a wifebeater just to see how the others react.”

He catches himself and blushes a little. “Well, I guess you know we’re crazy now.”

I smile at him. In truth, this little display of honesty has warmed me to him and eased some of the worries that linger after dinner. “All of the best people are crazy. Don’t be fooled by my proper English manners. My own insanity will evidence itself soon enough, I’m sure.”

He laughs, a rich, hearty sound that warms me to him further. “I look forward to seeing it. In the meantime, there’s a television in the living room with far more channels than any reasonable human being needs to watch and a library on the far end of the house with far more books than any reasonable human being needs to read.”

“A library?” Victoria didn’t mention that.

“Yes. It was Dad’s old library. Mom cleaned out the study when he died, but I persuaded her to keep the library. I was a big reader when I was a teenager. If you follow the hallway past the den—that’s the old study—you’ll reach it. Read whatever you want. We’re not trying to preserve the classics or anything.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you.”

He heads upstairs, and I eagerly head to the library. I'm not planning to snoop, only to read. I do enjoy reading and spend most nights sitting in bed, curled up with a book before I fall asleep. In fact, I'll probably just select one to start with and head upstairs to my room.

I remain convinced that all I plan to do is read right up until I open the door and step inside. But the library has a smell to it that lays bare my true feelings. It’s an old, musty smell, not unlike a graveyard, but instead of frightening me with the aroma of death, I am drawn powerfully to the secrets held here within tomes rather than tombs.

This is the part of my personality that gets me into trouble. It’s not something I’m born with but rather something that develops after Annie’s disappearance and becomes more powerful when I leave my teaching job and begin searching for her in earnest.

I can’t stand secrets. Imustknow them. I must expose the harmful ones, and in my experience, they’re all harmful.

I believe this stems from the fact that my sister betrayed me with a secret. She never told me where she was going or even that she planned to leave in the first place. Her disappearance damaged me. I mean that word literally, too. She didn't just hurt me, shedamagedme. That’s what secrets do. They damage people. Dishonesty is cruel, and the decades have only strengthened my belief that it’s better for all concerned that secrets aren’t allowed to exist.

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