Page 52 of Thick and Thin

“A yule log, yes.” To me, she said, “It’s the only time I can get him to eat anything bad.”

“It’s so bad, it’s good. I might just sit beside the fireplace tonight and eat the whole damn thing.”

“Well, then, I suppose I need to fill you up with a hearty breakfast to make up for all the bad food you’ll be eating over the next few days.”

Part of me felt a pang of sadness for him—because he’d be all alone in this monstrous mansion. I’d actually grown to love it in the months since I’d first arrived, but it reminded me of how lonely he’d seemed, how cold and distant. It was a reminder of how empty even the most beautiful building can be when it’s filled with priceless art, exquisite furnishings, and no love. And now, with Greg and his wife, along with Edna and me, leaving that day, Sinclair would be all alone. Even going to his father’s house for the evening and his oldest brother’s the next day wouldn’t make up for it.

But he didn’t seem sad at all. Not a bit. I found that strange, because I felt like I’d gotten to know him enough to see behind the masks he wore. Maybe he was making an extra effort, knowing I needed to be with my father.

Soon, all three of us sat at the table—Sinclair and I in our usual spots across from each other with Edna at the head between us. I loved having her here. Sinclair said, “I wanted to give you an update about the simulation lab.”

“Oh.” I nodded, scooping up a spoonful of the oatmeal as the scent of cinnamon wafted into my nostrils. I imagined, since I would be in Winchester later that day, that he didn’t want me getting any more surprises going home like had happened in October.

“The police have been working diligently on the case since I supplied them with newer information—and they have concluded that you weren’t the one who destroyed the lab. Instead, based on what I told them, they conducted interviews with lots of students on campus and finally got one kid to break. He confessed that he and a few other students had done the deed under the direction of one Alan Sherwood—and the mastermind of the plan has been arrested.”

“Oh, wow.”

“They didn’t give me details, but they said they also got a search warrant for his office on campus and his home and found evidence linking him to the crime.”

“Meaning Lise is free and clear?”

“One hundred percent.”

Edna had a twinkle in her brown eyes when she said, “Why don’t you have that scoundrel come work off his debt with you?”

Sinclair grinned. “I think I’m done with exacting revenge. Life is too short for all that.”

I couldn’t agree more. Even at my age, life was beginning to feel way too short.

“Besides, he’s not nearly as breathtaking.”

I blushed, smiling at him before focusing intently on my oatmeal.

After breakfast, Sinclair asked me to stay for just a bit. Now that the east wing’s second floor had been cleaned out—including returning Augie and Warren’s personal belongings to them, whether they wanted them or not—an interior designer would be in the first week of January to discuss renovations.

I was thrilled that Sinclair had managed to let go enough of the past to allow Edna and I to do that—and it was all the more evident, because he asked me to take a walk with him through that wing’s second floor.

As we walked down the main hall past the antechamber, I got another look at the huge decorated tree there, sitting in the spot where the giant red vase was usually displayed. The tree was a lovely sight, decorated by Edna with Henry’s help. He’d had to use a ladder to reach the top—and I’d discovered that all the Christmas decorations had been in one of the old servants’ quarters. And that was where the red vase and pedestal it sat on were tucked away until the holidays were over.

It was spectacular. Even though Sinclair had always had Henry hang lights outside so he wouldn’t appear to the neighbors to be a Grinch, he’d never allowed the inside of the mansion to be decorated.

This year, though, we had his blessing—and I helped Edna with everything but the tree, making the main hall, the antechamber, and select rooms like the library and great room as festive as possible. And I felt that holiday spirit as we walked through the mansion, filled with emotions I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The only thing missing was my father—and I’d get to see him soon enough.

Once we got to the second floor, Sinclair took me through the rooms one at a time, starting with Augie’s first and then Warren’s. He had memories of each one, but his best memories were in the playroom. He told me that it had been a nursery at one time but that one of the nannies had suggested a play space where it would be easy to keep an eye on the younger boys. Warren only agreed when they put in a television and game console.

Even Sinclair’s own room, one I hadn’t seen until it was time to start working up there, didn’t seem to evoke much emotion in him. “I always hated it up here…probably because my father did and happiness wasn’t allowed. We never felt like a real family.”

He had more to say, but he wasn’t spitting it out—so I knew I had to be patient.

Even without the furniture to evoke those memories, they clung to him like an albatross. The walls were eggshell with no ornamentation, the drapes and carpet a rich blue color, but—unlike his brothers’ childhood spaces, there wasn’t anything distinctive about it. I realized then that Constance probably had had some say in her older boys’ rooms. After spending so much time in adult Sinclair’s bedroom, I had a hard time believing he’d grown up in this one.

After walking over to the window, he started talking again. “At night, I’d stare out at the garden and the pool…in the summer anyway. In the winter, it looked cold and dark back here—but summer always gave me a little hope.” As I joined him by the window to take in the limited view, he added, “Much like you.”

Several minutes had passed while we stared out at the snow-covered yard below. It was lovely in its own way, the pristine blanket untouched by feet or animals, hiding the dormant lawn underneath. At least facing south he would have gotten more light during the winter than his brothers whose rooms were on the other side of the hallway.

“Shall we?” he asked, finally turning away from the window. When I nodded, we left the room and approached the bedroom door that had once belonged to their parents. As we entered, I let out a long breath that it no longer smelled stale and stuffy in here—and with the furnishings gone, it was a little easier to imagine it was just another room.

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