Page 30 of On Thin Ice

Edna pulled into another parking lot, something that appeared to be an oddity on this particular street. There were a lot of cars crammed along the road parallel parked with not a space between them—but there was a sign inside the parking lot, warning drivers that these spaces were for customers only.

When Edna parked, she got her wallet out and handed me a card. “Run it as credit,” she said. “I’ll wait here. But please send me a message to let me know if it’s going to take a while. I don’t want the food in the back getting too warm.”

Relief coursed through my veins that she wouldn’t be right next to me to see the actual medicine I’d be picking up. As I put the card in my purse, I remembered that I still had some of her cash, so I handed it back to her, and then I walked as quickly as I could manage to the doors of the building.

As I walked inside and made my way to the counter, it dawned on me again…I was now a full-fledged woman. Although I still felt like a girl inside, I’d just passed a milestone.

And I was proud to be Sinclair’s woman…but I had no idea of knowing if he thought of me the same way.

Chapter 11

As I spoke with my dad on the phone later that afternoon, I realized something that made me so sad, I wondered if it seeped through my voice. If I had fallen in love with anyone other than Sinclair Whittier, I would have told my father probably before anyone else.

As it was, I hadn’t told a soul.

But I’d gotten good at keeping my voice light, at making my imprisonment seem not so bad that sharing something positive was also easy to brush over.

Still, I had some news I wanted to share. “There is a silver lining to all of this.”

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Whittier is going to pay for me to get a degree.” The phone was so silent for so long that I finally asked, “Dad? Are you still there?”

“I’m here. I just find that very hard to believe. Why would those people do anything nice for you?”

Although I was beginning to suspect it was because Sinclair cared for me on some level, that wouldn’t make my father feel any better. So I slapped together pieces of the truth, hoping it would make sense. “Believe it or not, for lots of reasons. In the work I’m doing for him, I found a painting that might be worth over a million dollars—and it was something just sitting in storage, collecting dust. If I hadn’t found it and rescued it, who knows what would have happened to it?”

“Hmm. So you’ve made them money?”

He didn’t have to know Sinclair didn’t plan to sell it—at least not as far as I could tell. Still, it was a definite asset he could add to his portfolio. “Yes, so maybe he feels obliged to pay me. But that’s not all. I’m going to be earning a master’s in museum studies—and that will only help me with the work I’m doing now. Plus he said they pay for their employees’ education all the time.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t some kind of trick? You’re not going to wind up owing the bill?”

“I thought of that, dad—so I’m going to make sure the tuition is paid each semester before I attend.”

“Smart girl. Of course, you thought of that. Well, good. I say take advantage of whatever they give you while you can.”

We’d already discussed the insurance and my father was no longer paying for that for me, and I hoped that meant a little more money in his pocket that would give him a bit of a cushion for his monthly expenses. I tried to think how I would have worded my sentences before falling in love with Sinclair. “It’ll be good to have a solid education without having that debt hang over my head—even if it is funded by the Whittiers.”

“As much as I hate that part about it, I think you should milk it for all its worth. That would at least be a little repayment for everything that’s happened to us.”

It was the first time I’d ever heard the defeat in my father’s voice, the first time I’d ever sensed just how victimized he’d been by his decades-long beef with this powerful family. It was so hard for me to reconcile that—and the life I’d always known—with my growing adoration for the youngest Whittier son. I had just a glimmer of hope—what if we could mend that fence?

But, of course, that would never happen. The rift between our families was too deep, too far to cross…yet I couldn’t help the way my feelings for him were growing. I just couldn’t think about the future.

My future, at any rate.

“I need to follow up with Mr. Whittier about your treatment in October.” It was so weird calling him Mr. Whittier now, but it was another necessary pretense I’d have to get used to.

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“You’ve got enough to worry about, princess. I’ll take care of it.”

I knew he wasn’t telling me everything, but I had no way to find out. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. Maybe Sinclair had already made arrangements and my father was too proud to say what they were.

We spoke a little longer. Dad told me the town had removed a traffic light from a corner of Main Street in Winchester, saying it wasn’t necessary, but he thought it was yet another stupid move by Winchester government. Half joking, I told him there were plenty of traffic lights up here. Then we said goodbye, and I found my eyes filled with tears when we ended the call.

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