Page 76 of The Words We Lost

With one gentle tug, my breath snags in my chest, resurrecting a piece of my family history I mourned years ago. The aged wooden chest that holds my father’s most precious possession lies only inches from me. Gingerly, I reach for it, my fingertip grazing the scarred wood along the places where my family of three once etched our initials next to the lock. I’m not breathing when I slide the brass lock bar to the left and carefully lift the lid to reveal the bearded ax my father never sailed without.

“This will be yours one day, Elskede. It is our reminder for courage. To stay in the battle even when you fear you have lost. You will pass it to your children one day, the same way it was passed down to me.”

I touch the blade and search my memory storehouses, needing to make sense of how this could be here. Of why Cece would havehad this in her possession. Of why she wouldn’t have told me that she did.

I hear Allie’s footsteps behind me. “Ingrid? I think someone’s trying to get ahold of you. Your phone keeps ringing.”

I blink to reorient myself. “What?”

“Your phone. You left it in the bike basket with your wallet and sunglasses—here.” She offers it to me, but my hands are currently occupied with resurrected history. I tell her my passcode to unlock my screen, and her eyes go wide.

“Who was it?” I ask, shifting the chest in my arms.

“Chip Stanton.”

“Oh.” I immediately breathe away my concern. “It’s okay, he’s my assistant. I’ll call him back later.” It’s hard to even recall my ecstatic text to him earlier about my reading win while holding my father’s battle-ax.

“Um, I’m guessing this isn’t a call-him-back-later kind of thing. Not unless it’s normal for him to call you nineteen times in a span of twenty minutes?”

Without further discussion, I hand her the chest and take my phone.

25

Iwatch Allie tuck my father’s chest between the two seats in the club car as I return Chip’s call. The phone barely has a chance to ring before he answers and launches in without a greeting.

“Ingrid, listen. I don’t have much time. Minutes, seconds. I’m not sure.” His words are spoken in such a harsh, reverberating whisper that I have to press the phone closer to my ear to understand him. “SaBrina knows about the manuscript you have from Cece. The one the attorney gave you—”

“What? No. She couldn’t possibly—”

“She overheard our conversation on speakerphone the other night when I was in the break room. I swear to you, I thought I was the only one left in the building. She stayed in her office all day yesterday, and she canceled our all-staff meeting this afternoon.” His strained words bounce and echo as if he’s in a gym locker room, or possibly hiding out in an office restroom. The revelation causes the back of my neck to prickle. “I was caught completely off guard when she called me into her office this morning and interrogated me on what I knew about theothermanuscript.... Ingrid, she asked about things you and I never even discussed that night.” He goes quiet, and then his voice snags. “I—I tried my best to protect you. Please, believe that.”

The icy spasm in my core spreads to each one of my limbs within the span of two heartbeats, and I brace a hand on the frame of the storage unit door. Allie steps out of the driver’s seat of the club car, her fear-filled eyes likely a mirror image of my own.

“She’s been on the phone since I left her office, but she’s going to call you. I just wanted you to hear it from—”

A door whooshes open and closed in the background, and Chip doesn’t wait to say good-bye before he hangs up. Instead, he sends an immediate follow-up text.

Chip

I’m so sorry.

Eyes wide, I stare at the phone in my hand as if it’s a grenade.

“Ingrid?” Allie places a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

But there’s no time to answer that question, because SaBrina’s call is ringing in my palm.

For all of three seconds, I contemplate sending her to voicemail, or better yet, tossing the entire device under the wheel of the club car’s tire. But ignoring this won’t make it any easier. Ignoring the unknown only makes things worse.

I swipe right. “Hi, SaBrina.”

“Ingrid. Hello. So glad I caught you.” The lack of professional undertone as she speaks is unsettling, but I have no doubt her double entendre is intentional. “I was hoping we might discuss something that’s recently come to my attention. Do you have a moment, or are you too busy searching those final locations?”

“I have a minute,” I say carefully, willing the pulsebeat in my throat to slow.

“Good,” she says, leaving a chunk of radio silence before starting in again. “I was hoping that despite some of our initial setbacks, you and I were beginning to operate on a similar frequency. That we shared a mutual understanding. After all, we’re two intelligent,innovative women who have the same goal of expanding quality literature worldwide.”

Not entirely sure where this was headed, I adopt the less-is-more policy and keep my mouth shut as Allie stands guard beside me.

---