Page 70 of Some Like It Fox

Jonas’s eyes are wide. “I can’t believe she never said anything to us. She never gave us details about her life except to say she was from New York and that she left a difficult relationship. We assumed it was abusive or something.”

“It wasn’t. My dad was great. Never lifted a hand in anger.” The man couldn’t even kill spiders and insisted on capture and release. “Finley is my oldest sister. She was eight when Mom left, Mindy was seven, Piper was four, I was two, and she had twin babies. Jake and Aria were only one.”

As I speak, listing all my siblings, his eyes grow wider and wider. “Aria? That’s someone’s name?”

I squeeze Atticus’s hand harder. “Yes. Why?”

“Before she passed, she said Aria, multiple times. I didn’t realize it was a person’s name. She would say something about beautiful Aria, and her eyes would focus on something beyond me, like she was speaking to someone else. I thought it was gibberish. I assumed she was referring to some kind of song. She loved music, especially opera.”

Chills spread up my arms at the details. She loved music. Like me. Like Mindy. I guess we come by the obsession honestly. “Aria is dead.”

He presses his lips together, his head dipping forward. “I’m so sorry. How long has she been gone?”

“Eleven years.”

He rubs his chin. “A week before she passed, Dawn made one of her Aria comments. She told me Aria had been there to visit and was coming back for her. I couldn’t track what she meant at the time—I didn’t even consider Aria was someone’s name. So much of what she talked about was nonsensical.”

My eyes burned, growing warm with unshed tears.

Jonas clears his throat, shuffling behind the desk to stand. “Did you want to see where she lived? I kept a box of her things, the personal items she left behind, just in case. There isn’t much. But it’s out there at the house.”

“Yes, please.”

We follow Jonas out the front door and around the side of the house to the back, down a dirt road to a smaller structure.

The front door opens into a narrow living space, dusty from disuse and half full of boxes, along with an old, torn, and sagging couch.

“No one’s lived here since Dawn passed. I didn’t rent it out. Decided to use it for storage and overflow from the shop,” Jonas explains, moving into the kitchenette and rearranging some boxes on the counter.

I take a quick glance around. There are only two doors off the living space, maybe leading to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Here.” Jonas hands me a medium-sized box, along with a shoebox.

They’re light, no more than fifteen pounds.

“I’ve got to head back out to the store, so I’ll give you some time and space to look through these now if you like. Feel free to take that with you when you leave,” he gestures to the boxes, “share with your siblings.” He still looks a bit shell-shocked about the afternoon’s revelations, shaking his head slowly before saying, “I can’t believe Dawn left so many children behind.” He blows out a breath. “If you have any questions before you leave, I’ll be in the house. And if you choose to take off, I understand. Here’s my card if you need to talk about anything or have any other questions I can answer later.”

“Thank you.”

Jonas nods in acknowledgment and leaves.

I stare down at the boxes in my hand, unsure what to do.

Atticus takes both from me, setting them on a scratched wooden side table. “Do you want me to stay?”

I meet his gaze. “Yes. Please.”

Picking up the shoebox, we perch side by side on the dusty couch and I take a deep breath before popping open the lid.

At the top of the box are old pay stubs.

I blink. “That’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, a cryptic letter with clues to follow that leads us on a week-long scavenger hunt across the country and ends in us stealing the Declaration of Independence?”

He nudges me with his shoulder, chuckling. “Funny.”

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