Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“He should have brought her home. If I’d known sooner, maybe he would have. Maybe she’d be alive now if I’d just paid attention.” He rests his head back, looking tired and resigned.
Although I don’t fully understand his comment, I feel a little sorry for him.
“Go on, Ophelia,” he says, meeting my eyes again.
I clear my throat to ask my next question. “Do I have other family?”
“Apart from that piece of shit you saw me kick out of here? No. Everyone is dead. And I’ll be dead soon too. Don’t ever smoke, young lady. It’s true, all those terrible things they say and the pictures they put on the cigarette packets. It’s bad for your health.” He puts the unlit cigarette to his lips and makes like he’s inhaling. He winks at me.
I smile. He’s not horrible. A little crazy, maybe, definitely eccentric, but not horrible.
“Now. I’d like you to meet with my lawyers in the morning. There’s quite some paperwork, you can imagine. I want it signed and done before I leave here.”
“Paperwork? I don’t care—”
“You make sure she does care,” he tells Silas. “It’s quite a lot of money, and I will be certain the right person inherits it. I’d rather burn it to ash than give it to that snake.” I’m not sure he’s talking to either of us at that last part, and I wonder if I’m wrong about his mental state.
Silas takes his wallet out and pulls a card from it. “Here. Have your lawyer contact mine. She’ll handle things on our end.” Silas turns to me. “Unless you prefer someone else.”
“No, Nigella’s fine. But you don’t even know me,” I tell my grandfather.
“I know enough. You’re no imposter. Fox confirmed that, but I’m guessing he’s regretting that now that you married the wrong boy,” he tells me then turns back to Silas. “You’ll sign something too. To protect her from you so you don’t go getting any ideas. Goddamned greed. It’ll destroy this whole damn country. Hell, it’ll destroy the world. Already has, hasn’t it?” He shakes his head.
“Mr. Carlisle-Bent, it’s time for your medication and some rest. You’re working yourself up,” a nurse says.
Silas and I stand up, taking our cue.
“Ah, fuck off,” my grandfather tells him, and I laugh. He turns to me, smiles and nods. “You sound just like her when you laugh. Horatio ever tell you that?”
“He did, actually. Many times.”
“Well, it’s true.” He turns to the female nurse. “Margaret, get that box I brought. It’s in the bedroom. Bring it to me.”
“Just a minute,” she says.
He looks up at Silas. “Your daddy’s a piece of work.”
“I don’t like to refer to him as my daddy.”
“Good. As crooked as they come and thinks he’s got everyone fooled.”
Silas smiles. “You’re right about that, Mr. Carlisle-Bent.”
Margaret returns with the box which my grandfather takes. It’s a very old, faded purple wind-up jewelry box that he fumbles to open. When he does, a small, bent ballerina takes a quarter turn to choppy, broken music before stopping. He watches the little doll inside then roots around underneath to take out a gold locket on a chain. He puts the box on his lap and opens the locket. He smiles at it fondly, and the sight of him looking at it like he is, is bittersweet. I feel the loss of this man who is sitting right here, who I know is not going to be here for very long.
“Here. It was your mother’s. Her mother gave it to her. It’s the two of them when she was just a baby. Claire left it behind when… well, it’s yours now.”
When I reach to take it from him, my fingers brush his and he captures them, holding on to them for a minute, moist eyes locked on mine. This moment isn’t bittersweet. It’s just heartbreaking.
He keeps hold of me and turns to Silas. “Keep her away from the stones, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take good care of her. Always have. Always will.”
He nods and hands me the box. “And you. You make sure you come back to see me.”
“I will. I promise. And you can trust that promise.”
He smiles.
“Come on, Mr. Carlisle-Bent. Let’s get you to bed,” Margaret says.
I watch him being led away and he suddenly looks smaller and frailer, and I feel so incredibly sad.
“You okay?” Silas asks me.
I nod, and hand off the box to open the locket. Inside are two tiny black and white photos. On one side is a woman I look a lot like and on the other is a tiny bundle of a baby. My grandmother and my mother.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Silas says.
I tuck it into my pocket and let him lead me onto the elevator and down to the lobby. We pass the entrance of the bar as we go, and I glance in to find Chandler sitting there smoking that fake cigarette and drinking a whiskey. He raises the glass to me but doesn’t smile. In fact, his face is the opposite of a smile. A chill runs down my spine.