Page 44 of The Golden Hour

After disappointing Lizzie with only the vaguest description of the best date ever, I say goodnight. Halfway to my room, I change my mind and head for the kitchen for a cup of tea. I’m too wired to think about sleep yet, but I need to be alone for a bit to decompress from the night.

Seeing Molly was both a joy and shock. And as much as my heart feels fuller with her near, her involvement adds one more worry to my bucket. A bucket that was already overflowing.

As the kettle heats, I take a seat at the marble-topped counter, absentmindedly tracing the veins of gold with my finger. Molly and Finn both stressed that we’re a team, that none of us have to face this alone, and though I’d like to believe them, my instinct tells me they’re wrong.

“Why wouldn’t you want them to find me?”

Uncle Ant tapped his temple. “Because of what’s in your head.”

It’s hard to believe Uncle Anthony wanted to take me away because I held the key to exposing the family’s secrets. Not for the first time, I wonder about his endgame. Was he working with someone? A government agency? Why did he think I had something in my head that could threaten the family?

I listen to the hiss of the stove burner and rack my memory for something, anything, that might be what he referred to.

There’s nothing. Just a jumble of memories blurred with emotion. My tenth birthday party, sabotaged by Vivian, who forgot to send the invitations and blamed it on a maid. Waking from nightmares after my father went to prison and sneaking into his office to sleep beneath his desk.

Is it possible to both love and hate someone? It must be. Thoughts of my father cycle between the two; he was all I had. The only parent in whose eyes I saw affection. But there was also anger, disappointment, and scorn. Especially after he was released from prison. He was like a different person. Hardened and cold. Snapping at everyone—Vivian most of all. There was no more gruff affection from him. Not for any of us. There was only an angry, bitter man where our father had been.

“What are you doing up?”

I startle at Vivian’s voice, spinning on the barstool to see her in the kitchen doorway. She’s still in the day’s clothes, a smart business suit tailored to her curves. My heart thumps, audible in my ears, as I nod to the stove.

“Having some tea.”

Like magic, the kettle begins to whine. Grateful for the distraction, I hop off the stool to fetch a mug and teabag.

“May I join you?”

No. I’m flayed open by memories. Too vulnerable to play the game.

But I don’t really have a choice.

“Of course. Chamomile?”

“That sounds lovely.”

As I prepare our mugs, Vivian slips onto the stool next to the one I occupied.

Pull it together, I tell myself, taking slow, deep breaths. You had a great first date with Finn. You’re an ally. An asset. Act like it.

“Here you go.” I set her mug on the counter before her, then settle back onto my stool. Cradling my mug, I blow off the steam and ask, “How was your day?”

“Interesting.” She pauses and I feel her eyes on me. “Whatever you said to Fred Walters at the garden party made a lasting impression. He offered a substantial contribution to my campaign today.”

I vaguely remember talking to the man. Older, white-haired, quick to laugh, with a twinkle in his eye for me. He didn’t treat me like a leper or a sideshow, which made it easy to charm him.

“That’s great news,” I say, smiling. “He was a peach.”

She chuckles. “A peach with more money than Midas.”

My smile grows. “Even better.”

Vivian sips her tea, sighing in pleasure. “I’m actually glad I caught you, Callisto. Now that you’ve had time to get used to being back, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Nerves shimmer down my arms. I keep my fingers loose on my mug as my senses sharpen in apprehension.

“What’s that?”

Her eyes meet mine, her expression open and soft. Even though I know it’s not real, the echoes of the small girl I used to be, who just wanted a mother, perk up.

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