Page 16 of Return to Whitmore
About twenty minutes later, Charlotte dared to ask the question she’d come for. “Did you know that my father isn’t Benjamin Whitmore?”
Denny flinched and adjusted in his chair. From just these mannerisms, it seemed clear he knew.
“It’s okay,” Charlotte assured him. “I know it’s an open secret.”
Denny was nervous. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. Did you just find out?”
“Years ago,” Charlotte lied. “But I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. Were you around during 1978?” It was when she’d been conceived.
“I was, of course,” Denny affirmed. “There hasn’t been a time I haven’t been around. Worked here since I was sixteen years old.”
“Right.” Charlotte smiled. “So you knew Jefferson Albright?”
“I did,” he said. “He had some crazy accent. Of course, your mother did, too.”
Charlotte folded her hands on her lap. “Was my mother the one who originally hired Jefferson Albright?”
“I don’t believe so,” he said. “I believe it was Benjamin who hired him. It was necessary, after what happened to Ronald.”
The voice rang between Charlotte’s ears. “I’m sorry. Who is Ronald?”
Denny looked like he’d really stepped in it. He adjusted his feet. “You don’t know about Ronald?”
Was Ronald another of her mother’s affairs? Charlotte stewed with anger.
“Ronald was your father’s brother,” Denny said. “He drowned in the Nantucket Sound in the early part of 1978. Must have been January or February.”
Charlotte was on her feet, gaping at him. Her heart pounded.
Denny nodded. “It was a terrible tragedy. Something went wrong with his boat, and he went under and was found a full day later. The water was turbulent. Your father went to bed for weeks after that. I don’t even know if he made it to the funeral. He was at a loss. Ronald was your father’s favorite person. They werethick as thieves. I guess that’s why he never talked about him, back then.”
Charlotte couldn’t believe this. Because Ronald had died in the first months of 1978, it was clear that neither Allegra nor Lorelei remembered him either. But Francesca surely did.
“Did my mother like him?”
“She did. They were funny,” Denny said. “Always joking around with one another.”
“Were they having an affair?” Charlotte asked because she couldn’t rule anything out.
“No.” Denny shook his head. “Francesca wouldn’t have done that. Neither would he.”
“But she slept with Jefferson Albright not long after that,” she blurted.
Denny’s face was grim. “Like I said, your father disappeared for months at a time. His grief seemed insurmountable. Around that time, he hired Jefferson Albright to manage the horses and the horseback riding lessons. Your mother was painfully lonely. I think that’s how they got together.”
Charlotte sat back down and crossed her ankles. It felt as though she’d just discovered a terrible family cancer, poisoning the rest of them.
The news was so startling that after she wrapped up filming with Denny, she returned to the bed-and-breakfast and slept for almost twenty-four hours. When she woke up, she dug through Nantucket records to discover all she could about Ronald Whitmore, her long-lost uncle. In the photos, he was handsome and hilarious-looking, always with a smile on his face. Her heart broke for this loss.
It was this loss that had pushed Francesca into the arms of Jefferson Albright.
When she left the records office, Charlotte wandered through downtown, not bothering to cover herself up with a cap. Hermind was heavy. Vincent was the last thing she thought about, which was probably why she ran into him not five minutes later. He was on the sidewalk with a pretty girl on his arm, beaming up at him as an ice cream melted on her hand. Vincent looked at her as though she were a ghost, as though he’d spent the past many months praying he’d never see her again. But here she was, haunting him.
Charlotte glanced down to see that she wore a crummy pair of jeans and a black tank top. She looked fine, sort of. She’d also been crying.
“When did you get back?” Vincent asked, causing his girlfriend to balk and look over at her.
“The other day,” Charlotte said.
