Page 23 of Return to Whitmore
“I mean, when did he buy that house?” Addison demanded, gaining traction based on Nina’s anger. “Why didn’t he tell me about it?”
“He’s had it since his early twenties,” Charlotte said softly. “But he never told me exactly why he bought it.” There was a slight hint of sarcasm to her voice that she regretted.
“Was he living there?” Addison demanded.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “On and off. But it sounds like he met you and decided to build a new life.”
“He built a new life but maintained his old one,” Addison corrected. “He didn’t bring me into any of this.”
“It’s a dark and twisted backstory,” Charlotte breathed.
Addison smashed her fist on the table and glared at both of them. “I need to know, okay?”
Charlotte took a staggered breath.
She didn’t feel brave enough to say his real name—Jack Whitmore. But Nina’s anger conjoined with Addison’s and formed a powerful storm, one that demanded something from Charlotte.
“I haven’t seen him in years,” Charlotte admitted. “But things in my life were getting out of hand. The past few years have been a sort of blur of disappointments and failed relationships and medical scares. I’m forty-five, and I have very little to show for it, not like the both of you.”
Nina’s shoulders relaxed, if only slightly. Charlotte was surprised to feel that she was telling them the truth, mostly.
“During our early twenties, Seth and I hung out quite a bit in Manhattan,” she explained. “After everything that had happened in our family, it felt like we only had each other. We had to hold on tight. We even lived together for a couple of years, working odd jobs here and there as we tried to make sense of the past.”
“That means he must have told you what happened,” Nina blurted.
Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. She shook her head.
“What happened?” Addison demanded.
Nina looked at her directly. “The night of the fire. They told us our brother was dead.”
Addison gasped. “Seth? That Seth was dead? When was this?”
“In 1998,” Nina and Charlotte answered in unison.
Nina turned to look at Charlotte again. But all Charlotte could say was, “He wouldn’t tell me. Not everything. He wanted to start over. And he wanted to protect me.”
“That’s insane,” Nina said. It was clear she didn’t want to believe Charlotte.
Addison looked depleted.
“Why did you leave Italy in the first place?” Nina asked. Pain echoed from her eyes.
Charlotte’s voice shook. “You remember how I told you that Mom not being your mom was the tip of the iceberg?”
Nina nodded.
“Well, I found out that Dad wasn’t my dad,” Charlotte went on, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t take it. I was so angry with Francesca. I had to go.”
Nina put her hands over her mouth. Addison’s eyes slid from Nina to Charlotte and back again.
“Who is your real dad?” Nina asked.
“His name is Jefferson Albright,” Charlotte said. “But that’s not all.”
In bits and pieces, Charlotte explained what had happened to their father’s brother, Ronald—how, the year before her birth, he’d drowned in the Nantucket Sound, an event which had probably pulled Francesca and Benjamin apart. When she finished, Nina, Charlotte, and Addison sat in stunned silence, plagued with more questions than answers.
It wasn’t clear how to go forward.
