Page 33 of The Unbound Bookshop
Last New Year’s Eve, Nadia uncovered Brian’s affair the same night he proposed. She’d gone from being engaged to publicly devastated before the ball had fully dropped in Times Square.
Of course Nadia had reason to suspect Donnie of cheating. She’d learned firsthand that sometimes it’s the people you least suspect who can hurt you the most.
But Donnie wasn’t like Brian. Brian may have won Nadia over, but she’d never trusted him. He was too slick, like a shiny, slippery surface primed for a fall. Whereas she’d entrusted her very life to Donnie without hesitation. And that had included her heart.
“No. It’s not possible.” The slight waver in her voice betrayed her tiny sliver of doubt. She focused on fluffing the turquoise bow tied to the basket’s wicker handle, avoiding Nadia’s gaze.
“I’m sure you’re right. But all the same, when was the last time you went over your finances?”
“I just purchased a new accounting program.” It was her second big investment after online reservation software. But from the frown on Nadia’s face, it wasn’t the answer she wanted.
A cold shiver swept through her.Please, don’t bring up Donnie’s money, she silently pleaded.Not again.
She knew her friend meant well. After Donnie’s accident, Nadia had encouraged her to get a handle on his finances, life insurance, and military benefits. It made perfect sense. It was the mature, responsible thing to do. But Abby couldn’t bring herself to touch Donnie’s money. Or his secret beach house in Blessings Bay—the house that had become her home—until she’d been desperate for a secluded escape last Christmas.
She’d tried to rationalize her reticence, to explain why she’d left every dime sitting in his separate bank account. But denial that deep didn’t make sense until you lost someone so important—so closely entwined with your own heart and soul—that merely acknowledging their absence stole your breath away.
Until Nadia felt a similar loss—heaven forbid—she’d never understand.
“You know what I meant,” Nadia pressed, her direct tone tempered with kindness. “And from your avoidance, I assume you’re still letting Donnie’s lawyer handle everything?”
Abby fussed with the bow. Why couldn’t she get the loops even?Ugh. She yanked the ribbon, undoing the bow altogether.
“Abs.” Nadia’s voice crept across the table. “It’s been over a year since Donnie died. Don’t you think it’s time to do something with all that money? To finally put it to good use?”
Abby crumpled the ribbon into a ball, crinkling the smooth satin. Talking about Donnie’s money left a hollow void in her stomach. She’d thought about emptying his accounts before. She could invest the money in her business. Or donate it all to a worthy cause. But for some reason, she couldn’t make a decision. It felt too…final.
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But I don’t need it. I have savings. And the inn is doing well.” For the first time in her life, she felt proud of her own accomplishment. She wasn’t merely supporting someone else’s passion. She had her own goals and dreams.
“The inn is amazing,” Nadia agreed. “But…” She trailed off, as if searching for the right word.
Abby’s muscles tensed. For the second time in one conversation, her typically candid friend seemed hesitant.
Nadia cast a furtive glance at Piper, who’d moved into the foyer to dust the vintage hall stand. Turning back to Abby, she said, “I think it would be wise to call Donnie’s lawyer. Have him send you all the financials. I can go over them with you, if that helps. But you should at least be informed. Then, once you know all the numbers, you can decide what to do with it all. Okay?”
Abby nodded slowly, staring at the limp, wrinkled ribbon in her hand as an icy dread clamped around her heart.
An ominous, unspoken implication hid behind Nadia’s simple request.
If the paternity results came back positive, Piper and her son would be entitled to a portion of everything she owned.
And it would behoove her to know exactly how much she had at stake.
As if losing her faith in Donnie—in their marriage—wasn’t bad enough.
Chapter 20
SAGE
What amI doing up here?
Sage clung to the wooden mast like a squirrel on a telephone pole, feeling foolish. Or desperate. Or both.
The setting sun warmed the back of her neck and arms. Sweat gathered along her hairline, but more from the mental and physical exertion than the heat. She’d been searching the deck all day, scouring every square inch for the diary. But no luck. Panic settled in her chest. She hadn’t found it below deck, either, and she was running out of places to look.
Hence her ridiculous idea to search the rigging.
“Where did you hide the diary, Mira?” she whispered into the wind. “It has to be here somewhere.”
