Chapter 22 #2
Shannon thought of her mother, who’d married her father when she was younger than Shannon. Had Arietta ever regretted marrying Fred? Had she ever wondered if she was too young to make such an enormous decision?
“I’m so grateful that Cole broke up with me!” Shannon said suddenly, smiling. “But I feel pathetic that I didn’t know how to do it myself.”
“I feel the same.” Russell rubbed the tops of his knees.
Shannon thought about what the Salt Sisters had told her—that she didn’t need to get into a serious relationship right away, not so soon after her breakup with Cole.
She and Russell could go on dates, kiss and talk about what they wanted in their lives.
Maybe it would work out, and maybe it wouldn’t.
It was important, she knew, to try. It was important to open yourself up to change.
Rather than get into all that right now, though, she remembered, “You said you wanted to show me something?”
Russell grimaced and reached for his backpack. “I’m nervous to show you.”
“Why?” Shannon wanted to laugh, but something held her back.
From his backpack, Russell procured an envelope.
At first, Shannon thought it was maybe an envelope from the blackmailers.
Maybe they’d decided to target Russell, if only to get to her mother’s money some other way.
But then she realized the envelope was yellow, with a note on the back that read "flashcards. "
“It’s an old envelope that I used a few semesters ago,” Russell explained. “I found what’s in it in an old shoebox. Someone threw them out.” His eyes echoed fear that Shannon couldn’t understand.
Shannon opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of photographs.
She remembered how Russell had always liked to walk through the houses around campus and go through the boxes of things people were throwing out.
He’d found lamps and old books. He’d found cashmere sweaters and exercise equipment and hundreds of photographs.
Shannon had never understood why someone would throw out old photographs.
Maybe they were photos of memories that were no longer important.
Maybe they couldn’t bring themselves to throw their memories in the trash.
Maybe they liked the idea of their memories having a life elsewhere.
Shannon couldn’t have ever guessed at the contents of these pictures.
The first photograph in the stack was of Dina, Shannon’s old roommate and friend. Shannon flared her nostrils. “Oh. It’s her,” she said.
Why would Russell bring Shannon a stack of photographs of Dina? she wondered.
But Russell urged her on. “Keep going.”
Shannon continued to flip. The next photograph was of Dina wearing a fabulous black silk dress.
She was seated at a fancy restaurant, a spoon in her hand as she prepared to crack a crème br?lée.
She was gazing across the table at whoever was taking the photo in a way that told Shannon that she was in love with that person.
Shannon remembered the brooding man they’d run into in the woods near campus, Dina’s new boyfriend. She imagined that she’d find a photo of him in the stack soon.
Instead, she flipped two more photos and found a picture of her father.
Shannon’s heart stopped. There he was, Fred Peters, wearing a suit jacket and a pair of Levi jeans, grinning in what looked to be a luxurious hotel room. Shannon sputtered and looked up at Russell, whose eyes were wounded. “What is this?” she breathed. “What is my father doing in this photograph?”
Russell seemed unable to speak. Shannon continued flipping through the photographs, finding many more of her father.
In all of them, he looked handsome and happy and well-dressed.
He drank beers and fabulous wines. He opened his mouth, as though he was in the middle of saying something.
And sometimes he was featured in selfies—with Dina on his arm.
In many of them, Dina pressed a kiss into him, both of them with their eyes closed.
Shannon felt all the blood rush to her feet. Her hands shook so violently that she struggled to hold the stack of photographs. Eventually, Russell rushed over to her, took the pictures away, and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her forehead, her ear. He whispered, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
But Shannon didn’t understand. “Dina? And my father?” She shook her head, trying to remember a time she’d seen her father and Dina together.
She remembered how strange Dina had been with her the previous couple of years—ever since they’d started grad school—but Shannon had assumed that that had more to do with Dina having cheated on her final experiment in undergrad using Shannon’s research.
“Why would he do something like this?” Shannon whispered. “Why would she?”
Russell held her tighter. “I didn’t know what to do when I found them.”
“It’s good you showed me,” Shannon breathed. Softly, confusedly, she explained what had been going on with her mother’s blackmailers. “It’s why I’ve spent so much time back in Nantucket rather than heading back to New Haven.”
Of course, another reason she’d remained here had more to do with Russell and their kiss. But she didn’t need to get into that, not now that she and Russell had confessed their feelings.
“Do you think Dina’s the one blackmailing my mother?” Shannon asked.
Russell’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t reckoned for such an enormous story.
“It sounds to me like she’s your number-one suspect,” he said finally.
“Dina and that cagey-looking boyfriend of hers,” Shannon whispered.
She knew she had to get to the police right away. Finally, she had a clue beyond the vague details she’d found in her father’s emails.
But she knew, beyond anything, that she couldn’t show the photographs to her mother. She didn’t want Arietta to know that the previous couple of years of her life had been a lie.
Nobody deserved to know that about their life and their love.