Chapter 3 #3
“I know she didn’t. She should have. She made him out to be a hero to you.
She was the hero in the story. It was fortunate that the airline was responsible—she supported you all on the insurance money until she got her writing career going as Morgan Reed.
She had an incredible talent. I think she was so wounded by what he did that there wasn’t another man in her life for nearly twenty years.
She dedicated herself entirely to you. It was all she cared about, that and writing the books, and building her career.
For the last fifteen years of her life, she was happy.
No one deserved it more. I wanted her to share it with you, but she wouldn’t.
She thought you’d be upset, so she kept it to herself, like everything else she did.
She met Spencer York here in my office, by accident.
He’s one of my clients. He was a widower with a son around the same age as you, Quinne.
Sparks flew immediately. They fell in love, and I’ve never seen two people happier or more devoted to each other.
They were crazy about each other, and good for each other.
He lived in Connecticut, and they went back and forth, both of them with heavy writing schedules.
They were a perfect fit. Three years later, the farm next to his became available.
I think the couple who owned it were very old and they died.
Your mother bought the farm in Connecticut then, and she and Spencer restored it together.
They were so happy, and for the last twelve years, they’ve lived there side by side.
When one of them was writing, the other could retreat to their own house if they needed to, but they were almost never apart.
They were wonderful together, and so good to each other.
It was a fairy tale with a nightmare ending.
“She insisted on running the marathon. Spencer didn’t want her to.
He was afraid she would get injured. It never occurred to anyone that she might get killed.
I drove out to Connecticut that night to tell him and I was afraid he wouldn’t survive it.
He was a few years older than your mother.
He was devastated. I stayed with him for three days.
I doubt he’ll ever get over it. He wanted to marry her, and she never wanted to.
They felt married anyway, and she was afraid you would be upset if she remarried.
They lived together on their farms and she came into the city to see you.
I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to tell you, but I wanted you to know that your mother had been loved by a good man who cared deeply for her.
And I always said she should have told you about Spencer York.
He’s heartbroken without her. He truly loved her. ”
Charlotte looked shaken when she found her voice.
It had been another shocking meeting with revelations about their mother, of a deeply personal nature.
More than ever, they felt as though they hadn’t known their mother at all.
She had been passionately in love with a man for fifteen years and they had known nothing about it, hadn’t suspected, and had never even met him. And now she was gone.
“Where is he now?” Charlotte asked Robert.
“He couldn’t stand being in the place where they’d been so happy, once she was gone.
Friends lent him a flat in London for six months.
They’re shooting a movie in Africa. He left two weeks ago.
His son is house-sitting for him. He’s a writer too.
He lives in Aspen, and flew in when he heard the news.
I think Spencer’s son comes and goes. It’s a little quiet for him out there and he comes into the city.
But he’s keeping track of the house for Spence.
His father is in seclusion in the flat in London.
He’s not seeing anyone. He’s in deep mourning.
” All five sisters were shocked into silence by the story of their mother’s love affair with the famous writer.
“Could we write to Spencer?” Veronica asked.
They had all been deeply touched by what Robert had told them, and this new revelation about their mother, as a woman deeply in love with a man for many years, without ever telling them.
“I’d like to thank him for making her happy, and tell him how sorry I am for his loss.
Maybe we could meet him when he comes back from England.
” The others all nodded, agreeing with her.
It had been a week of startling discoveries.
Their mother hadn’t been as solitary as they believed her to be, and their father hadn’t been the saint she claimed.
Charlotte felt as though an entirely different woman had replaced their mother.
The new one was stunningly famous, immensely rich, lived on a farm, and had found her soulmate fifteen years before and was part of a loving couple.
It reminded Charlotte again of how little time they had spent with Felicia, and how little effort they had made to get to know her once they were adults.
They took everything about her at face value, and she had continued to play the role of the single parent, with a menial job as a minor book editor for a famous author, instead of the star she had been, and the woman of many facets, none of which they knew, never looking beyond the exterior, which was only a cardboard facade.
All the while, she was preparing for their future, so they would be safe and comfortable forever.
Charlotte wished they could start all over again and truly get to know Felicia and show her how much they loved her, in all her guises and disguises, and as the real woman she had been behind the facade.
She had even protected their father so as not to hurt them.
Charlotte could only imagine how lonely she had been for the seventeen years after their father’s death until she met Spencer York.
“I think Spencer would like to hear from you,” Robert said to Veronica, and smiled at all of them.
“Your mother will probably haunt me forever for revealing her secrets to you, but I thought for a long time that you had a right to know, especially now after losing her. These are happy secrets, that she was loved and happy in her final years. And I think it would give Spencer considerable comfort to meet you. Some of you are very much like her, and there will be solace for him in meeting you. She lives on in all of you. I’ll have my assistant send you his address, and email contact. ”
After that, they talked about the offers he currently had pending for their mother’s work, from publishers around the world and from streaming platforms. Scott had been right.
There would be many decisions they’d have to make in the coming years about Felicia’s work.
It was a living body of work that would stretch far into the future, which was a way for them to keep their mother alive too.
It was five o’clock when they left Robert’s office on Madison Avenue, and Charlotte looked at her sisters.
“I need a drink. If I find out one more thing about Mom, that she had six more children we don’t know about, was a belly dancer in Paris, had three more houses, and was married to an Italian prince, I think I’m going to have a heart attack.
I’m maxed out. I need a martini,” she said, and the others laughed.
“I think I need one too,” Olivia said, and she rarely drank. “One of you can push my chair afterward so I don’t end up on my ass on the sidewalk.”
“I’m in,” Quinne said with a grin. Isabelle and Veronica agreed, and they headed to PJ Clarke’s a few blocks away, got a table, ordered drinks, and smiled at each other after the first sip.
“Mom sure had a lot of major activities we never knew about.” Charlotte summed it up.
“A huge best-selling career, over a hundred books under a pseudonym, a fifty-million-dollar farm we just inherited, and a boyfriend she was crazy about for fifteen years. Why the hell didn’t she tell us anything?
We’re not kids anymore, and we loved her, and cared about her. ”
“Maybe she was too busy listening to us, and worried about us,” Quinne suggested, “but it would have been nice to have some warning that we’d be responsible for the afterlife of her entire body of work now. I don’t know a damn thing about it.”
“At least you know about TV,” Charlotte reminded her. “You can help the rest of us with that. And Veronica, you’re an attorney, you can look over the contracts.”
“I haven’t practiced in ten years and I was in my first job as a lawyer then. I don’t know anything about book contracts, or TV. I will start reading up on literary law,” she said seriously.
“Well, you’d better read fast,” Charlotte said in a stern voice.
“Don’t you trust Robert?” Veronica asked her, surprised.
“Yes, but he’s eighty-two years old, what happens if he gets sick or retires?”
“He’s the best in the business, the best literary agent, and Scott can help us with the contracts,” Veronica said. “Until I get up to speed.” There was so much to think about.
“I think we all better start learning about Mom’s business so we can make good decisions about the deals we get offered. Have any of you read the Morgan Reed books?” Quinne asked. “I read two, years ago. They were terrific, but they made me too anxious before I went to sleep at night.”
“I read one when I was in rehab,” Olivia said. “Mom gave it to me. It was great, but I don’t usually read thrillers or mystery books. I prefer Eastern philosophy.”
“My book club read one a few months ago. I never get time to read anymore. I dropped out,” Isabelle said, looking embarrassed. The fact that they believed Felicia only edited the Morgan Reed books wasn’t enough to make them read them.
“Great.” Charlotte ordered her second martini and turned to Olivia. “You’d better get another designated driver for your chair. I’m planning to get seriously drunk.”
“It’s obvious that we need to do some major catching up. We at least need to know what we’re selling,” Quinne said seriously. “Mom wrote a hundred and eight books. We each need to read twenty-one of her books, and then we’ll all know what we’re doing and we can talk about it.”
“It’ll take me twenty years,” Isabelle said, looking glum.
“I’ll read thirty,” Veronica volunteered. “That way you only have to read ten,” she said to Isabelle. “I read fast and I have nothing else to do, sitting around, waiting for Anson to show up.” They agreed to do it, and Charlotte had an idea halfway through her second martini.
“I’m going to take my kids to Paris for Christmas. Paris is gorgeous at Christmas. And Christmas is going to suck this year without Mom.”
“I’ll bet the farm is beautiful at Christmas,” Isabelle said wistfully, wondering if she’d still have a husband by then.
“Why don’t you and I spend Christmas there?” Veronica said to Olivia. “I can’t see Anson on the holidays and it will be like being with Mom. We can bring some of her decorations from her apartment.” Olivia’s face lit up when she said it.
“I’ve been dreading Christmas without her,” she confessed.
“We all have,” Charlotte said, delighted with her Paris plan.
“Coop and I could come out for New Year’s,” Quinne said, smiling.
“We’re spending Christmas with my in-laws,” Isabelle said, “if Ian hasn’t left me by then.” Christmas was two weeks away, and it was beginning to sound better than it had since their mother’s death.
“What about Dad?” Charlotte said, glancing from one to the other. “That was quite a revelation about him. He was going to divorce her, and she never told us in all these years. She protected him and made him sound like a hero.”
“At least she was happy for fifteen years with Spencer York,” Quinne reminded them. “I have no idea who our mother was by now. But whoever she was, I think she was an incredible woman and I think I love her even more than before. I wish I could tell her.”
“Yeah, me too,” Charlotte said. “I’m sorry for all the mean things I said about her, and the arguments I had with her about crap that didn’t matter. And she was right about Adam. He’s even worse than she said.”
“I’m not giving up Anson,” Veronica said staunchly, “I love him, even if he’s married and I’ll be in the shadows for the rest of my life.” It was a heavy admission from her. She hadn’t given up on him.
“Maybe you could do some legal work,” Olivia suggested, “and learn about copyright law and intellectual properties. We have a goldmine on our hands, and you could explain some things to us.”
“I’ll get some books,” Veronica promised, and looked excited about it.
“Or you can handle my divorce,” Isabelle said, beginning to feel drunk.
“You don’t need to divorce him,” Quinne said sensibly, “just lay down the law and scare the hell out of him.”
“Maybe he’ll leave me,” Isabelle said sadly.
“He won’t,” Charlotte said. “He’s not that dumb. You two have too much going. You just have to get through this.”
“I want to write to Spencer York,” Veronica said, “and meet him when he gets back.”
“We can invite his son over when we go to the farm for Christmas,” Olivia suggested, and Veronica liked the idea. She wanted to know more about the man their mother had loved and who had loved her so passionately.
Charlotte picked up the check, and took charge of Olivia’s chair on the way out. She bumped into two tables, and Quinne took over. She seemed more sober than the others.
They hugged each other then and hailed two cabs, and got Olivia’s chair into the trunk of one of them, after Olivia slid onto the back seat.
They all had a plan for Christmas, which was a first step.
And as Quinne had said, with all that they knew about their mother now, they loved her more than they ever had before.
It made the loss both better and worse. They were only just beginning to know the person they had lost. She had been a stranger to them before, and had hidden from them all her life.
And now they wanted to get to know her, with all the secrets she had kept.