25
Josie
"Hey, Dad. Come on in." I pull him into a tight hug. "A bunch of my friends are here. I hope you don't mind."
Following me in, he glances around the open space. "I know Mel, of course."
"Mr. Mueller." She stands up from the couch, pulling him into a hug. "Nice to see you again. This is my fiancée, Serenity. Renna."
I see his brow furrow, and jump in to stop an unnecessary comment. "They're perfect for each other, Dad. I'm happy for them." I turn him toward Tilly and Florence. "Tilly. She's Renna's BFF. And this is Florence." I'm not sure how to introduce her, so I leave it at that.
"Florence is Josie's girlfriend," Tilly winks at my dad. "We're helping her deal with all this shit that her grandpa left for her. Did you know he was spying on her?"
Dad's mouth opens in surprise, and he looks at me. "What's she talking about, mieloji?"
I give Tilly a hard look before guiding my dad to the table. "Sit down, Dad. I'm going to fill you in on what we've found."
"Okay. I'm listening."
I hand him the three-page letter from the safe deposit box and disappear into the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee. I watch him from the kitchen. He's on his third read-through by the time I return with his mug.
"This is…" He trails off, at a loss for words.
"Scary? Stupid? Creepy? Fucked up?" Tilly supplies him.
He looks up at me in surprise. "Do you and your friends talk like that all the time?"
I roll my eyes in exasperation. "No. Sometimes, but not around our elders. Tilly's different." I don't really mind her crassness, but I wish she would filter it around my dad. "She's also right. Between the letter and some of the things at the penthouse, it is scary."
"And fucked up," she adds.
I study my dad. He seems disturbed by the letter, too. "Opa also had cameras in my house. He was spying on me, Dad. For many, many years."
"What do you mean?"
"Cameras, Dad. He was watching me—literally. He has a picture of me at my hooding ceremony. He was there, or at least someone was there in his stead. He has a shelf of all my favorite books next to the picture. About two dozen of them, including a new one from less than a month before he died. And he has a secret room with all my favorites going back to fucking kindergarten." The more I think about it, the more it freaks me out. "He's been watching me, in some capacity, since mom cut him out of our lives."
"Bastard," he growls softly. He pushes his coffee away and gets up, reaching for me. "My mieloji. Baby." His arms are around me, and for the first time in a week, I'm safe.
I'm safe.
I bury my head in his chest and dissolve into silent sobs—of fear and panic, but equally the relief of finally feeling safe in Dad's arms. He tightens his arms around me, patting me softly, soothing me, hushing me. Another arm wraps around me, and I instinctively know it's Florence. Then Mel is on my other side, and I'm surrounded by the most important people in my life. The smell of my dad's musky cologne mixes with the age-old eau de Mel —the two people who've been my home for as long as I can remember.
Florence tenderly pulls my face to look at her. "We've got you, Josie." She leans her forehead against mine. "You're going to be okay. We've got you."
Dad and Mel loosen their arms, and Tilly steps into my periphery. She softly pushes Florence's shoulder, breaking us apart. "We've got you," she repeats, "but we have things that need to be taken care of before we let our guards down." She squeezes my arm gently and turns to my dad. "He had cameras at Mel's place, too. We've taken down the ones here and at Mel's. We need to get the ones from your house down."
"It's aimed at the couch in the living room," I tell Dad. "It's been disabled, but it could still be hacked into. I want to get it out of the house. If you could take Mom out for dinner, even just to the store for half an hour—I don't think she needs to know about it."
He sits down at the table again, hard. "I never thought he would stoop that low," he whispers, shaking his head. "I'll get her out of the house for a little while. Tomorrow." He looks at me, and I nod. "I don't want to keep it a secret from her, but she doesn't need to know until it's gone."
"Dad." I sit down next to him at the table. "Tell me what you know of him. I want to understand why Mom is so angry at him. I want to know what he did. Part of me is ready to walk away from all of this and let it all go."
"What you know already isn't enough?" he asks, his tone serious.
"I don't really know much. He was a creep. He was a thief—not only in his younger days, but judging by some of the things in the penthouse, he never outgrew that." Florence's warm hands are on my shoulders, and I lean back into her.
"Your mother thinks he killed your Grandma Greta."
The way he words that makes me think. "You don't."
Behind me, Florence squeezes my shoulder. "In the letter, it sounded like an admission."
Dad's eyes glance up to Florence and he nods. "I didn't before, but your girlfriend is right, mieloji." A deep sadness crosses his eyes. "There were two kinds of people who lived through the war—those who did horrible things and were at peace with that, and those who weren't."
I feel Florence take a breath behind me to say something, and my dad's eyes look up at her again.
He shakes his head at her. "It's the same with victims. You had people on both sides who did horrible things." He leans back in his chair and squeezes his eyes shut. "My dad fled the war in 1944. The Nazis had taken control, and when the Soviets took back our country, he fled to safety. While that gave him—and me—a much better life, he always felt like a chicken. He hid under the bed when he was twelve, when the Nazis came and took his parents away."
Florence opens her mouth to say something, but he sits up straighter. "Don't you dare tell me that what he did wasn't horrible. It haunted him every day of his life." He sighs. "Every single person lived through their own version of hell."
Florence starts to pull away from me, but I put my hand over hers to stop her. Don't you dare pull away from me when I need you.
"I'm just saying," he continues, "I've seen pieces of what the war did to people. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. Your grandfather was on the wrong side of things, but I chose to believe that he had humanity—that maybe what he did during the war haunted him, too."
"Sorry, Mr. Mueller," Tilly jumps in, "but you're wrong on this one." She leans against the wall and casually puts her foot up behind her. "Back to Grandma. Was there actually a reason your wife thought he killed her?"
He shakes his head. "Other than she was a healthy woman in her sixties, and it was unusual that she just died in her sleep like that, no."
"It's not all that unusual, actually," Mel points out. "A lot of seemingly healthy people die of heart attacks or aneurysms in their sleep. If you figure a quarter to a third of our day is spent in bed—"
"Mel." Florence's voice behind me stops her.
"Why does Mom despise him so much?" I ask, letting out a long breath. I've wondered this for so long.
"One of her friends died in an accident when she was a teenager, about the same time your grandpa and his business partner were having differences. It was the business partner's daughter."
Mel reaches for Renna's hand and squeezes it. "You don't ever get over that."
Enough reliving everyone's trauma. This isn't helping. "Do you know anything about the ring that he talks about, Dad? It feels important."
He shakes his head. "No. Your grandfather was a womanizer, though. Your mom has always wondered if she has any half- siblings out there. I never heard anything about a woman from the war. But that—what your grandfather describes in his letter—that kind of thing happened everywhere."
"I assure you it was more traumatic for the woman than it was for him," Tilly says sourly. "Can you imagine if he had managed to track the poor soul down? I'm sure the woman went through enough trauma." Everyone murmurs their agreement.
"Did you ever talk to him after Mom cut him out of our lives?"
He avoids my eyes. "I gave him updates on you the first few years, but I didn't like misleading your mom."
"Besides the cameras, he also hacked into my phone and computer to track my purchases. It looks like he just tracked what books I bought, but it's still enough to freak me out."
"I'm with your mom. I'm glad the world is free of him, mieloji." He stands up. "I don't think she needs to know any of this, but I understand if you choose to tell her."
I shake my head. "Maybe I'll change my mind once this is all settled, but I agree with you."
"I'll take Mom out for lunch tomorrow so you can get into the house. I'll text you when we're getting ready."
"What if she doesn't want to go out?" I ask. Mom can get crabby and contradictory sometimes.
"Then I'll tell her we're meeting you and your new girlfriend. Then your mouthy friend can get in the house with Mel." He glances at Tilly, then turns to Mel. "The spare key is in the same place as always."
I walk him out.
When I turn around, Florence is by my side. "Are you okay?" she asks, talking my hand in hers and lacing her fingers with mine.
I nod mutely. I don't know if I am, actually—but I'm not going to lose it with everyone around.
Then Mel is by my side, pulling me into a tight hug. "Are you okay, sweetie?"
I close my eyes and breathe her in. "I'm fine," I say stiffly, pulling away from her. She knows that too much physical contact is hard for me. I reach for Florence's hand again.
"Do you want us to stay?" she asks gently.
"No," I say firmly. "You don't need to. I need to go to the property and go through the things in the safe there. See what's in there, try to make sense of the appraisals and supposed authenticity paperwork. You should go. Enjoy your evening together. You both work too much." It's one of the things Mel complains about all the time. She never has enough time with Renna outside of work.
"Are you sure? We could help."
I look at Renna for help. "I'm serious. It's not something you can help with. Go love on each other."
My smile must be convincing, because she nods. "Call us if you need anything. I don't like the idea of you being alone."
"The threat is gone, Renna. I'm fine."
"Go already, you lovesick fools." Tilly pulls Renna into a long hug. "I'll stay and make sure she's okay," she whispers.
After they've left, Florence stares Tilly down. "You can stay or go, but I'm not leaving her."
She raises an eyebrow. "I doubt it's in your contract to stay, darling. I'm her friend."
Florence releases a long breath. "I'm her friend, too," she says softly. "The contract be damned."
Tilly whistles. "Renna and Mel went out on a limb to save your sorry ass because of that contract."
I glance up at Tilly. "Don't blame her. She didn't ask for that shit." I sink into the couch.
Tilly bites her lip. "You're right. I'm sorry." She plops down on the couch next to me. "I'm worried about you, that's all." She leans against me and puts her head on my shoulder. "I'm allowed that, aren't I?"
I turn and brush her short red bangs out of her eyes. "Yes, you're allowed that. But you're not allowed to be mean to Florence because of it."
"I'm worried about you, too," Florence says, sitting on the other side of me. "Regardless of our relationship status—I'm worried about you, too," she repeats, squeezing my fingers.
Tilly leans forward and looks at her. "You don't have a relationship status."
"Yes, she does." I lean against the back of the couch, sighing in defeat. "It's complicated, but there's something." I elbow Tilly. "Are you jealous?"
I'm surprised when she lets out a long breath. "Not like that, no. But I lost Renna, and now I feel like I'm losing you, too."
"Nope." I shake my head. "Renna has room for you and Mel. I have room for both of you, too. For all of you."
"Good." She jumps up from the couch. "Are we going to the penthouse to see what's in the safe?"
"It's just some papers." I laugh. "You're welcome to come, but you might have more fun doing something else."
"I have a fun night at home planned with my vibrator, Josie. It won't mind if I'm late."
"Did you get the new one last week?" I ask. She was telling me how excited she was to try a new one she'd ordered.
She grins. "You have no idea. Maybe I'll get you your own as a celebration gift when this nightmare is over." Winking, she glances over at Florence. "We'll talk about it again when Miss Prim-and-Proper isn't around."
"Miss Prim-and-Proper has been single most of her adult life," Florence says wryly. "I'll bet you a quarter million that my collection is better than yours."
"Who gets to be the judge of this contest of yours?" she teases. "Josie hasn't seen my collection, but she's heard enough about it." She sighs softly. "I don't have money for a high-stakes gamble like that. Besides, if you're bragging about it, you probably have all the expensive stuff. You've got the cash for it."
I give Tilly a hard look. "You've got one more year. You're almost there."
"You're missing the point," she laughs. "I'm satisfied, trust me. I just can't compete with what she has. I'm not trying to compete with her."