Chapter 35 Helena
I had no idea how I managed to actually make it back to the table where Edward was waiting for me, but it must have been my Weston genes.
They were what stopped me from telling him, directly and unequivocally, that I wanted to go home—or simply socking it to him every time he made some stupid remark.
They held me back, too, from making it clear to him that I would be taking a cab home alone, or from going over to Jess’s table to tell him that I wanted him, and no one else, my family’s rules be damned.
But when Edward dropped me off at my door, and I crossed the foyer to the elevator, I suddenly felt so empty and sad, as if the evening had sucked every spark of life out of my body.
I was already bracing myself on the way up for my parents’ questions—I might have survived the dinner, but I was still home early. But it was dark when I reached the apartment; nobody was home. My parents had obviously gone out without telling me.
I stood in the hall for several moments, trying to get my emotions under control. The disappointment, the anger, the loneliness. I had wanted to come back to New York so I wasn’t so cut off from everything anymore. But here, now, I felt more alone than ever.
For one crazy moment I thought about getting in a taxi and driving to the West Village, to Jess.
But right away I knew that was completely out of the question.
No matter how we felt about each other, and what might have come of it, it was impossible.
I’d known it the whole time, but only really understood it today.
It might have worked if we’d given everything up, absolutely everything.
But neither of us was built for that. We couldn’t abandon the people who meant something to us.
I climbed the stairs in darkness, took off my fancy clothes and threw on my pajamas, went to the bathroom to take off my makeup, and crawled into bed.
It was only just after ten, but I had no energy to reply to birthday messages or even watch TV.
I felt paralyzed, totally numbed out by the realization that my life didn’t belong to me anymore.
At the hotel my hand had been forced, but today I’d walked away from Jess all on my own.
And it felt so final I couldn’t breathe.
My throat closed up when I thought about us together in that storage room, about our words and his sad smile. And about what he’d whispered to me before he’d left.
Happy birthday, Fair Helen. Perhaps the stars will align for us in another life.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said softly. Then I turned out the light, curled into a ball, and cried myself to sleep.
The next morning my eyelids felt heavy as lead, and I wondered if I could fake an illness and stay in bed, at least just for today. My first class was in an hour, but I hadn’t been the most diligent student since I’d gotten back, and I didn’t really care whether I made it or not.
My phone lay next to me on the blanket, showing several new messages. A lot of them birthday wishes from people in Cambridge, or various relatives. But one message in particular caught my eye—it was from Malia. I wasn’t expecting her to reach out so soon after our conversation yesterday.
I opened the chat and held my breath as I read what she’d written.
I checked Val’s financial records. I had to dig around a bit, but there was a debit. 10k three days before she died. Funnily enough, before that there was a wire transfer into her account for the exact same amount.
A wire transfer? From who? I texted back, hoping she’d respond quickly, even though her message had arrived close to midnight. But as luck would have it she was online, and started typing.
Lincoln’s personal account. You should ask him what she was planning to do with it.
My brother had wired Valerie the money? I wondered why he would need to do that. My sister earned enough from her brand collabs to be able to withdraw ten thousand dollars without having to get help from Lincoln. Didn’t she?
Any idea why he gave it to her? She had enough money of her own.
Yeah, but in other accounts. If you ask me, she wanted to stay under the radar. I only found this account because I remembered she told me about it once. It was for emergencies.
An emergency account. I furrowed my brow; I’d never heard anything about it.
Sorry I was so horrible yesterday, Malia continued. I had a shitty day and you caught me at the wrong moment.
Relief washed over me.
I know the feeling. And I’m sorry too. I know you’d tell me the truth about Valerie. Thank you for your help, Malia.
Her reply was swift.
Anytime. She followed this with a video of two hamsters singing “Happy Birthday,” and I laughed, although I didn’t really feel like it.
My sister had had a secret account, and my brother had clearly given her money for something no one was supposed to know about.
Did he know what she’d been planning to do with it?
Whether she had asked Carter for those extras at her engagement party?
I’d have to ask him. And not on the phone, but face-to-face.
As soon as possible.
Elizabeth Street Garden was one of my favorite spots in New York City.
A lot of people didn’t even know it was there, this green space in Lower Manhattan between Elizabeth and Mott Streets—it was open to the public but somewhat hidden behind the high hedges and nondescript wire netting.
But as soon as you found the entrance, it opened onto a little green oasis in the middle of the city, with verdant trees, blooming flowers, and a quaint collection of statues.
I sat on a bench at the periphery waiting for my brother, but as I looked around, my nerves started to calm a little. I loved this little park.
Sometimes they held small concerts or private parties here, and when I first came with Valerie years ago, I’d said to her that it would be the perfect wedding venue.
She’d laughed and wished me luck discussing the subject with our parents one day.
But I was adamant: if I was ever going to get married, it would be here. No matter what anyone thought about it.
My brother appeared at the park entrance, and I stood up, giving him a quick wave.
He had an appointment in the area, he’d told me, and wanted to see me on his lunch break, so I’d suggested we meet here. He didn’t know why I wanted to talk to him, though—I was planning to catch him off guard with Malia’s discovery.
“Hey, Len.” He greeted me with a hug and handed me a slightly crumpled gift bag. “Happy birthday, little sister. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to stop by yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I gave a little smile and took the bag from him, sitting down again to open it. Beneath a layer of tissue paper lay a rectangular wooden object. I lifted it out with both hands, and my breath caught in my throat when I realized what it was.
“Lincoln, this… this is…”
“Valerie’s antique music box.” He nodded. “I knew it was one of her favorite things, and when Mom and Dad gave all her stuff away, I sort of… saved it. I should have given it to you as soon as you got back, but I was afraid it would upset you too much. So I kept it till now.”
I opened the lid of the filigree box. Tears welled up in my eyes as the delicate notes of The Nutcracker began, and I watched the ballerina figurine pirouetting on the spot in her red dress.
Valerie had loved the Tchaikovsky ballet and she had discovered this music box one day in a little antique shop in Brooklyn. It had been really special to her.
“Thank you.” I put the box carefully down on the bench next to me and gave my brother a tight hug. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“That’s okay.” He smiled bashfully before looking at me in earnest. “How are you, Len? Are you coping okay?”
When he said that, the first thing that came to my mind was Jess.
Especially here, in this garden, a part of New York he might even appreciate.
I’d have loved so much to show him this little corner of the city, just like all my other favorite spots, but it was never going to happen.
The pain of that squeezed all the breath out of me for a second. I tried not to let anything show.
“Yes,” I said a little hesitantly. I couldn’t tell my brother what was going on. He couldn’t know I was missing Jess. “I’m coping fine. Although…”
“Although what?”
I took a deep breath, focusing on the reason I’d asked him here. “Well, I’ve been asking around. About Valerie, and the night she and Adam died. And something came up that I need your help with.”
Lincoln’s eyes narrowed. “Okay.” He didn’t ask why; presumably he could imagine. “What can I do?”
“You can tell me why you wired ten thousand dollars to her emergency account shortly before she died.” I tried to make it sound harmless, but my voice was shaking.
My brother gazed at me in disbelief. “You know about that? How?”
“Malia helped me out.”
He gave a curt nod. “Under no circumstances are you to tell Mom and Dad anything about this,” he said, and made me swear. “If they knew Val had a secret account to hide funds from them, they’d only think she was involved in something shady.”
“So she wasn’t?”
“Of course not.” Lincoln shook his head.
“She only had the Caymans account so she could support projects that weren’t supposed to be connected with the Weston name—so as not to upset Mom and Dad.
Bypassing bureaucracy to help victims of domestic violence, advising women on abortions, things like that. ”
My eyes widened, and a chill crept up my back. “So… she had an abortion? Is that what the money was for?”
“No!” Lincoln shook his head vehemently.
“No, she wasn’t pregnant. The money she asked me for was for a friend of hers.
Valerie said he needed it urgently; his accounts were all under surveillance by his family.
She didn’t want to send the wire herself, since she was being audited by her accountant at that time.
So she asked me to cover it. Then she gave it to her friend in cash. ”
I was relieved, though it didn’t help me any further. “Do you know what he wanted with it?”
“Not exactly, I’m afraid, but it seems it was something to do with a bank loan that went overdue because the installments weren’t paid on time. It must have been pretty serious.”
I did a mental tally of Valerie’s male friends and came up with a few names who might have made that kind of request. Carter wasn’t one of them, though—his family didn’t care what he wasted his money on.
So my next task was to talk to the possible candidates, to try to confirm that Valerie hadn’t given the money to Carter.
“Why does it matter what the money was for, anyway?” Lincoln asked.
I lowered my gaze. “Carter Fields told me she used it to buy drugs from him,” I said very softly. “He sent one of his dealers to the suite, and Adam sent him away. Carter said it had been Valerie’s idea.”
“And you believe him? Carter, of all people?” Lincoln laughed bitterly.
“The guy lies every time he opens his mouth, especially if it’s to save his own neck.
He lied back then too, when he was asked about that night.
He split an hour after the party started—said his grandma wasn’t well.
When in fact he was in a suite at the Mandarin Oriental with five prostitutes, and probably a mountain of coke. ”
Suddenly, I was ashamed of myself for giving any credence to what Carter had said. I knew Valerie hadn’t wanted anything to do with any drugs. I should never have allowed that idiot to make me doubt her.
“Yeah, I know he’s a liar. I think I was just afraid that there might be some truth to it.”
“We don’t know what happened,” Lincoln reminded me.
“And I know you want to get to the bottom of it, Len. But finding out who she gave the money to isn’t going to bring Valerie back.
Neither is proving she didn’t ask for the drugs.
” He looked at his watch and swore quietly.
“I have to go; my next meeting is in twenty minutes. Do you want to come with? We can drop you at home.”
“No, I’ll stay a little while.”
“You sure it’s okay to leave you?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m fine.” I smiled.
“Okay.” He gave me another hug. “Take care of yourself, Len. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you. And thanks again, Linc.”
My brother said goodbye and headed toward the exit.
After he’d gone, I placed the music box on my lap and opened it, watching the ballerina, listening to the melody.
I was desperate not to let Valerie down.
I wouldn’t give up, no matter what I found out.
Not as long as there was still a chance to clear her name. I would carry on.
Until the end.