Chapter 24
Before
A high-pitched whirring hummed in my ears. Raising my hands to cover them did little to drown out the sound. A man with sleek safety glasses and bulky gloves stood in front of Marmee’s crow fountain using a mechanical saw to dissect a sheet of wood into identical strips.
We’d arrived at the estate for Sunday brunch.
Oliver and Mr. Stewart stood beneath the stone archway, shaded from the sun, discussing written plans and an estimated timeline for the remaining projects.
In the past month, Mr. Stewart’s construction crew had reinforced the windows in the conservatory, inspected all the balconies for loose fasteners and railings, and begun renovations on the crow fountain out front.
Houses as beautiful and antique as Marmee’s required routine, specialized care.
As the men talked, I marveled at Oliver’s quiet confidence, the way he treated every person he encountered with kindness and respect.
I clung to these elements of his personality as proof Oliver was the man I’d fallen in love with, not the menacing person that Danielle and her mother described, but my own paranoid thoughts left me unsettled.
In the week that followed the funeral, I made it my mission to uncover everything I could about Danielle Schwartz. The similarities between us left me awestruck.
Like me, Danielle had suffered the death of a parent at a young age. Her father, an oil tycoon, died of a heart attack when she was only a toddler. She was raised by her mother, much like Marmee had taken on the sole responsibility of caring for me.
Which brought us to the next similarity: Both of us came from very wealthy families.
A quick Google search of the Schwartz family revealed Danielle’s generational wealth traced back to the 1920s.
Smart investments had only multiplied the family fortune, building it to where neither Danielle nor her mother had to work.
That didn’t deter Danielle from educational and career pursuits.
She attended some of the best private schools in the city, many of which I attended in different years.
After college, she used money from her inheritance to open an art studio, a place whose doors shuttered a few years ago, around the time her marriage to Oliver ended.
Danielle Schwartz, although wealthy, was far from a socialite, but I was still able to find a few photos from her wedding in some of her friends’ old albums on Facebook.
It was a small ceremony in the city where there were noticeably more people in attendance than at her funeral.
That was to be expected. It’s easier to come together for a happy event than a sad one.
A small bulldozer droned into the courtyard, the noise interrupting my thoughts. My nose itched from fresh pollen and drifting sawdust. I slipped behind Oliver, squeezing his shoulder as I passed, and entered the house, comforted by the quiet of the foyer, the slight chill in the air.
“Tippi, is that you?” Marmee called my name from the dining room where she sat sipping some Earl Grey tea. A satchel filled with papers sat on the table beside her. “Oh, good! I wanted to run some ideas by you about the wedding.”
It took everything in me not to groan. All we talked about was the wedding, it seemed. The topic bored me. My thoughts were consumed with theories about Danielle and Oliver, not that I could share my thoughts with anyone else.
Marmee raised her arm, showcasing the sapphire and diamond bracelet that dripped from her wrist. “I’d thought this would be the perfect Something Blue for the ceremony.”
“It would be beautiful,” I said, tension easing. Imagining myself dressed in white wearing Marmee’s jewels didn’t bother me.
“Only problem is, I can’t find the matching necklace,” she said, leaning back in her chair. She studied the bracelet more closely. “I remembered you borrowed it for one of your book signings. Do you still have it?”
Marmee was right. I’d worn the necklace to an out-of-state book event, but I could have sworn I’d returned it months ago.
“I’ll go through my jewelry box when I get home,” I said, sliding out the chair beside hers. “It’s probably still there.”
“Everything all right, my dear?”
“Fine.” I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to smooth the lines around my face. “I just keep thinking about how busy the next few weeks will be.”
“Busy and wonderful,” Oliver said, bursting into the room. He bent down to kiss Marmee’s cheek before taking the chair opposite me. “I’ve gone over everything with Mr. Stewart. Balconies are sound. New windows are installed. He’s promised the crow fountain will be restored by the end of next week.”
“Wonderful,” Marmee said. “I can’t thank you enough for taking the lead on this, Oliver.”
“It’s the least I can do.” He smiled at me from across the table. “We’ll both feel better knowing everything is squared away.”
“Before we eat, there is something I want to discuss with both of you.” Marmee leaned forward, slipping a manila envelope out of her satchel. “My lawyer typed these up, if you don’t mind taking a look.”
This wasn’t just any paperwork. It was a prenuptial agreement.
Marmee’s estate and riches went back generations on my grandfather’s side of the family.
Signing an ironclad agreement was necessary.
When I first told Oliver about it, he barely blinked an eye.
He understood the importance of protecting assets.
And as he told me time and time again, he was in this for me, not my money.
Of course, he’d failed to mention that his first wife was also worth a small fortune.
He’d never admitted to signing a prenup before, said he left the marriage with his car and little else.
In the wake of my conversation with Danielle, I’d started to question everything.
Whose version of the truth was to be believed? His or hers?
Oliver sat in silence for several minutes reading the documents. I held my breath, wondering if he’d stumble across some convenient error or have a sudden change of heart.
When Marmee handed him the pen, his hand didn’t shake. His signature was smooth and quick. The document essentially promised that, in the event of a divorce, he’d walk away with nothing, and he didn’t hesitate to sign. This gave me some reassurance.
“One step closer,” he said, sliding the document back to Marmee.
“One step closer,” I repeated.
She stacked the papers against the table and placed them back inside her satchel. “My lawyer will be returning to the house this week. That should get everything squared away in time for the ceremony.”
“Can’t wait,” Oliver said.
Mrs. Wilson entered the dining room carrying a fanny pack filled with Marmee’s medication. “Time for your shot.”
Marmee growled. “I’m sick of these damned things.”
“Want me to do it for you?” Mrs. Wilson asked.
“No. Better start bringing the food out. I’m about starved to death.”
Mrs. Wilson smiled and rolled her eyes as she wandered back into the kitchen.
Marmee was stubborn. She popped the cap off the needle and stabbed at the rubber top of her insulin vial.
Her hands shook as she pulled back the plunger.
She squinted to see whether the liquid had entered the barrel.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, it was getting harder for her to do these things without assistance.
“Let me help you,” Oliver said. She put up less of a fight with him than she did with Mrs. Wilson or me.
“Believe it or not, I used to do just fine on my own,” Marmee said.
“Of course, I believe you,” he said. “I’m happy to help. I need to earn my keep.”
Marmee pulled down her knit cardigan just below her shoulder. She ripped the corner off an alcohol swab and rubbed the liquid on her exposed flesh.
“May I?” Oliver said, holding the syringe still in his hands.
Marmee nodded. I watched as he plunged the needle into Marmee’s arm. She clenched her eyes only for a second before sighing in relief.
As I watched, I tried not to think about Danielle or her mother or the funeral. I erased those horrible thoughts from my mind and chose to focus on what was right in front of me.
The man of my dreams nurturing the most important person in my life.
“Not too bad?” he asked, standing.
“Didn’t feel a thing,” Marmee said, readjusting her cardigan. She looked at me and winked. “You’ve got a good one, Tippi!”
“I do, don’t I?”
Oliver walked over to my side of the table and ducked down for a kiss. Mrs. Wilson reentered the dining room carrying a steaming dish of quiche lorraine, the scent of savory filling and salty bacon peppering the air.
When we returned to the apartment, Oliver hopped in the shower. I wandered around the bedroom replaying a highlight reel from brunch—the fabulous food, the endless laughter—and felt at peace.
At every turn, it appeared Oliver was precisely the man I needed in my life. He wasn’t the monster Danielle had made him out to be; he was someone who cared about me deeply. He cared about my family. We were embarking on this new life together, and nothing would stop us.
As I was getting undressed, I sifted through my jewelry box, looking for the sapphire and diamond necklace Marmee had mentioned earlier. As expected, it wasn’t there. I’d always been good about returning her accessories, but with the whirlwind of the past few months, it could have slipped my mind.
I started sorting through the closet, seeing if I’d left it inside the zipper compartment of an old suitcase, when a nondescript black backpack fell from the top shelf, something of Oliver’s I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen.
The backpack was unzipped, sending the contents scattering across the floor.
I stuffed everything back into the bag: a change of clothes, an overnight toiletries bag, old gym sneakers.
When I got to the final item—a clear Ziploc bag—I froze.
A strange heat rose throughout my body. In the distance, I heard the pattering of shower water, the gentle hum of Oliver’s singing.
With shaking fingers, I picked up the Ziploc bag, examining the contents.
A vial of insulin medication. A four-pack of medical syringes.
And there were only three inside.