Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Present Day
I t was Christmas Eve on Nantucket Island. Estelle was in her office, watching snow flutter down outside, listening as Roland struggled to wrap the rest of his presents down the hall. Perhaps he'd never mastered the art because he didn’t have a creative bone in his body. It meant that his presents to Estelle were always crookedly wrapped and clumsy. Estelle didn’t mind. She equated messiness with love. Plus, Roland was a perfectionist in so many other capacities. It was nice to find a few flaws.
Estelle was finishing up some notes for her actual romance novel—the one about the lighthouse keeper. Obviously, she didn’t include anything about the Albright family in her notes. But she had decided to include a sinking ship and a lost inheritance—purely because it was all too good, story-wise, to pass up.
She was a writer, after all. She couldn’t resist.
But ever since Estelle’s trip to Manhattan, she hadn’t been able to get Penelope Albright and her near-confession out of her mind. As soon as she’d returned from that wild, exhilarating, and terrifying trip to New York, Estelle had reached out to her lawyer and told him her suspicions. She’d sent the file of her interview, too.
Now, her lawyer sent an email that read:
Dear Estelle,
I wanted to reach out to you regarding your suspicions about the Albright family and the sinking of La Boheme back in 1982. It’s a tricky situation and not one that I take lightly. After listening to the recording of your interview with Penelope Albright, I share your belief. The Albright children almost certainly had something to do with their father’s death. More than that, they’re well-versed in hiding it.
After doing a bit of digging, I found that Natasha Morceau fought twice more to have her daughter recognized as an heir to Roger Albright’s fortune. Each time, she was essentially laughed out of court.
It isn’t right.
But as your friend, I want to say this clearly. I do not recommend that you go to war with these people. They have incredibly powerful lawyers. They’ve thrown millions of dollars into hiding what they’ve done and are not afraid to throw more.
They’ve killed, and they aren’t afraid to kill again to protect their reputation.
Please, Estelle. Take a step back.
There are things in this world we cannot change.
I’m terribly sorry about that.
But I also looked into your other question—the one regarding the whereabouts of Travis Knight. I’m sorry to pass along more bad news.
Unfortunately, Travis Knight died earlier this year in a tragic car accident. He was living in Hyannis at the time, which may be why his wife was taken to the retirement facility nearby in Martha’s Vineyard. I spoke with a woman at the police station in Hyannis. She said that shortly after Travis’s accident, Vivian Knight plunged into darkness and stopped speaking. Prior to that, she lived a vibrant life; she was very involved in her community, and she loved Travis dearly. Despite being raised in France, she was a New Englander in every respect.
Vivian and Travis never had any children. She has no family nearby.
Her last remaining relative is her mother, Natasha. She’s located in Paris. I can give you her contact details if you like. Coincidentally, I’m friendly with her lawyer.
I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t help you more with the Albright family.
As always, I look forward to your next book.
Merry Christmas to you and yours,
Sheldon Martin
Estelle reread her lawyer’s email with tears in her eyes. Before she knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, running down the hall to burrow herself in her husband’s arms. Roland knew exactly what she needed. He held her as she cried and cried. When she was ready to talk, he listened as she spilled the entire story—explaining the lengths she’d gone to try to “make things right” for Vivian.
Roland didn’t speak until she was done.
It was an incredible story—one from 1982, the time after his father had gone.
Estelle prayed it wouldn’t upset him too much.
“You want her to have her inheritance?” Roland asked.
“I want her to have what’s rightly hers,” Estelle said. “I want her to be acknowledged by this evil family. And I want them to acknowledge what they did to Roger! I want them to pay!”
Roland shook his head ever so slightly. He took both of her hands in his. “We will help her with whatever she needs,” he said instead, his words quiet. “If it’s money she needs, we’ll give her that. If it’s care and friendship and love—we’ll give her that in spades.”
Estelle took a breath. Compassion echoed from her husband’s eyes.
All this time, she’d been looking for a valid ending to a complicated story. She’d been looking for justice. But the world wasn’t always a place where the good guys won and the bad guys lost. It was complicated, filled with ups and downs and sorrows and small joys.
Maybe it was up to Estelle to offer a little more joy for Vivian.
Perhaps it was up to her to bring Natasha back.
Maybe a mother’s love was all Vivian really needed—especially so soon after her husband’s death.
“I love you, Roland,” she said, pressing her face into his chest. She didn’t know what she’d do without him.
Later that evening, Oriana and Reese brought Chuck over for Christmas Eve dinner. Like Thanksgiving, Chuck planned to stay the night at Estelle and Roland’s. This time, Estelle hugged him extra long. He’d let her into his complicated past. He’d let her see him.
In front of the crackling fire, Estelle explained what she’d done—that she’d gone to Manhattan to talk to an Albright, that her lawyer had told her to back off.
“And I learned that Travis is gone,” she said quietly. “He died earlier this year. That’s what sent Vivian spiraling. My suspicion is that it’s related to hitting her head during the accident in 1982, but who knows?”
“The brain is a complicated thing,” he agreed somberly. His eyes were to the fire.
They listened quietly as Roland, Grant, Katrina, Oriana, and Meghan laughed about something in the kitchen.
Estelle still wondered what it was about that night in 1982 that had changed Chuck’s life. Would he ever tell her? Or would he keep that secret forever?
“I’m going to France in January,” Estelle said suddenly. It was as though a light bulb went off in her head.
Chuck raised his eyebrows.
“Natasha lives there,” Estelle said. The corners of her lips turned into a smile. “You think she’d be open to seeing me?” She paused. “Seeing us, I mean?”
Chuck laughed. “Don’t you think I’m too old to travel that far?”
“Who says you’re too old?” Estelle asked.
Chuck was contemplative. After a moment, he asked, “Do you think she knows about Vivian?”
“I don’t,” Estelle offered. “Otherwise, she’d be here, wouldn’t she? She’d be by Vivian’s side?”
Chuck nodded. “She hardly left her side after the accident.”
“She only left to fight for her rights in court,” Estelle remembered.
“She was a wonderful mother,” Chuck said quietly.
“I can’t imagine that love has changed in the slightest,” Estelle said.
Chuck’s face broke into a wide smile. “Let’s do it,” he said softly. “Let’s go to Europe and find Natasha!”
Chuck and Estelle clasped hands. Estelle felt as though they were on a wild adventure together. Her heart felt open.
Even if she couldn’t pin the blame on the Albrights, she was doing what she could to save Vivian and Natasha. It was all she had left.