Chapter 10 #2
I froze, the word echoing in my mind. Regret. The Museum of Regrets. It had been right in front of me all along. I straightened and turned to William. “I think I know where the Star of Everlight is.”
“Really?” William asked.
“Thanks for your help, Brexton.” I turned to leave.
William followed me to the door, then stepped out to examine the sign out front.
“Charlotte?” Brexton called before I stepped outside.
“Yeah?”
He hesitated again, then glanced behind me at the door, which shut behind William with a quiet click.
Once we were alone, Brexton focused on me again. “Based on the way you reacted earlier, I think we’re both aware of the person Dahlia liked.”
I stiffened. Apparently, I hadn’t held in my glare as successfully as I’d thought if Brexton had noticed my frustration with William.
“I’m not sure what happened between the two of you to make you so upset with him, but I just wanted to say he’s not the kind of man to betray someone he’s made vows to.”
“Did you hear what happened?”
He rubbed his chin. “Not exactly, but I know Dahlia, and I know how determined she could be. She wasn’t happy when she came back to town and found out Pastor Collins was engaged.”
His words blunted some of the anger inside me, not extinguishing it completely, but dulling the edges. Which only made room for something worse. Doubt.
It slipped in, heavy and cold.
“Do you think he’d hurt me?” I asked softly.
Brexton looked at me for a long moment. “Do you?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again before finally saying, “I don’t know.”
“Whatever you heard, I’m sure there’s more to the story than it seems,” he said. “So just make sure you get the story straight before you throw away something good.”
William poked his hand back through the door. “Are you ready, Charlotte?”
“I am.” I gave Brexton a long look, then nodded in thanks as I followed William outside.
Tessa’s words still played in my ear.
My brother saw Dahlia and Pastor Collins kissing three days ago.
Even if her brother was right, that didn’t mean Brexton was wrong. There could be more to the story. No, there had to be. After all, William wasn’t the kind of guy who would hurt someone willingly.
As Chiyo Obasan often said, trust was the accumulation of small stones. And I’d built my relationship with William on many of the small stones of his kindness, earnestness, thoughtfulness, and sincerity.
William didn’t offer me his hand as we stepped outside this time. Instead, it traced the cuff of his wool jacket over and over. The quiet stimming motion pierced my heart. For all the times William had told me I made him comfortable, now I was the reason he was upset.
Brexton had told me to get the story straight, but with William’s amnesia and Dahlia’s death, the truth slipped away like smoke from a candle.
And maybe chasing the truth was the safer choice, an excuse to stay guarded.
What I needed to do was trust in William, the sweet, sensitive man who’d done nothing but show how earnest and thoughtful he was this whole time.
As the Museum of Regrets came into view, William said, “You think the star is in there?”
“Yes.”
I looked both ways, then crossed the street, hurrying up the steps to the museum. I continued through the entry with the Twelve Regrets of Christmas sign, a big red bow on it to draw attention.
William opened the door for me. “You’ve looked upset since we left the Tea and Tarot, and I’d like to know why.”
I sucked in a breath but kept walking down the hall.
Here it was—the moment I had to choose. It would be so easy to slip back into the same habits I’d relied on for years: the ones that protected me but also left me lonely.
But it was time to move past that. I’d decided to trust William, so I couldn’t crumble at the first sign of trouble.
I had to believe that he had a reason for what happened, even if he couldn’t tell me now.
“It's nothing.” I gave him a brief smile.
He tentatively reached for my hand, his warm fingers brushing mine. “Are you sure? Because we can talk about it, whatever it is. I want to understand, and I won’t know if you don’t tell me.”
“I’m sure.” I smiled and wrapped my hand around the warm quill hanging from my neck even as I let go of my last bit of doubt.
With it, I let go of years of resentment and hurt.
“Tessa told me that she heard you and Dahlia were seen kissing the day before our wedding.” His mouth fell open, but before he said anything, I barreled on.
“But I decided that there must be more to the story and that I trust you.”
He blinked. “You do? Even after hearing all that?”
“I do.” I held out my hand in a silent invitation, and William smiled as he took it.
“I want to tell you what happened that night. But I’m glad you’re still here, even without the facts.” The affection shining in his hazel eyes warmed me. Loving people was a risk, but sometimes the biggest chances brought the deepest rewards.
It was time I stopped assuming the worst in people, especially men.
Yes, trusting people was a risk, but one I was finally willing to take—even if life didn’t unfold the way I’d planned.
William wasn’t perfect, but neither was I.
And I was done hiding myself away. It was time to face the truth, for myself, and for what happened to Dahlia.
We passed a present wrapped neatly with a bow with a tag that said To Dad that had never been opened. Maybe the father had never returned for the present. It sat next to a gingerbread house collapsed on one side.
A music box played half of “Silent Night” before it ground to a halt and started over, but I didn’t let myself get distracted. Once we turned the next corner, we ran into Mr. Ashford.
“Pastor Collins, Charlotte, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for a star.” I came to a stop next to him, my gaze resting on the item in the display across the hall. “That star, actually.”
“Is that the Star of Everlight?” William’s mouth fell open as he took in the star that glittered with gold.
Mr. Ashford’s eyes widened and he held up his hands. “I promise I didn’t steal it.”
“Of course you didn’t.” I opened the case, and the star hummed in my hands.
As I lifted it out, a shimmer of gold light rippled across its surface, and a warmth bloomed through my fingertips—like the moment before a wish comes true.
Magic. Faint, but unmistakable. “If you had taken it,” I said softly, watching the star catch the light like it knew I was looking, “why would you leave it glowing like this for everyone to see?”
“Then what is it doing here?” William asked.
“I think this star had something to do with Dahlia’s death.” I chewed on my lower lip. “I’m not positive, but I think so.” I turned to William. “Brexton said it himself that she mentioned the star before rushing off that night.”
“Why would it be here, though?” Mr. Ashford said.
“Well, like I said, it’s more a theory than anything, but the fact that the star went missing the same night as our wedding—the same night as the murder—reinforces it.
Plus, Dahlia said something about the star.
And you said it yourself that the museum calls regrets to it, so maybe the star wasn’t stolen at all.
Maybe it was drawn here because it’s tied to a regret.
” My words were as rambling as my thoughts while I tried to piece everything together.
William rubbed his scruff. “It’s a possible explanation that we shouldn’t rule out.”
“Meaning someone regretted what happened to Dahlia,” Mr. Ashford whispered.
“Do you think her death was an accident?” William asked.
“I don’t know, but we need to find out.” I frowned down at the star in my hand. “Accident or not, someone killed her and might have tried to frame you for it, so we can’t just let them run free through Austen Heights.”
“I think you’re right that Dahlia might have gotten mixed up in something she didn’t mean to,” Mr. Ashford said. “She told me she’d be back late that night, but then she didn’t come back at all, and the next thing I knew I was getting a call from the police.”
“Maybe she overheard a plot to steal the star or something about it, and that’s why she got killed,” I mused, thinking back on Chiyo Obasan’s explanation of how powerful the star was. Even for an Unmarked, it might still be a good target since it could probably be sold for a lot.
William traced a hand over the small plaque that sat beneath the space where the star had been. It read: For the light that was dimmed too soon. Not every constellation can last.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He glanced at me, then returned his attention to the plaque. “I’ve seen this handwriting before. It’s familiar. The same slant to the Rs and curls to the Cs. It matches the card that was found on Dahlia’s body and one of the signs from the Christmas market.”
Leave it up to William to notice those tiny details. He was always so attentive to things. It was one of his best qualities.
I met William’s eyes as the killer’s identity fell into place. “Then we can confront the killer tomorrow at the tree lighting ceremony.”