Chapter 24 #2
She must think I’m an idiot. Nothing is secret or sacred anymore.
People can find out anything about you. All your personal business is out there in the ether if you want to look for it.
Still, I didn’t think the connection between me and Alex was documented anywhere except with his lawyers.
It had to come from someone at Cheshire Lake.
Noah? He figured it out pretty easily. Does anyone else there know?
Why would Sunny tell anyone? Or maybe Liliana or Barry Staunton.
But who would gain anything by talking to the press about me?
Destiny leans toward me. “And now with a murder in the neighborhood. How is Alex taking it? Do you have any idea who might’ve killed Simon Harwood?”
“I have nothing to say.” I push myself away from the brick wall and walk briskly to my car.
Destiny follows me, still shouting questions that I barely comprehend.
My heart is beating in erratic thumps, and my hands shake as I dig through my purse for my keys.
I finally get into my car, and I think she’s going to put her hand on the door to keep me from closing it.
“Please, Emma. Just a few words for my article. Your story is so interesting and—” I slam the car door nearly catching her coat sleeve.
My emotions are all over the place as I drive toward Cheshire Lake.
Then I start my deep breathing. Is it really so bad that people know who I am?
It’s not something that can really stay hidden in the long run.
And there is going to be interest in the murder, especially it having occurred in Alex’s own neighborhood to a close family friend.
I’m just not used to this. My mother and I did everything we could to be invisible.
To keep to ourselves. We had friends, and I had a husband, but we never liked to be the center of attention.
And now I have a father who draws attention at every turn.
And I wonder again who would’ve told the reporter that I am Alex’s daughter. That I showed up after thirty-two years. I hope it wasn’t Noah. He said he wouldn’t tell.
The sun is starting to fall behind the trees as I drive into the entrance of Cheshire Lake. The air is gray and misty. Quiet seems to have settled over the neighborhood, and all that remains of the cops and their helpers are ruts in the ground from their vehicles on the sides of the small road.
The house smells like spaghetti sauce as I walk in. The lights are on, the foyer is warm. In the kitchen, Alex, whistling, stirs a pot on the stove, raps a wooden spoon on the side, and places it on a spoon rest.
“You’re just in time, Emma. Ruth brought over homemade sauce. I’m warming it up. Taking a break from work. You hungry?”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
“Should be ready in a few minutes. What have you been up to?”
I feel heat rush to my face. “Just went into town to pick up a few things.”
He nods and takes plates down from the cupboard.
“Alex?”
He turns, sets the plates on the table.
“A woman stopped me in town. She said she writes for an online magazine. She knew who I was.”
He puts a hand on his hip, sighs. “Well, that was sure to happen at some point. What did you tell her?”
“Nothing.”
“Did she ask about Simon?”
“Yes. But I didn’t tell her anything.”
“Good.” Alex drains the pasta, steam rising up from the sink.
“I told Sunny we needed to put together a press release about you. That way maybe you won’t run into any more nosey reporters.
About yourself anyway. I think we can get some good press out of it, actually.
Long-lost daughter reunited with her father.
Neither of them knew about the other because of circumstances. A happy story.”
“Who knew? Here, I mean.”
“Well, besides Sunny and my wife, Barry, Ruth, of course. That’s all I told.”
“Ruth?”
“Yes. She’s like family, Emma. I had to tell her.
” He frowns. “But it was no one else’s business.
I knew it would come out, but I wanted to make a formal statement before telling everybody.
We should’ve gotten ahead of it, though.
When Simon died, I just didn’t think to do it.
I’ll get Sunny on it tonight. No sense letting it go any longer.
And it will be some good attention in the midst of, well, Simon. ”
A press release about me. This is something, again, I hadn’t thought about. My father being a public figure, that makes me one by default, the last thing I ever wanted to be.
We sit at the small kitchen table and eat Ruth’s amazing spaghetti. Sunny declined to join us, which makes the meal more pleasant. Alex launches into his plans for his new book with almost giddy glee.
“I’m excited that this new book is set right here in New England.
I’ve had the idea for this story in the back of my mind forever.
As a kid I used to beg my mother to take me to Salem.
We’d walk those streets, visit the witch house.
God, I loved those Saturday afternoons. And now it’s the setting for my latest work and it’s ready to head out into the world. ”
“That’s got to be exciting, Alex, even if it is your twentieth book.”
“Hard to believe. Seems like it wasn’t all that long ago that I was a kid, running around Cheshire Lake.”
My gaze rests on the dumbwaiter on the wall opposite from where I sit. “It’s a cool place, the lake, these houses. You even have a dumbwaiter.”
Alex twists in his seat. “Yeah. I was fascinated with it growing up. My great-grandfather, who built Spencer House, wanted to have all the modern conveniences. So, among other things, he had a dumbwaiter installed. It starts in the cellar, goes through the kitchen, up to the second floor, and ends up in the attic. I used to play with it as a kid. Drove my parents nuts. I’d go down to the cellar and hoist up my plastic army men.
” Alex laughs. “One day I found a half-rotted dead rabbit in the yard and put it in the dumbwaiter. I’d opened the little door in the kitchen first. Myra, the housekeeper, was fixing lunch.
I can still hear her screams when the tray with the rabbit on it stopped in the kitchen. ”
I shiver thinking of the dead animal, and I wonder if anyone besides Alex thought it was funny.