Chapter 18
“This door,” Amayah said to the camera, adjusting the frame, “once belonged to a man who had everything the world defines as success. Wealth. Influence. Recognition. He could have anything he wanted . . . except peace.”
The words echoed faintly in the frozen air.
She glanced briefly toward Luke as he stood a few paces away, hands tucked into his coat pockets, expression unreadable.
“The man who owned this home once told an interviewer, ‘I gained the world and lost my soul inside it.’ He spent a lifetime climbing toward more, only to discover that what matters most cannot be bought—”
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
The Crump kids drifted through her mind. Their hungry eyes. Their threadbare coats.
She hadn’t been able to get those kids out of her mind.
“Sometimes,” she continued, “a door doesn’t reveal what we want. It reveals what we lack.”
She stopped the recording.
Silence settled.
These videos never failed to teach her a lesson also. That was why she insisted on digging deeper.
This was never about simply finding a door and doing a fluff piece. She usually researched the doors, the buildings, the people who’d walked over the thresholds.
Whose lives had been changed by the decisions they made.
She wanted something that covered more than the surface.
It was who she was. It was who she’d always been.
She glanced at Luke again and sensed something inside him was at war. She just wasn’t sure what.
Did this have something to do with his adoption? Was he still struggling with forgiveness for the secrets his parents had kept?
The holidays could bring out all kinds of emotions. She knew that better than anyone.
She took a step closer to him, studying his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just . . . thinking.” He didn’t meet her eyes.
A strange ache unfurled in her chest.
Was it foolish to hope he’d feel something between them too? Maybe she’d imagined all of it.
Maybe this was better. Distance was safer. Less complicated.
Still . . . part of her wished he wasn’t pulling away.
Should I simply let him build this imaginary wall? Or should I try to find out what hurts he’s trying to hide?
She wasn’t sure about the answer.
But in a few minutes she would drive him back to his car, so she needed to decide soon.
Luke’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen.
Linda.
He needed to take this.
He excused himself from Amayah and stepped toward her car to answer.
“You’re still digging into Amayah, right?” she demanded.
“I just wrapped up another part of my interview.”
“And?”
And . . . he still had no idea which direction to take.
“She’s not what you think,” he said quietly as he paused near Amayah’s car. “She doesn’t see herself as some saint. She’s just . . . living her conviction.”
“No one’s that sincere, Luke. Don’t get caught in the glow. Your job is to expose. Keep pressing—or start polishing your résumé.”
His résumé? She meant the words, didn’t she?
If he didn’t deliver with this article, then he’d lose his job.
Where would he go from here? So many papers were hurting now—or shutting down.
Was this career even for him? Maybe he should have gone into law enforcement like his dad had encouraged. There would always be a need for cops.
But that wasn’t where his passion lay.
“So?” Linda asked. “What’s it going to be?”
Luke clenched his jaw. “I’m working on it.”
There were other influencers he could interview, he reminded himself. Why was Linda obsessed with Amayah?
There were social media personalities out there who truly were fakes, who were out for themselves. Maybe he could track down one of them.
“Find out her secret,” Linda continued. “That’s the key to this article. See if you can get her to open up and admit that she’s purchased some real estate for herself. She probably secretly takes lavish vacations. Has impressive investment accounts. She probably doesn’t even like doors that much.”
Since when had Linda become so jaded? At one time, she was an amazing journalist.
Now she simply sounded like someone with a vendetta.
Or was he the one who was blinded?
Just as he realized Linda had ended the call, Amayah’s voice floated from behind him. “Luke?”
He turned toward her., quickly hiding his phone as if it might reveal his conversation. “Yes?”
“Listen, I was thinking of picking up a few things at the mall for the Crump kids.” Her eyes softened. “Coats. Shoes. Food. They clearly need more than a borrowed paper towel roll.”
His heart tightened. That was a wonderful idea, one he’d considered himself.
She tilted her head as she stared up at him. “Any chance you’d like to come with me? I know you have work to do, but I’d love some company. Maybe some more interview questions will come to mind while we shop.”
“You want me to go shopping with you?”
She smiled and nodded. “I do. For the Crump kids.”
Something settled inside him—heavy and certain. He’d been determined to keep his distance from Amayah, yet he couldn’t seem to resist her either. He especially couldn’t resist an idea that was so selfless.
His work could wait.
Or maybe this would be his opportunity to find out more information.
Whichever truth he allowed himself to believe meant he could go.
“I’d like that,” he finally said.
For the briefest moment, the distance between them felt manageable again.
Luke was suddenly aware of two truths at once.
He should be preparing for an interview that could save his job.
And he was instead choosing a path that felt terrifyingly right.