Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The next morning, Dahlia settled into her worn bucket seat, waiting for the bank to open so she could finally retrieve the contents of the box. She nursed a latte, her eyes glued to the gold key on her dashboard, while she counted the minutes until she could go in.
Dahlia couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Lil could have been her grandmother, and all these years said nothing. Not even on her deathbed. Dahlia wanted to feel something besides betrayal—she wanted an explanation.
She rolled the window down while she waited. The town was quiet for a weekday, but it was also a summer Friday on the North Fork. The air was crisp and fresh, inviting Dahlia to find the silver lining. She could hear the landscapers already at work, gearing up the mowers for a full day ahead.
She pondered what Kara had said about feeling like herself here.
This town and its people made her feel whole and, more importantly, healed.
But she couldn’t let herself go there until she knew what was in that box.
She rested her head on the doorframe, closed her eyes, and wondered if Noah would respond to her call and text from this morning asking if they could talk.
It was her second attempt, and most likely her last.
How could she stay if he didn’t want her there? She was now doubting everything they had shared, starting with that first day in the barn. Although she never claimed to be an expert in relationships, she knew one simple thing: If he wanted to work it out, he would.
She wanted to call Kara too. But after last night, she couldn’t. She should never have told Kara the truth about Aunt Cathy trying to keep Dahlia and Kara apart.
The truth was, there was a small part of Dahlia that was so used to grieving alone, and in some sick and twisted way, she felt like she deserved it.
The clock read 8:46. Fourteen minutes until she could finally piece together the remains of her complex family tree.
A ringing sound came from her seat cushion.
She quickly glanced at the number, and her stomach dropped.
It was a FaceTime from Daisy. She couldn’t see her like this.
There were too many questions Dahlia still couldn’t answer.
She rubbed her forehead and debated letting it go, but instead threw on her sunglasses and ran her fingers through her unkempt hair.
“Hi, Daisy girl,” Dahlia said, moving her face toward the light.
“Mom.” Daisy looked serious.
“Yes.” Dahlia felt the blood drain from her face.
“Are you dating Noah Sterling from Hamptons House?”
“What?” Dahlia stuttered. “Where did you …?”
“From Page Six.” Daisy’s eyes widened.
“How? You’re in France?”
“My friends sent me the link. The internet is everywhere, Mom.” Daisy sighed with exaggeration. “How could you think I wouldn’t see it?’
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it, Daisy. I’m just trying to live my life and be happy for a change.”
“Does Dad know?” Daisy’s voice lowered to a slow, incriminating tone.
“He does.” Dahlia cleared her already raw throat. “But the papers are signed, and it’s officially none of his business,” she said calmly. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about Noah myself.”
Daisy huffed and looked off.
“Say something,” Dahlia said, wishing deeply that she could reach through the phone and hug her daughter. “Please.”
“I’m happy for you. You deserve to find someone who treats you with the respect you deserve. Dad was a horrible husband. But for the love of God, could you find someone your own age?” She shook her head, causing her bun to fall over. “I’ve been in panic mode all morning.”
“Daisy, we’ve just been spending time together. Last I checked, that was okay.”
“Well, if I’m being honest, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Daisy grumbled. “Plus, he’s a reality star. I mean, Mom, you don’t even watch that stuff. What could you possibly see in him or have in common?”
Everything, absolutely everything, she thought.
There was a dagger now piercing her heart.
Being misunderstood was her Achilles heel.
“He lives next door, and he’s been helping me with the house.
Listen, I’m not going to argue with you.
You have every right to feel the way you do.
But I’m a grown woman, Daisy. And I’ve taken care of everyone else through the years but myself.
This is my time. And if he makes me happy, then so be it.
” Dahlia pursed her lips, owning her words for the first time.
She didn’t want to drag Daisy into the mess, which ironically was about her.
“I wasn’t looking. Trust me, finding a boyfriend was the last thing on my mind.
I mean, heck, I took the job in Charleston. ”
“Boyfriend? Job? What?” Daisy’s eyes widened.
Dahlia inhaled before answering. “I told you I was looking for a job.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I found one at an upscale gallery off King Street. Are you okay with that?”
“I don’t know. I mean, what, is he going to move with you?”
“God, no. I don’t know.” Dahlia’s posture shifted. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Then you’re just going to leave him?” Daisy flailed her hands.
“I don’t know.” Dahlia shook her head. “It’s complicated. I don’t even know what he wants past the summer. I’m just having fun. And all I know is I deserve to have a little.”
Dahlia was now past empty; there was no more energy for show and tell. Not about the secrets shared between two sisters, not about Gene, not about the key she’d finally found. And certainly not that she’d fallen hard and fast for a younger man.
“I’ve gotta go anyway,” Daisy said with a pinched expression.
“Love you.”
“You too. Bye.”
If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Dahlia felt like she was dodging bullets from every angle.
She knew she should feel more guilt over upsetting Daisy.
But she didn’t. And for that reason alone, she sighed and looked out the window.
It was as if someone opened the door to possibility the minute she arrived at Lil’s, and she willingly walked right through it.
She was proud of herself for that, at least. No matter what happened with Noah, she had no regrets.
Finally, the bank employee was outside putting the bank sign on the curb. She took a swig of summer air and opened her car door. It was now or never.
“Good morning,” she said, feeling her insides toss like an overloaded washing machine. This was it. So much was riding on this moment.
“Beautiful day.” He held the door for her. “What can I help you with today?”
“I have a safe deposit key. I would like to open my aunt’s box.”
“Do you have the paperwork?”
“No, I don’t. Just a number. Is that a problem?” Dahlia asked the gray-haired, stocky man named Jim.
“I’ll have to see your license to ensure you’re a co-owner.”
Co-owner? Her posture caved as she slid him her license. Of course, it was another setback. Please, please, she prayed. If I don’t see what’s in that box, I’ll …
“Let’s see here. Lily Prescott. And you’re …” He looked at the license. “Dahlia Newberry.” He looked up. “Someone liked flowers, didn’t they?”
Chills ran up her spine. “Yeah, and my mother’s name is Rose.” We were named after the flowers in Lil’s garden.
Suddenly, she wasn’t mad or powerless. She was heartbroken. Heartbroken for a life Lil had felt she needed to hide.
“Hold on.” He typed away. “Almost there.”
Dahlia held her breath.
“Yup, you’re on here.”
Dahlia exhaled. “Wonderful.” Inside, she was a bundle of tightly wound nerves. This was it, just a few more minutes until the truth would set her free.
He passed her a card. “Just sign and we’re all set.”
She signed her name and slapped the pen against the hard surface.
“You can follow me.” He waved her down a bright and narrow hallway. “I’ll need to open it with you, with my key.”
Dahlia followed him, squinting as her mind ran wild. What if Lil’s reason wasn’t good enough? What did she want to hear? That Lil lied because she had no other choice? Yes, that was what she wanted to hear.
They scanned the wall of metal for the number 222 and spotted it right in the middle. They entered their keys simultaneously, and it opened. She breathed a sigh of relief. If that wasn’t the key, she may have gone a lifetime without knowing what was inside.
She followed Jim down the hall into a private room. He set the box on the counter-height table, and Dahlia thanked him. Once he left, she unlatched the clasp and lifted up the top.
There was a stack of black-and-white composition books with a letter addressed to Dahlia on top.
Her journals. Her eyes widened, remembering Lil writing in these books when she was a kid.
She presumed it was just daily reminders, recipes, or garden notes.
An image popped into her mind of Lil in the pantry, with her lilac handkerchief wrapped around her head, sitting on the sill, writing in one of these books.
The pulse in her neck quickened as she pulled the contents from the box.
Dahlia walked down the hospital-like hallway, hearing the squeak of her soles against the vinyl tile.
Her sweaty palms gripped the cardboard covers, and her chest pounded as she walked to her car.
This was the moment she’d anticipated from the instant she found Lil’s first communication from beyond the grave.
The veil was about to be lifted, and all the pretexts revealed.
Dahlia opened her car door, pushed back her seat, and slid her fingers under the envelope flap.
There were two folded sheets of paper inside.
With unsteady hands, she opened the official-looking one with the embossed seal first. She gasped.
It was her mother’s original birth certificate from 1956.
It read mother: Lily Ann Prescott, and father: Gene Frank Obermann.
Under the child’s name, it read Rose Ingrid Obermann.