Chapter 19
Vaughn
I stumble back to Matteo’s truck, numb.
“Bro,” Matteo says when I get inside and close the door. “Are you all right? What’s going on? You and Claire?” He’s just as stunned about the idea of it as I was, and now I’m more confused than ever—more shocked than I could imagine. The only thing inside her coat pocket was a picture of her and her mother. There were no stolen accounts. She just found a picture of her and her mother together and she wanted to keep it and what did I end up doing? I ripped it out of her pocket like a caveman all because I assumed—I assumed she was just like Libby.
Even when she told me over and over again she was nothing like her.
“Whose house was that? On that mountain?” Matteo asks as he starts driving.
“That place…it was, it was Libby Radcliffe’s…” I sigh, hating the fact I have to say any of this shit out loud. “It was Libby’s and my father’s.”
Matteo slams on the brakes and the truck skids along the icy blacktop. “What?” he asks, incredulously. “Are you serious? Your father and her mother? They were still together after all these years?”
I run my hands down my face. “I don’t know if they carried on the affair for this long or it was something that rekindled in recent years, but Libby lived in that house and all my father’s things were there. Current pictures of them together. His clothes. It was unsettling to see it all, for both of us.”
“How did you find out about it? And what did Libby have to say for herself about all this?”
“Libby’s dead. Suicide,” I say, drawing out a long breath. “And the house was my inheritance. At the reading of his will me, my mother, and Chloe were all given envelopes that were supposed to be even parts of his estate. Only they weren’t. He gave away his fortune to charity in my mother and Chloe’s name, and I got the deed to the house that Libby lived in.”
“That’s unreal,” he whispers.
“Why would my inheritance be the deed to the house he shared with his mistress? The mistress who was also the mother to the one person who…”
“The one person who what?” He glares at me. I don’t understand his expression. Maybe I’m just too exhausted and confused to think straight about any of this right now. “How does Claire fit into all this? What did she say about it?”
“Claire was just as surprised as I was, and she hadn’t seen her mother in over five years. She was up there packing her mom’s stuff. Your mother was there, Claire said she let her in.”
“My mother knew about it, damn. No wonder we’re so fucked up and have such questionable morals,” he laughs.
I laugh alongside him.
Thing is, it’s not funny, not at all. And I don’t know why I’m laughing.
“Look, don’t say anything to anyone about this, please. I need to figure some things out,” I breathe.
“Yes, sure,” he says, moving the gear shift into drive again. “But let me get this straight, because I don’t understand. Your father left your mom and Chloe nada, and you get a picturesque mountain house? Did he leave anything to Libby or Claire?” The streets are empty as he drives, and it starts to snow again.
For some reason my gut tells me not to say anything about any secret offshore accounts my father might have had. There’s no way to know for sure if they’re real or not, right now the only thing I know for sure about them is that some stranger who has Libby Radcliffe’s phone thinks there might be accounts. God only knows if that’s that truth. “No. No one got anything but me.”
“You mean he left no money for his family? At all?”
“There’s nothing, nothing but a house where love once lived,” I whisper to myself. I can’t help not caring about the money or the house or any of it. All I can think about at this moment is Claire and all the things I accused her of doing and being. Did I just lose the only person I ever loved?
Matteo tries to keep asking questions, but I can’t listen any longer. “Just give me a minute, Matt, please. I need to just sit here in silence and try and get my thoughts together, okay?” I turn my back on him without waiting for his answer and stare out the window. He makes a garbled noise and I know I’ve offended him, but he’s not my priority right now, he’s got nothing to do with any of this. It’s not even his family.
What the hell did I just do to Claire? Could this be the end? Will I ever see her again? Will she ever forgive me for thinking the worst of her? And if she could ever forgive me, then what? Will I ever be able to stop thinking the worst of her when things are questionable?
Forty minutes later, Matteo, still annoyed with me, pulls onto my mother’s estate and parks right in front of the entrance. I know he’s not trying to be a dick, but he really could have parked the car on the side of the house, where no one could see I was back. But no, he pulled right in front and now Chloe is out of the front door, hugging her arms around her torso shivering and yelling at me, all full of concern.
Jesus, really?
“She’s been worried about you. Where have you been? Why did you leave without telling us? Mom isn’t doing well. Why would you leave me all alone to handle her like this?” Chloe sounds like a petulant child. “Vaughn, seriously,” she yanks me back by the sleeve as I walk through the door. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
I keep walking inside, searching the foyer. Matteo slips in the house after me and closes out the cold.
“Where is she?” I whisper in Chloe’s direction.
“In bed, full of Valium,” Chloe mumbles back.
“Come on, let’s go into the library where no one can hear anything,” I say, leading the way. Matteo follows behind us. I want to tell him to give us a moment, or at least some space, but I can tell he’s still annoyed with me and I know he’s only trying to be there for us, so I choose not to send him away. He’ll find out everything soon anyway.
When we get into the library Matteo locks the door behind us and I know it was a good choice to let him stay because he could be our lookout, in case he hears my mother or any of the help.
“Dad left me a house,” I blurt, facing Chloe.
“He left you a house? And I got nothing?” Her face turns ashen.
“Just listen,” I say, holding up a hand to stop her, “before you go off on one of your self-loathing, ‘poor me’ tantrums. I went to the house.” I sit down on one of the reading chairs and motion for Chloe to do the same. “It’s a mountain cabin, right out of a Hallmark holiday movie, beautiful. But when I got there, someone was already there.”
Chloe slides to the edge of the chair. “Cut to the chase, Vaughn. What happened? Who was there?”
“Claire.” I whisper her name because I want to hold in inside my mouth and savor it. I don’t want to share it with anyone, just like when we were children.
“Claire? I don’t know anyone named—” she cuts her thought short.
“Claire Radcliffe,” I say.
Chloe jumps to her feet, hands tightened into little fists at her sides. “What was Claire Radcliffe doing at the house Daddy left you?” Her mouth drops open, her jaw goes slack. “Are you telling me…please do not tell me Claire was doing anything with—”