Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I swallowed my emotions and repeated, “Do we have a key?”
“We might,” she said.
I resisted the urge to demand more. If she was willing to tell me what she knew, she would have already. It was driving me crazy. I was dying to know how she thought we were going to get into safe deposit box 42001 without a key.
I’ll admit I was a little curious about what might be inside. Only a little, though. I knew that the second Sterling had her money, she’d walk away, and I’d never see her again. If I thought I could get away with it, I would have offered her a bigger cut just to spend time with me, to give me a second chance. But I had a feeling a move like that would only play into every misconception she had about me. Paying for her company wasn’t the way to win her back. It might just be the way to drive her off for good.
My thoughts ran in circles as we drove. How were we going to get in the box? What had my father hidden there? What if the number didn’t refer to a box? Then what?
And the thought most often on repeat: How could I keep Sterling with me long enough to prove I was worth another chance with her?
Getting her to look at me for longer than a second would be a start.
I didn’t come up with any answers in the three hours it took us to get to Willow Springs. I thought I’d recognize the town when we pulled in, but too much had changed since I’d lived there. We passed strip malls packed with chain stores, gas stations, and, finally, a supermarket. When I was a kid, we’d driven to the next town over for groceries and gas. Willow Springs had grown while I’d been away.
Nothing seemed familiar until we turned, and I saw the brick buildings lining Main Street, their black shutters and old-fashioned awnings exactly as I remembered. We drove by the big, square park at the center of town, a bronze statue of the town founder in the center. Bittersweet nostalgia struck at the flashes of memory. Going to the library across the square and picking out my own books. Getting ice cream at the shop by the park and eating it on the benches with my dad.
For just a second, I could taste the sweet, cold ice cream, and hear the rumble of my father’s voice. Then I popped back to the present, to Sterling sitting beside me, trying to pretend I didn’t exist. I let out a short sigh. I’d been living a good life until I decided to go chasing after my father’s lost statue. Since then, it seemed like I’d made one bad decision after another. My job at the inn was the only thing that hadn’t been a mistake. When it came to my personal life, I couldn’t seem to get anything right.
I followed the GPS down Main Street to a left turn onto East Eagle Street. The bank was on the corner. It was go time.
I didn’t remember the bank from my childhood, but it looked like every other small-town bank I’d ever seen. Brick, white columns, two stories. I pulled into a spot and turned to look at Sterling. Her teeth cut into her lower lip—her only outward sign of worry. Otherwise, she was cool perfection. Feeling my eyes on her, she straightened in her seat, her mouth relaxing, and her mask of perfection fell into place once again.
For a second, the Sterling beside me had reminded me of the woman I loved, and my heart ached. I loved all versions of Sterling, but the perfectly polished figure beside me wasn’t the woman I missed. I missed who she’d become in those last days before it had all fallen apart when she’d trusted me, laughed with me, confided in me.
I’d done things in my life I wasn’t proud of and made decisions I wished I could take back, but nothing came close to my regret at lying to Sterling.
“What are we going to do now?” I asked.
Sterling’s head turned in my direction, her eyes skating my way, then sliding back without ever making contact. “Follow my lead,” she said, picking up her purse from where she’d stashed it at her side and opening her door.
If I’d been here for the money, maybe the lack of information would have made me nervous. I wasn’t completely disinterested in the money. According to my mother, there had been a lot of it before my father died. Hundreds of millions of dollars, stashed in an investment account, inaccessible without my father to tell us where to look. By now, it could be a fortune beyond my comprehension.
Could be. Or it could be gone. It might never have existed. I didn’t know. The money wasn’t real to me. It was a myth. A fairy tale. I couldn’t get my head or my heart engaged in the idea of all that money when I was too distracted by the hope of winning back Sterling.