Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
But as soon as I step through the door, I can tell something is off. The lights are still on in both the living room and the hallway, despite the late hour, and Josie’s bedroom door is visibly open at the end. I put my keys and phone down on the counter, realizing only then, of course, that I forgot to send her any more updates after I’d texted her that Summer had been safely transported to Burlington.
Hell, I haven’t even checked my phone in several hours. She must be worried sick.
“Josie? You awake?” I call out more quiet than loud to test the waters. Her answer comes from the living room.
“In here.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t update you or let you know I’d be this late,” I say as I walk out of the kitchen. “Summer is stable but admitted at Burlington. And God, Josie, it was so scar—” I stop midsentence when I find her on the sofa. But it’s not her presence that shocks me. It’s the manila envelope in her lap and the handwritten letter in her hands.
I hope the truth will set you free.
“I didn’t mean to,” she says in a quiet rush. “But I was trying to get some of these damn boxes unpacked so we can actually move around the house without tripping over shit, and I found this envelope and then I was just looking inside and I… Norah,” she whispers. “Is this…is this true?”
I don’t know what to say. All I know is that my heart is racing over the thought of my sister reading through the ugliness that’s inside that letter.
All I can manage is a nod. All of Alexis’s claims are backed up by other things—documents, a USB stick, and other forms of proof that came inside the envelope.
“This is awful.” She looks at me. Her eyes look soft, but it’s with sadness. A deep, disappointed sadness. “I always hoped that you got to see a different side of our mother. I always hoped that she was good to you. But this…”
She doesn’t even have to say it. In her eyes, this proves that Eleanor is Eleanor.
The corners of my mouth quiver as my lips slip down into a frown.
“She said you were always kind to her,” Josie comments, nodding down toward the letter. “Was she a friend of yours?”
“No, not really.” I shake my head. “To me, she was just a young girl from one of the many charities that Eleanor went to galas and events for. She had been in and out of foster care most of her life and had dealt with a lot of abusive situations throughout her childhood. I guess you could say our mother was mentoring her, and I got to know her a little because she worked for Thomas.”
“Wait…our mother mentors young girls?” Josie’s eyes make a bid for her forehead. “What does that even mean? I have a hard time believing Eleanor was doing shit like that out of the goodness of her own heart.”
“She would just help them. Buy them new wardrobes. Find them jobs.” I shrugged. “In Alexis’s case, she took her under her wing, helped her secure finances for college and get an internship at King Financial as Thomas’s assistant.”
My sister lets out an exasperated breath. Like she can’t believe our mother would do anything to benefit another human being.
“Jose, I don’t know,” I whisper, and nausea makes my mouth fill with too much saliva. I have to fight hard to swallow against it. “I feel like there’s something big I’m missing here. Like there’s more to this than just Alexis.”
Josie’s eyebrows draw together. “What makes you say that?”
“The way she ended the letter.”
“What do you mean?” She glances between me and the letter. “I just read it, and I didn’t—”
“I know. Neither did I. Not the first time or even the first seven times I read it, but Josie, read it again.”
She shuffles the papers in her lap, looks down, and starts to read again.
Dear Norah,
I don’t know how to begin this letter. I don’t even really know what to say. Truthfully, I wasn’t going to say anything at all. I was going to stay silent and hide in the shadows and keep the truth to myself.
But I saw your wedding announcement in the newspaper.
Then I saw an article about you and Thomas and your happy life. It was an interview you did for Page Six. The photo of you and him gave the appearance that everything was bliss. And the journalist went on and on about what a beautiful couple the two of you are and how successful Thomas is and what a great man he is and how sweet and devoted you are to him.
I felt sick after reading it, and I just couldn’t keep the truth to myself.