“What? Why?” It’s exactly what he wanted for her. It’s why he took her to CPS himself.
“I don’t think he’d ever admit it, but he was hurt. Not because he wanted her to be lonely, but because she’d moved on. I don’t think he’s ever been able to do that. He was so much older than her when it happened. I think it scarred him.”
And he’d been the one to find the body, the one to feed his starving kid sister, the one who walked into a social services office to give her up.
“That boy had to grow up before parts of him were ready, and he’s angry,” she says, spearing a bite of chicken on her fork. “Not because she has a better life. He wanted that for her. Because there’s no one to forgive. His father never asked and his mama’s gone, so he just carries around all that pain from those memories, bottling it up…”
Until he can’t anymore. I’d witnessed how he could lash out. I’d seen him jump to the worst possible conclusion.
“But the real problem is that he hates pity,” Francie continues. “If he thinks you feel sorry for him, he’ll turn on you. Fast.”
“That’s why you were always hard on him,” I guess. I’d heard about her rules and expectations.
“Tough love,” she says.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admit.
“That’s my job. He might not think of me the same way, but Sterling’s my son. My job as his mama is to give him tough love. He needs something else from you.”
Suddenly, I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. “What? How do I know if I’m giving him what he needs?”
“Because it’s what you need, hon. That’s what falling in love is—give and take, acceptance and challenge, soft and hard. It’s every kind of love you’ll ever need. The right person is your family, your friend, your partner, your better and your worst. That’s why so many people get it wrong,” she says softly. “They get caught up in one kind of love and think that can carry them. Real love takes everything you have to give.”
“But it’s worth it.” I know it. I feel it. “I don’t need him to be perfect. I just need him to be mine.”
“That’s a good start.” She hesitates for a minute. “Is he happy there? At Valmont?”
“Sometimes.” I decide not to lie. “Not always. It’s different than here.”
“But he’s got you.”
“Sometimes,” I say with a laugh. “We’ve had our moments.”
“You’ll have more of them.”
“Francie.” I’m not sure how to bring up the bills. “I hope this doesn’t offend you—Sterling would kill me—but he saw the bill from school. I can help with that.”
“You’re sweet,” she says, reaching over to pat my hand. “I’ve got it covered. It just came. I put aside some of the money I got from fostering him the last few years. I always knew he was too smart not to go to college.”
“But Valmont is so expensive.”
“And his scholarship covers most of it. The rest I can handle.” She levels a serious gaze at me. “But if you want to help me out, just make sure you don’t distract him too much. He needs to keep his grades up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It’s the least I can do.
“Now, how about some Christmas cookies?” she asks. “I hid them earlier, so Sterling didn’t eat them all while I was at work.
She pulls an old tin from a cabinet over the fridge and pries open the lid. She’s just put them on the table in front of us when Sterling appears, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Did someone say cookies?”
He looks confused when we burst out laughing.
26
Adair
Present Day
When I was a child, Windfall stretched so far that I couldn’t fathom it ending. It was my entire world, but I never quite belonged. Today, bathed in the warm light of June, it looks small. Maybe it’s never been as impressive as I thought. Maybe my world is just so much larger now. I don’t know. But despite its diminished effect, a pit grows in my stomach, hollowing out my core with dread, as I drive past the gates to the main house. I can’t separate the two desires warring inside me: I want to leave, and I want to stay. I can’t do both, and I’m uncertain I’m making the right decision.
I don’t bother pulling around to the back. I have an hour before Ginny returns from dance lessons with Ellie, and Malcolm is at the office. I’d rather not drag boxes across two wings of the house and down the servant corridor. It feels strange, but somehow necessary, to pause at the front door and ring the bell. Felix answers it with record speed.
“You don’t need to knock,” he says.
“I think I do,” I say. “If for no other reason then to train myself that this isn’t home anymore.”
“How does that feel?” He steps to the side, allowing me to enter.
“Strange, but not painful.” I squint as I search for the right way to explain it. “It feels right. That’s what’s weird about it.”
He nods, an understanding smile turning up his lips. “You’ve moved on.”
“I don’t think I ever felt at home here,” I confess.
Felix pauses as if considering this, but he doesn’t dwell. “And your new place at the Eaton? How does it feel?”
“Like I live in a hotel.” I suspect it will always feel that way. I’m already considering whether I could sell it and find myself a little house somewhere near the Bluebird offices. Nothing fancy. Some place to call my own.
“It will get better.”
“I should get going. I can’t wear things like this to work,” I say with a grin, gesturing to my linen shorts and think tank top I’d worn to pack my belongings. “I’ll probably take some things today, pack up the rest, and arrange for someone to come and get them. Did you get my message about boxes?” As much
