Promises We Meant To Keep: Chapter 9

THE CALL CAME out of the blue, as only the best calls can, and I’m at my lawyer’s office the next day, anxious to know what he wanted to talk to me about. I decide there’s no need for niceties or small conversation. The moment I settle into the chair across from his desk, I ask why he called me in.

Sterling Cavanaugh tries to hide the smile that barely curves his mouth when he ducks his head, flipping open the folder sitting before him on his desk. “Your husband’s attorney got in touch with me yesterday morning.”

Dread coats my stomach, making it churn. “What about?”

“It seems that he left you a little something no one else knew about.” He pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and hands it over. I take it from him, frowning at the photo of the ocean view at the top. “A house.”

“A house?” I study the other photos of the lodge-like structure nestled among the forest. “Where at?”

“California. Over one hundred acres on the Big Sur coast.” When I glance up at Sterling, I find he’s already watching me, a faint smile on his face. “It’s a rare piece, Sylvie. Dense redwood forest and pristine coastline. There’s nothing else like it. The house is over six thousand square feet, and was originally built in the 1920s.”

My entire body vibrates with barely contained excitement. “Are you sure this belongs to me?”

“You weren’t mentioned in the will at all, and I believe Earl realized it just before his death. That’s why he put the house in your name. According to his attorney, it’s been in his family for only a short amount of time. He picked it up a few years prior to your marriage,” Sterling explains.

“Why don’t his children want it?” I study the photos again, frowning when I take in the interior shots. It appears to have been remodeled, but not recently.

“They didn’t know it existed.”

“And once they find out, they’ll come after me.”

He shakes his head. “They can’t. The house is untouchable by the estate. It wasn’t even put into the estate. His children have no legal say in who it does or doesn’t go to.”

I’m frowning. This makes no sense. “Why not?”

“Because it was put into your name.” Sterling hands over another document. A deed.

I snatch it from his fingers, my gaze roaming over the legal language, zeroing in on my name in black and white.

Sylvie Lancaster. He didn’t even put it in my married name, not that I ever had it legally changed.

Hmm. The man did right by me for once.

“So this house is mine.” I switch the papers, so I’m looking at the house images again.

“It is. And it is an interesting piece of property. Unique in size and scale. Like I said, plenty of dense forest and ocean coastline. There is nothing else like it on the market. Especially an estate so large,” Sterling explains.

My excitement bubbles, threatening to overwhelm me. I don’t want to get too overjoyed by this news, but an isolated property in California would provide an escape. From New York City. From my family. My mother.

My life.

I could start anew. Become a different person. Focus on different things. Maybe fall into some new-agey group and focus on wellness and self-worth. I’m sure California is full of those types of people.

Sterling opens a desk drawer and withdraws a yellow envelope, setting it on the desk and within reach. “The keys are inside. Along with the address and various instructions. The house doesn’t come with a staff, though there is a groundskeeper. Not sure how he can manage to take care of the entire estate, considering how large it is. You might want to think about hiring more people to assist you.”

I pick up the envelope and undo the clasp to peek inside. A variety of keys hang on a keychain that says Big Sur on it, along with an illustration of a sunset sinking into the ocean.

“You also might consider selling it,” Sterling suggests. “There has been plenty of interest ever since it went off the market. There have even been inquiries into its availability lately, according to your late husband’s lawyer.”

“I’m not selling it.” I seal the envelope back up, and stash it in my oversized black Valentino bag. The Roman studs make me feel tough. Strong. Like a gladiator.

Which is silly.

“As you wish,” Sterling concedes, holding his hands out before clutching them together on his desk. “Merely something to consider for the future. California has never been your home base before. You don’t know what it will be like, living there.”

“Well, it might become my home base now, considering I’m a property owner.” I grin, unable to hide my glee any longer. “This is wonderful news, Sterling.”

“I figured you’d approve.” His smile is warm. He’s an older gentleman, younger than my dead husband but still old enough to be my father. I’ve always liked Sterling. He’s happily married and has a son that’s around my age who’s a bit odd. Definitely not my type. Stodgy wannabe lawyers are boring.

But they always take care of you when you’re in a pinch.

“I plan on going out there right away,” I continue, my mind awhirl with plans. “I’ll need to make arrangements with the family plane.”

The Lancaster private plane is shared by the family. My father is the one who uses it the most, with Whit right behind him. I, on the other hand, rarely use it.

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time there. The house and property included look spectacular.” Ever the diplomat, my lawyer.

“You’ll have to come visit me sometime, Sterling. Bring the family, especially your son,” I offer, flashing him a toothy smile.

The nervous look that appears on Sterling’s face can’t be denied. The idea of me setting my sights on his son most likely terrifies him. “Ian is currently busy with law school.”

I rise to my feet, slinging my bag over my shoulder. The weight of the world is light today, and I’m tempted to skip out of Sterling’s office. “Such a shame. I’m sure he’d bore me to tears anyway.”

Sterling clears his throat. “He has a girlfriend.”

“Sure he does,” I drawl, punctuating my words with a laugh. “Thank you for the good news, Sterling. You’ve made my entire year.”

I skip right out of his office, just as I envisioned. By the time I’ve gone down the elevator and am out on the street in search of my hired car, I’m beaming from ear to ear, unable to contain the joy that is fizzing through my veins.

A house that’s mine and no one else’s. No other Lancaster attached to it but me. I can make my escape out of this dreadful city and never come back if I don’t want to.

The idea of living on the coast of California by myself, surrounded by the forest and ocean, sounds like heaven. No father trying to make nice. No mother trying to slide back into my life, so she can control it. No brother casting his judgmental looks my way.

No chance of running into Spencer Donato ever again.

The last thought makes my heart pang, but I shove the thought aside. I can’t worry about Spencer and what he thinks of me. He hates me. He made his feelings for me clear at Whit and Summer’s wedding reception. I’ve ruined that relationship, once and for all, and have only myself to blame.

Maybe I can become a hermit. I’ll hide away in my forest home with only the call of birds and the rustling of wild animals to keep me company. And the occasional groundskeeper, who’ll call in and ask if I want the lawn mowed that week.

It sounds like a dream. Even better?

It’s about to become my reality.

The moment I enter my apartment I freeze, sensing that someone is already here. When I’m the only one with access.

I pull my phone out of my bag, ready to dial the security desk in the lobby when my mother breezes out of the kitchen, humming a familiar tune. Like she belongs there. As if I gave her a key and told her she could stop by anytime she wanted.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is cold. Devoid of any emotion, though inside I’m trembling.

Her eyes widen with seeming surprise, and she rests her hand against her chest, her red-lacquered lips parting. “You startled me.”

“This is my apartment,” I stress. “How did you get inside?”

“I told the doorman I was your mother. He let me right in.”

Of course, he did. To the outside world, Sylvia Lancaster is harmless.

“I want you to leave.” I turn my back on her and march over to the door, flipping the locks and opening it, pointing my finger at the open doorway. “Get out.”

Her hand drops to her side, an amused curve to her lips. “Always so hostile toward me, Sylvie. I don’t understand it.”

I clench my fists at my sides, wishing I could smash her face in. Her blatant denial is infuriating. “You’re gaslighting me.”

She waves a hand, dismissing my accusation. “You young people and your terminology. Do you even understand what gaslighting means?”

“No, but here you go, gaslighting me again. As if I don’t know what I’m talking about.” I lift my chin, my hands still clenched. Armed and ready to fight. “This is my property, and you’re not allowed on it. I’m asking you nicely to leave. If you don’t, I’ll call security.”

“Security allowed me in. I had a personal escort and everything.” She tilts her head to the side, contemplating me. “You’re visibly shaking, Sylvie. Are you feeling all right?”

A roar leaves me unlike any sound I’ve ever made before. “Why are you like this?”

“I just want to talk.” Her voice softens, full of concern. “Please. It’s been so long. I don’t like how you shut me out.”

“I did it for my own protection.”

“From me? What did I ever do to you?”

“You know.” My voice drips with agony, making her frown. “You know exactly what you’ve done even though you pretend it never happened. I can’t go on living like this, Mother. I just—I can’t.”

“Darling.” She takes a step toward me, and I automatically shift back, needing the distance. “I’m concerned when you talk like that. Please tell me you’re not contemplating suicide again.”

This feels so familiar, it’s downright eerie. We’ve already had this conversation. She’s said these sorts of things to me before. Planting seeds and making me believe that I’m the one who wants to end my life.

Realizing that trying to get her to leave isn’t going to work, I slam the door shut and wave a hand toward the couches in my living room. “You want to talk? Let’s talk.”

I settle onto the pristine white couch, keeping an eye on her as she sits on the pale blue chair directly across from me, resting her clutched hands in her lap. Her expression is pleasant, her eyebrows raised. As if she’s waiting for me to tear into her while she sits like an angel, calm and reserved.

It’s such a load of shit.

“I want to reestablish our relationship, Sylvie,” she says, launching right into it. “I miss you. Seeing you at the wedding reminded me of how distant we’ve truly become, and it…hurts. We used to be so close, until you shut me completely out of your life.”

The hypocrisy is real in this woman, I swear.

We stare at each other, each of us willing the other to break first, and like usual, I’m the one to do it.

“We can’t have a relationship anymore, Mother. I just—you scare me,” I admit, wanting her to think I’m feeling vulnerable.

Inside me, anger bubbles, hot and thick. She doesn’t scare me. Not really. I just want her to think I’m weak.

“I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” She slides to the edge of her seat, poised and ready to bolt toward me if need be.

“You already have.” I lift my chin, staring down my nose at her, taking in her features, which are so similar to mine. We look a lot alike, my mother and me. We basically share the same name. She’d hoped we’d be similar in every single way, and we’re just not. She forgets that Lancaster blood flows through my veins, and it dominates. “Let’s get it out in the open and talk about what you really did. How you took me to all of those doctors and convinced them I was sick, when I really wasn’t. What exactly did you do to me, hmm? Poison me? Put me on so much medication I could barely function? Is that what happened? I can’t remember. Things from my past are blurry, and I know why. It’s all your fault.”

I either want to forget, or whatever she did to me erased my memory.

“Watch what you say. Your accusations are dangerous.” Her expression is smooth as glass, but I can hear the frustration in her words. The warning in her tone.

“They’re especially dangerous because they’re true.” I shake my head again, and again when she tries to talk, effectively shutting her up. “Don’t bother denying it or arguing with me. I know the truth. I lived through it. And that’s why I don’t want to be around you anymore. You’re a threat to my life. You’d rather see me dead—or close enough to it.”

She gapes at me, her mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. “That is the most—absurd thing I’ve ever heard. How dare you say that, Sylvie! How dare you.”

I watch as she leaps to her feet, ever elegant as she heads for the door. She’s going to leave without me having to kick her out, and that’s so much easier.

“I refuse to sit here and let you say these sorts of things to me and expect me to just take it.” She pauses at the door, her hand on the handle when she glances over her shoulder at me. “I’ve always wondered a few things about you.”

That’s all she says and, of course, she knew I’d ask what. So I do.

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes sparkle. “Your husband. His death was such a mystery. Did you have something to do with it?”

It’s my turn to gape. To open and close my mouth, unable to form words. When my silence carries on, the triumph that alights my mother’s eyes cannot be denied.

“That’s what I thought.” A sigh leaves her and she opens the door. “Such a shame. He was the one man I thought could tame you.”

She shuts the door behind her before I can protest, and I slump against the couch, gazing up at the ceiling as my breaths come faster and faster.

Does anyone else believe I killed Earl? His children have made thinly veiled comments that were digs, but they never came right out and said it.

No one ever has. Until my mother.

It figures.