Snapshot: Prologue

Three Years Earlier

Miami

The pen is barely in my hand before the arthritis in my wrist angrily protests. Perhaps handwritten letters are a young woman’s game. But it’s the only way I can keep him close.

My mother used to tell me true love transcends death. But how would she know? She didn’t marry her true love. Then again, neither did I.

Anyway, this doesn’t feel like love, just pain. The sharp stabbing in my wrist from writing letters he’ll never read. The throbbing pressure in my head from trying to piece together broken memories. The constant gnawing ache in my chest, knowing my whole life has been spent regretting one foolish decision.

But the pain is necessary. It reminds me that it was real. So, I keep writing to cling tightly to the hazy memories.

Dear Jacob,

After fifty years, no matter how hard I fight, I find myself losing some of the little details.

That night at the gazebo, I can’t remember if we saw stars in the sky or if it was too cloudy? Was my hair loose or braided? Was it cold? I remember you put your coat around me, likely because I was shivering. But it was probably just from the nerves.

Were you nervous, too? Did you have any idea we’d start our family that night?

I remember the bouquet of white daisies you had waiting for me.

Oftentimes, I picture the gazebo decorated in daisies like we planned. Daisies wrapped around all the pillars. Scattered all across the dock. Pinned in my hair. Woven into the bottom of my veil.

All the promises we made still dance in my mind. Along with all the ones we broke.

There were no daisies at my wedding. Harrison’s mother suggested them, but I refused.

Daisies were ours. For us. For our daughter.

I still lay a thick bouquet of white daisies on her grave at least once a week. I know you’re with her now. Can you ask her if she still likes them? Or if I should stop?

Do you still like them?

Because I picked out a dress for when they finally put me in that casket. It’s handsewn lace in the shape of daisies. I know I missed my chance in this lifetime, but if there’s any hope of a second chance for us…

I’ll be there.

In a white dress.

Waiting for you at the gazebo.

I’m interrupted by a soft knock on my office door. I drop my pen, hastily fold my letter, then cover up the evidence of my tears.

“Come in.” I push away from my ivory desk, glowing under the overhead lights I set to low. I like to see the Miami skyline at night. My city is always busy in the evening. The lit-up buildings look like frozen fireworks against the dark sky, reflecting off the still water. When I designed headquarters, I ensured all the executive offices and meeting rooms had this view.

The handle turns, and my grandson’s handsome face appears through the crack of the door. “Grandma. Why are you still here? It’s late.”

Dex is such a worrier. I’m the CEO of Hessler Group. I’m no stranger to late nights at the office. “Come in, Dex. Sit down. I want to talk to you.” I point to the sofa in the sitting area, and he begrudgingly obliges.

After grabbing two thick crystal lowballs and the matching decanter full of aged bourbon, I kick off my heels and join Dex in the sitting area of my much-too-large office.

“How did it go today with the settlement?”

I pour us both a generous drink before passing a glass to Dex. He takes it and mutters a soft, “Thank you,” but sets it down on a coaster instead of drinking it.

He melts into the sofa, his shoulders slumping as he presses against his temples. “No surprises. It was exactly what we agreed upon.”

“Look at me.” One little command and his eyes snap to mine obediently. “How are you?”

He shrugs, looking confused, as if my question is unwarranted. “Fine.”

“Dex.” I hold his stare. “You don’t need to placate me. I want your honesty.”

He closes his eyes. “I just paid a woman six million dollars to not lie and publicly say I tried to drug and sexually assault her during a dinner date. How do you think I feel?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Grandma, after the investigation, they found out she had the waitress spike her champagne…and she actually drank it.”

I’m aware of the theatrics women are capable of to get my grandson’s attention, but none of us anticipated this. “You have no fault or blame in this.”

“I know that, but she roofied herself to try and frame me. Who goes that far? She could’ve seriously hurt herself, all for a payout. Briar was certain that my reputation is so fragile I would just give in to her demands… And I hate that she was right.”

The latest scandal Dex was roped into was cruelty at its most extreme. The woman, Briar, didn’t have a court case, not by far. Mainly because Dex was innocent. But also because there was no evidence outside of her baseless accusations. Jail wasn’t what he was afraid of. It was the social media shitstorm. The scariest threat of this generation. You don’t have to be guilty of anything to be punished by the internet.

“Oh, Dex. I’m sorry.”

He exhales, and it comes out like a shudder. Pressing his lips together tightly, he recomposes himself. “Every time this stuff happens, I’m worried about what’s coming next. It just keeps getting worse and worse. There’s never a day I’m not looking over my shoulder. I’m going to need these women to sign a fucking contract of consent before I feel safe taking my pants off.” He checks my expression and hangs his head. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know all that.”

I tilt my head and give him a smart-ass smile. “Goodness gracious. You’re telling me you’re not a virgin? Shocking.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters.

I set my drink down and reach for him across the coffee table. He holds my hands firmly in his, studying my wrinkles, blatant evidence of my age. The reminder wears on me; it means time is running out. Soon, he’ll be alone, without me. Without a soul to trust. And I’m running out of time to keep him from making the same mistakes that I did.

I flinch when he turns my hand, the wrong angle making the pain in my wrist flare up. “Ow.” I wince.

“Oh shit, Grandma.” He loosens his grip. “I’m sorry.”

I let out a warm hum as he tenderly squeezes my hand. “Pay it no mind.”

“Sensitive today?” he asks. “Do you want me to grab your pain medication?”

I shake my head. “I was writing. I need to feel the pain so I know when I’ve pushed it too far.”

He sets my hands back on the table so gingerly, the way you’d lower a wounded baby bird back into its nest. “Writing who?”

“An old friend.”

Staring at my grandson, it’s like Jacob’s here. Cloudy, hazel eyes. Deep dimples carved against slim cheeks and a strong, square jaw. Thick, dark hair. A shocking likeness. It’s good I only have one grandchild. It wouldn’t have been fair. Dex would’ve outshone the rest. He was always destined to be my favorite.

He quirks a brow. “You guys can’t call each other, instead? For the sake of your wrist?”

I look away from his face, tearing myself from the beautiful, haunting reminder of my broken heart. I was hurt when I lost my husband, Harrison. I did love him in a way. When my daughter died, she took half my heart. But when Jacob passed, my only true love, he took the rest. I’m not sure what’s still feebly beating in my chest, keeping me alive each day. All I know is if I were to lose Dex, the world would go dark. I would have no more business here. My body isn’t fighting to keep revenue up and gainshares high. I’m not here to earn more money and secure the Hessler legacy.

I’m only here for this boy in front of me. Right now, he’s hurting, and it’s my job to fix it.

“Writing letters is a lost art, honey.”

“What’s that thing you always told me? Anything worthwhile, you should say it to their face. Right? Letters are for lost apologies.”

Don’t I know. It’s why I write so many.

Ignoring my grandson using my own wisdom against me, I inform him, “I got you an early birthday present.”

“We don’t do presents,” he says, scrunching his face. “Just dinner at Rooster’s like usual. I already made the reservation. What’s gotten into you?”

I raise my brow, daring him. “I wanted to get you a birthday present, so I did. Or are you in the business of telling your grandma and boss what she can and can’t do?”

Dex smirks, then shuts his eyes and holds out his hands. “All right, then. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Good. You’re fired.”

His eyes are still closed, but his smirk disappears. “Mhmm. Real funny.”

“I’m not kidding, Dex. You’re fired. But not for performance. You’re doing a superb job. You’re welcome to consider this a long-term sabbatical if you please.”

Now his eyes pop open as his jaw drops. “Have you forgotten what birthdays are? Because that’s not a present.”

“It is.”

Shame splatters across his face as he bites the inside of his cheek. “Look, Grandma. What I said before… I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’d be an idiot to complain about the privileges I have. I’m lucky to be a Hessler, I know that. And I’m sorry about Briar and all the other bullshit that’s been going on for the past year. I need to be smarter. I’ve been thinking and I’m going to take some time off from dating, period. I’m going to focus on work. When I’m in my thirties, you can just pick a wife for me for all I care.”

“Dex. I’m relieving you of your position temporarily. You’ve been working yourself like a dog since freshman year of your undergrad. I’m proud of you. Hessler Group will be waiting when you’re ready. But right now, I’m gifting you a break.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need a break.” He rises from his seat, his jaw clenched. “I’ve been here since six this morning though, and I do need some sleep⁠—”

“Please, sit.” I raised this child on my own since he was seven years old. At twenty-seven, he still minds me. Once his behind is nestled back in the tufted cream sofa, I soften my eyes.

“Sweet boy, I had no idea what I was signing you up for when I chose this life for you.”

He shakes his head. “Chose? You didn’t choose this life for me.”

“Didn’t I?” I fold my hands together as a wave of remorse washes over me, threatening to drown me. “When I agreed to become a Hessler, I specifically had your mother, you, and your future children in mind. I thought money would make my family feel safe. I never knew the magnitude of evil that would come from it. And I know you’re going through hell now, but I promise you, it gets worse. You think my husband had never been caught up in a scandal or accused of something unsavory? We just became skilled at acting impervious. We tripled our legal and PR teams. Harrison always used to say that if you were rich enough, you could buy bravery, but it’s all still a façade.”

Dex squints one eye, looking thrown by my response. “It’s weird to hear you call him Harrison. Just say, ‘Grandpa.’”

I exhale in exasperation. “Dex, listen to me. Eventually, you won’t just be grappling with decisions you’re currently making. You’ll be wrestling with ghosts. Suffocating from decisions that were clearly mistakes in hindsight. It never gets easier. The load never gets lighter. Wealth will always be a malignant tumor, feeding off your soul. Greed grows, want grows, all while you starve what you actually need.”

“Being?” His question comes out in a gruff whisper.

“Love. But love isn’t about pretty girls and the pretty rings they want wrapped around their fingers. Love is about companionship.”

“Grandma, I’m not looking for⁠—”

“But,” I say, interrupting him, “you can’t find the right someone until you find yourself. Do you understand that?”

I’m sure he’d love to roll his eyes—his natural reaction every time we have this conversation. I don’t blame him. I’d be wary of love if I were him as well. The women he’s met are far from genuine. None of them with family and future on their mind. Their calculating eyes are fixed on black cards, penthouses, and my grandson’s bottomless pocket. I sometimes wonder if they even care that he’s good-looking. He’d serve the same purpose to them if he looked like a troll under a bridge.

That’s my greatest fear. Nobody will see Dex outside of a thing to use and possess.

For so long, I was treated like a doll on the shelf. When my husband succumbed to his excessive drinking decades ago, the responsibility fell on me. I went from a doll to a pawn on a chessboard. All I want is for my grandson’s life to be more than a game.

“Well, what do you expect me to do? Sit around the estate all day ordering the staff around until it’s time to take over the company?” Irritation lines his tone. He’s rubbing his hands together so hard they’re turning red.

“Well, now for your actual present.”

Barefoot, I stand and make my way to my top desk drawer. I pull out an envelope and balance it on my palm, feeling a thousand pounds of layered guilt. I wasn’t supposed to look him up. I made my choice long ago. I owe the Hesslers a lot. But you can’t force your heart to obey when it comes to love. Loyalty, however, is an entirely separate matter. That’s a choice, and now, a part of me feels truly unfaithful.

Dex stares at the envelope as if it were dangerous. No patience for his hesitance, I open the envelope and show him the deed to the dive shop.

“The friend I’m writing… He used to love diving as much as you do. Maybe even more. We lost contact for a very long time. Even when the internet emerged, I couldn’t find him. So, I hired a private investigator to look him up. It took a long time. My friend would disappear off the grid for months on end on liveaboards and other various ships, so he was nearly impossible to find. I thought he was lost forever. But I got a surprise report from the PI last week.”

“Really?” Genuine interest is painted all over Dex’s face. He picks up his drink and takes a small sip of bourbon, seemingly unbothered by the bitter burn. I blinked, and the little boy I raised is all grown now, drinking like a man. “And how’s your friend?”

“He passed a few years ago. I was too late. We didn’t get to reconnect. But he opened a dive shop in Las Vegas of all places. It looks like it was employee-run as long as possible, but it just recently went up for sale.” I balance the deed on Dex’s leg. “I bought it for you. You always said if you had the time, you’d like to be a dive instructor, right?”

He stares at the paper but doesn’t touch it. “I’m the Director of Operations of the largest cruise ship conglomerate in the world while being groomed to take over as CEO. Time hasn’t been on my side.”

“Well, I’m putting time on your side. Go have a life all your own while you can, Dex. Make memories. One day, those memories will carry you through the bad days.”

“Grandma, I can’t leave you by yourself.” He grabs the deed, glances it over while shaking his head, then hands it back to me. “I won’t.”

Refusing to take it, I answer simply, “You have to. You’re fired, and now you own a dive shop. In Las Vegas.” Crouching down, I kiss his cheek, then his forehead. “I’ll expect you at Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and whenever else you’re missing home.”

His chuckle starts as disbelief, then turns eager. It’s as if I can see the acceptance slowly saturate his face. “What about income? Am I just fired, or are you kicking me off the bank accounts, too?”

I smirk. “I just bought you a dive shop. Perhaps sell some flippers.”

He scowls and then mutters, “Sassy,” under his breath.

Laughing, I ruffle his hair before taking my seat and cradling my drink once more. “How about an allowance from your trust?”

Dex stands to inherit everything once I’m gone. But for now, his trust is allocated at my discretion. Harrison and I both agreed that no teenager or young man needs immediate and total access to his billion-dollar fortune.

“What’d you have in mind?” he asks.

“I think exercising a little humility in Las Vegas might help you attract a different crowd than you do in Miami. No household staff or personal assistants. Establish your own accounts. Buy a house. I’ll release twenty million from your trust. That should be enough to support the dive shop. And you always have your black card for emergencies.”

“Okay. Good idea.” His words are drawn out and distracted. His eyes shift to the left, and I can feel his trepidation.

“Is that not enough?” I ask.

I didn’t raise my grandson to chase luxuries. He’s not one to purchase ostentatious cars or houses to prove a point. His only real indulgences are travel and extravagant diving trips. I’ve happily supported that hobby his entire life. Scuba diving keeps his anxiety under control, and I can’t remember the last time he got in the ocean. He finished grad school and then barricaded himself in his office.

He nods slowly. “More than enough.”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

Dex shakes his head then runs his hand through his hair. “I’ve never actually had a utility bill in my name. Or grocery shopped, for that matter. I guess I have a lot to learn.” Dex pats the tops of his thighs, and the loud clap thunders through my quiet office. He stands. “All right, it’s late. Are you ready?”

“You go. I need to finish my letter. Joe has the car outside. He’ll drive me home. Are you staying at your penthouse or headed back to the estate?”

“I can spend the weekend at the estate. Want to have breakfast tomorrow?”

“Lovely idea. I’ll have the chef make that brioche French toast with the berry sauce and bring it out to the marina.”

Dex gently grabs my hand and kisses the top of it. “As long as there’s bacon.” He smiles. “Goodnight, Grandma. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He stops in his tracks halfway to the door. “Hey, I have a question about your friend.”

My heart knocks, my adrenaline bubbling in my veins. Did I say too much? “What about him?”

“You said he passed away. Why are you still writing letters?”

Because true love transcends death, Dex. “Like you said…lost apologies, sweetheart. Now, get out of here. Give your grandma some privacy.”

He closes the door gently behind him. For a moment, I sit in silence. Forcing Dex to move out of this bubble, even temporarily, means I’ll truly be alone. My heart sinks at the impending reality, but the look of relief on Dex’s face confirmed what I already knew. He needs this.

After a few more swigs of my drink, I uncross my stiffened legs and will my aching body to move back to my desk.

I pick up my pen and start off on a new trail of thought.

I missed you by a sliver, and I’ll never stop wondering if maybe you looked me up, too. Did I fool you? Did you think I was happy?

Did you honestly think my happiness could exist outside of you?

There was some joy in my life, though. In Melody. In her beautiful son, Dex. I wish you could’ve met him. He’s your spitting image.

And see, the best parts of Dex—his tender heart, his warm smile, his optimism, his sense of adventure—those are all parts of you. And the longer he’s buried in this office, the more he loses himself.

Every day, he becomes more Hessler and less who he really is.

So, I’m sending him to a place where he can feel close to you. If you’re up there watching over us, please take extra good care of our grandson. He’s everything to me. He’s all I have left of Melody.

He’s all I have left of you.

Goodnight, Jacob.

-Dottie

P.S. Love doesn’t seem like a big enough word, but I do still love you.