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I skim my fingers over my neck. “I lost my favorite scarf. I can’t remember where I left it.”
He fingers the light gray one wrapped around his neck. “You’re welcome to take mine. I’m heading down to Boston for a few days and it’s windy as hell there. I can do without for you.”
I pat him on the thigh. “You keep that one for yourself. It’s too masculine for me.”
He sets the apple back down before he picks up the silver fountain pen that Christopher gave me. “This is beautiful, Chloe. Where did this come from?”
I reach to take it from him. “Do you remember Bertram? He used to drive me and Chris everywhere.”
His jaw tightens at the mention of my ex-husband. “I do remember him. Did he give that to you?”
I slide my fingers up and down the pen. “He left it to me. He died last week.”
“Shit.” He shakes his head. “That’s too bad. He seemed like a nice guy.”
I look up at my brother. If anyone can be labeled a nice guy it’s him. “He was always there for me. He came to see me a few times after my mom died.”
“That was good of him but why do you think he left you a pen? Does it have any significance to you?”
I slide it onto my desk and squeeze my eyes shut briefly. “Bertram came to get me the day I signed my divorce papers. He said it would have pissed Chris off but that’s why he did it.”
Rocco laughs. “I wish I would have known this guy.”
I smile as I continue, “I didn’t ask him to go up to the office with me, but he did and when it was time for me to go into the conference room to sign, he handed me the pen. He said his mother had given it to him when he left Scotland to come here. He told me it was filled with luck so I used it sign the papers and I gave it back to him afterward.”
“Treasure that pen, Chloe.” Rocco slides to his feet. “You got your freedom back the day you signed those papers and look at your life now. Your dreams are coming true.”
I gaze down at the pen. “My future does look pretty fucking bright, doesn’t it?”
“You know it. Nothing is standing in the way of the life you’ve always wanted.”
***
I dial Evan’s cell number again and inwardly curse when it goes to voicemail. I can’t exactly be mad at the man. He’s busy at work and in his world that means helping people in a much more significant way than I do.
I cross the street after exiting the subway and make my way down the tree-lined sidewalk. The green buds of spring are starting to pop up. The cold winter wind has been replaced with a spring breeze.
I approach my dad’s house with excitement. I’ve been waiting to have this conversation with him for weeks and I thought the best way to do that would be to show up out of the blue with a box of his favorite cookies from the bakery he used to visit all the time when he lived in Manhattan.
I’m just about to knock when the door swings open.
I stand in shocked silence when I see my dad in an embrace with a redhead.
“Chloe?” He scrambles to back away from the woman when he locks eyes with me. “What in the world are you doing here?”
The redhead spins around to face me.
She’s my dad’s age with soft creases around her green eyes. Her smile is warm and infectious. “You must be Chloe. I’m April.”
I take her outstretched hand in mine and give it a soft shake. I manage to say a few words even though I feel as though my voice is caught somewhere between my stomach and my throat. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“April lives up the block.” My dad’s hand floats past my head toward the sidewalk. “We were having a coffee and…”
“Sharing stories,” April finishes for him. “Your dad is a great storyteller, Chloe. I know all about you and your three brothers.”
My mouth curves. “I hope I didn’t interrupt.”
“I was on my way home.” April steps past me as she pulls her thin sweater around her shoulders to cover her purple dress. “If you two want a bite to eat later, I’ll bring over some dinner. You just let me know.”
