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“Where do you put it?” he asks with a smile.
“Are you saying I eat a lot?” I ask, picking up my glass of water and drinking it before sitting back and rubbing my stomach.
“You can put it away for being so small.”
I flip him off.
He winks, then gets up and comes to me. Cupping the back of my head, he plants a kiss on my forehead. “We should go if you want to meet Odin in time. Unless you’d like another slice, of course.”
“Ha-ha.” I push back from the table. We’re meeting Odin at Uncle Jax’s house. It will be the first time I set foot inside since his death. The day is bright and sunny and although still cool, I swear I smell the promise of spring. It’s my favorite time of year, especially after winters in Avarice, which seem unending. Spring is hopeful. It’s a fresh start.
Val and another soldier accompany us in the SUV, and two others follow in a separate vehicle. Santos is always armed and always seems to be scanning the area, wherever we are and no matter how many men are with us. Since the day Bea Avery let him know she had someone following me, nothing has happened, and the few times we have been at Augustine’s, no members of the Avery family have been present.
I weigh the key to Uncle Jax’s house in the palm of my hand. Well, it’s not Uncle Jax’s anymore. It’s my house now.
“Ready?” Santos asks as we turn onto what feels like a miles-long driveway.
“Yep,” I say, although I’m not sure I will ever be ready. But Uncle Jax left me the house to be sure I was looked after, and I am grateful for that. For him.
Odin is leaning against his car when we reach the front entrance. I climb out of the SUV when we park, and he comes to me.
“Hey Maddy,” he says with a hug. He glances at the empty house. He is as anxious as I am. I can see it on his face, hear it in his voice.
“Are we late?”
“Nah. I just got here early.”
Santos greets him with a nod, and Odin does the same. Since the day at Mr. Jamison’s office, the two of them only talk in grunts at best. I like that Odin stands up to Santos, though. Santos is easily twice as big as my brother, but Odin isn’t cowed, and I think Santos respects that.
I roll my eyes at them anyway and head up to the door, the key heavy in my clammy hand as I slide it into the lock. I feel nauseous. Anxious. It’s strange being here. I take a deep breath in and turn the key, and the instant I open the door, the alarm starts its warning beep. I take one of the sheets of paper Mr. Jamison gave me and punch in the code to silence it.
After a breath, I turn and take in the sprawling ranch style house that was a haven to me for years. It spans a generous portion of an acre of land with a wall of windows at the back. I remember how the outdoor pool would glisten in the summer. You could see it from every angle of the open floor plan, but it’s been drained now. I assume and hope the indoor pool, the one he drowned in, has also been drained. That’s one room I’m not sure I’ll be able to go into.
“It smells the same,” Odin says beside me. He’s taking it all in, just like I am.
I nod because he’s right even though the house has mostly been closed up for years. Mr. Jamison had arranged for its upkeep and monthly cleaning, but no one has lived here since Uncle Jax’s death. I’d always wondered why Dad didn’t sell it. I’d never realized he couldn’t.
Odin and I walk together through the house. After a quick look around, Santos remains in the living room, but he sends two men with us as we stroll through memories. Everything is exactly the same. The photos on the walls. The record collection he cherished, along with the various record players themselves. He would only use them on special occasions, but it was one of his passions. He was a collector.
“I’m going to the library,” I tell Odin. It was my favorite place. He nods, caught up in his own memories, and I walk down the hall toward the library. Just beyond it are the bedrooms. I won’t go there just yet, though.
This is nothing like the Augustines’ library. The house itself is more of a 70s style, but I always loved the library mostly because every book that was in it had been hand selected by Uncle Jax or Mom. Each one was read and loved, and I must have spent hours in here and read half the library.
I push the curtains open. Sunlight makes diamond specks out of dust motes floating in the air. On the side table by Uncle Jax’s favorite chair is a thriller I recognize that makes me stop, makes me miss him again. He was reading it before he died. He was halfway through, and I remember how he’d told me just a few nights before his death he thought he had the mystery figured out but wasn’t sure.
Picking it up, I check the page. I wonder if he’d guessed right. I memorize the page number and close the book to take it home with me. I’ll read it tonight.
At the back of the library is a hidden door that is the entrance to Jax’s office. I only know it because I spent so much time here growing up and caught him going in or coming out once or twice. He was always very private about his home office, uncharacteristically so. Rarely have I been inside it. When I was little, he made a game of it and called it his secret hiding place I couldn’t tell anyone about.
Behind a small panel made to look like the spines of books is the electronic lock for the door. From the same sheet of paper the house alarm code was on, I punch in the one to unlock the door. I hear a buzz, then a click, and the secret door pops open.
“What’s that?” Santos asks, making me jump and apologizing when he sees he has startled me. “Okay?”
“I’m fine. Just lost in thoughts I guess.”
“What is that?” He looks beyond me into the dark room.
“It’s Uncle Jax’s home office,” I say.
