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“Damn.” I sift through the box and confirm I can’t find one, either.
Out of curiosity, I pick up the camera and push a few buttons, the way Charlotte did a few minutes ago. But it won’t open for me, either. The cassette is stuck inside it.
“I’m sure we can order a power cord for it, easily enough,” I say. I pull out my phone, quickly find the right cord, and order one for express delivery. And when I’m done with that task, I suggest we pull out all the cassettes and line them up by year to see exactly what we’re dealing with here.
When we line up the cassettes, we quickly realize some of them are labeled with a female name, in addition to the year. Three different names, in fact, that all appear multiple times throughout the cassette collection:Mabel, Jeannie, Clara. Mostly, though, the cassettes are marked with nothing but a scrawled year.
“Looks like Lloyd was a busy guy,” I say, my stomach clenching. “Some of these date back to the 80s.”
“The most recent date is from over a decade ago,” Charlotte says. “Fourteen years ago.”
As she’s speaking, I open a new box and my stomach thuds into my toes. There’sanotherthree cassettes in this one—the first dated four years ago—and unfortunately, all three cassettes are identified, along with a year, with the scrawled name of my grandmother.
“Althea,” I gasp out, holding up the three cassettes for Charlotte, all with their handwritten labels facing out.
“Fuck,” Charlotte says.
Bile is rising in my throat. “Could you watch these for me? I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t want to see something I can’t unsee.”
“Of course. As soon as we get the cord, I’ll—"
All of a sudden, Lucky lets out a ferocious little sound that cuts Charlotte off, mid-sentence—a menacing, protective growl, the likes of which I’ve never heard from the pipsqueak before. What’s gotten into him?
Charlotte and I look toward the opened, rolled-up fourth wall of the storage unit, and immediately discover what’s spooked the little guy: a big, tall, bearded dude in black who’s ambling toward us. I’m not a short man at six-four, but this tattooed mountain of a man makes me feel like a middle schooler. Also, he looks mean. Kind of scary. The sort who probably gets into regular bar brawls for the fun of it or who’d get cast as a hitman in a mob movie.
“Carlo,” Charlotte murmurs under her breath. “What’s he doing here?” She sounds distressed to see the man, whoever he is. On an exhale, Charlotte straightens up, smooths her palms down her sweatpants, and mutters, “Fuck.”
11
CHARLOTTE
“Hey, sweetheart,” Carlo says. “You’re looking beautiful, as always.”
I’m quaking with nerves. I look past Carlo’s broad shoulder, praying he’s not here with one of his colleagues. When the coast seems clear, I accept his bear hug with a fake smile. I’m not sure how he tracked me down. He’s definitely got a knack for that. Even more importantly, though,whydid he track me down? When he found me hiding in that hotel room in New York City, he said he’d give me twomonthsto pay back all the money—and I’ve still got a solid five weeks to pull a rabbit out of my hat.
“You found me,” I say, trying to sound relaxed and playful. But to my chagrin, my voice comes out stressed and anxious. I add quickly, “Not that I was hiding from you. How are you?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Carlo motions behind me in the storage unit. “Who’s this?”
Shit. In my panic, I forgot Auggie was here. I turn and find Auggie holding Lucky—with both of them wearing the same wary expression. Yet again, I try to sound light and bright as I say, “Carlo, this is my next-door neighbor, Auggie. We met the other day when I moved into my new place. He’s a vet student.That’s his dog, Lucky. He’s a rescue and who knows what he’s been through, because he’s terrified of strangers, so don’t take it personally when he gives you the stink-eye.”
Crap. I’m rambling from nerves. I do that sometimes, especially lately. I need to pull myself together and remain calm. Let Carlo explain what he’s doing here. For all I know, he’s in Seattle on business and didn’t come here specifically to see me—but while he’s here, anyway, he decided to track me down to say a simple hello. In this storage unit. Out of nowhere. Shit. Suddenly, more words spew out of me before Carlo has even replied to my prior ones. “Auggie, my new, next-door neighbor here, has been kind enough to help me sort through all of these boxes because some of them are too heavy for me to lift by myself.”
Carlo waits a beat, like he’s making sure I’ve finished speaking. Finally, he smiles and says calmly, “Hello, Auggie. Nice to meet you. I’m Carlo, Charlotte’s good friend and former boyfriend.”
“Hey, Carlo. Nice to meet you.”
As the two men shake hands, I ask, “How are Genevieve and the baby?”
“Both great. Thanks for the baby blanket and that cute little stuffed unicorn. Genevieve really appreciated the gesture, Charlotte.”
“My pleasure. I’m thrilled for you both.” There was a time when I stupidly thought Carlo was husband material—the man who’d most likely father myfuture babies. But the minute I found out the truth about what he does for a living, that idea went right out the window, along with our relationship. Now, I can’t even imagine giving birth to this man’s baby and tying myself to him, and his dark world, forevermore.
“I came to give you something,” Carlo says, and every cell in my body seizes in panic as he reaches into his suit pocket. To myrelief, though, Carlo pulls out nothing but a small envelope. With a grin, he says, “You’re hereby invited to Bella’s tenth birthday party.”
A tsunami of relief slams into me. I forgot it was Bella’s birthday month! Carlo’s beloved niece still thinks of me as her Auntie Charlotte, even though Carlo and I broke up two years ago. Even after the breakup, I continued swinging by Bella’s house in New Jersey, the one she shares with her mother, Carlo’s sister, for regular visits, thanks to my free flights perk. But with that benefit gone, I haven’t been back East to see Bella since my layoff. Come to think of it, though, even if I still had unlimited miles, I probably wouldn’t use them to visit Bella in New Jersey right now, despite my deep love for that cutie pie. Once a girl’s stolen a bag of money from a mob boss, she realizes pretty quickly she’d better not step foot in the mob boss’s stomping grounds again, any time soon.
I accept the envelope from Carlo and open it, praying there’s no coded message inside, and to my relief, the card inside is exactly what Carlo said: a colorful, bright invitation to his beloved niece’s tenth birthday party, to be held at the end of this month at the New Jersey home the birthday girl shares with her widowed mother, Angela, Carlo’s sister.
