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Very well.
It’s at maximum capacity.
“She did indeed. This house is incredibly special to our family. Maybe …” Martha glances over at me with a sheepish grin. “Maybe one day you and Henry will have a son and the tradition will continue.”
“Mom—” Henry’s face flushes as he adds a shot of Coke to his glass of whiskey.
I shut the fridge door. “What if we have girls?” I’m a writer. I can play this imaginary game.
“Well, I suppose times are changing. Should you have all girls, I think your firstborn girl should have this house. Don’t you?” Martha looks to her son for approval.
Henry eyes me for a second.
“Henry, what exactly was wrong with all the things I left you?” she asks while rifling through the drawers. “I don’t recognize a single thing in this kitchen. You could have at least put your new items in the same spot. It’s what makes most sense.”
He smirks, focused on his drink while swirling it. It’s a jab at me, but Martha doesn’t know it.Yet.
“Ask Serena. She’s the one who insisted we get new stuff. And she organized everything.”
“In that case, it’s fine.” Martha smiles at me. “Henry’s never had a girlfriend. You can do anything you want to the house if you stay with my Henry.”
He coughs, slowly shaking his head. “Thanks, Mom.”
“How did you two meet?” She slides the chopped onions into the soup pot.
“I was signing books at a bookstore in Cincinnati, and Henry was in my line.” I lean against the edge of the counter and cross my arms.
“Really? What do you write?”
“Literary biographies. I love history, studying the human condition, and finding common threads among us. There’s nothing better than being transported to another time in another person’s shoes who has lived a life rich in experiences, conflict, scandal, and even a little peril. I’m a sucker for tragedy and love.”
“I can’t wait to check out your books. And when did you start reading, Henry?”
He gulps the rest of his whisky and Coke and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was looking for a gift for my neighbor, and I saw Serena. She gave me the come-hither look, so I jumped in her line. She can’t get enough of my eyes and my pretty little head.”
Martha laughs. “Now that sounds more realistic. You do have beautiful eyes, just like your father’s. All the Bechtel men have had beautiful blue eyes.”
“Tell me more about the Bechtel men.” I rest my hands on the edge of the counter.
“Well, I’m sure Henry told you his great grandfather built this house. It’s called the Afina—” Martha starts to give me details.
“Why is it called the Afina house?” I interrupt.
Henry frowns at my question while refilling his glass.
I stare at the bottle before making eye contact with him again.
“Sorry, would you like a glass,darling?”
I slowly shake my head.
“Henry’s great grandfather, Hermann, named it after the love of his life.”
My heart constricts while my skin tingles with goose bumps.She knows!
“A Siamese cat named Afina. She died suddenly. Hermann found her dead the morning after his first night in the house. Can you imagine?” Martha slowly shakes her head.
“A cat?” I say, barely a whisper.
