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“Lux, my stomach’s going mad.” Alba steps into the sitting room, patting her belly. “I am so hungry.”
“All right,” I reply.
I wedge the diary behind a stack of pillows. The thought occurs to me that Mom and Uncle Red must have crossed the line. I remember a few places that Mom and I frequented. My veins surge with fire. Maybe one day, I will take Victor up on that offer to fight. I suppose he will show me a few boxing stances, and I can beat at a punching bag until all my aggression leaves.
“What the fuck? I’ve never been aggressive,” I mutter while grabbing my leather jacket off the coat rack by the front door. Vic and I haven’t done any target practice since Graham and Alba’s arrival. So that might be the reason I am restless.
As Alba steps out with the keys to Graham’s Land Rover, she tosses them to me. “You drive.”
I clasp them in my hands and shoot them back over. “But I don't know how.”
“You don't?”
“I'm from New York. I have a ninety-year-old great auntie who never got behind the wheel.”
Alba sighs and gets into the driver’s side. “Well, just so you know.” She slams a foot onto the gas, and our backs press against the seats. “I'm an arsehole when I haven't had food.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll pray angels give us traveling grace. Speaking of angels, amaryllis is associated with the angel of prosperity. The lotus symbolizes spirituality, however.”
“Ooh, prosperity, I like that. Oh,” she pauses from chatting to look me over, “this is wedding talk, isn’t it? I’d much prefer an update on your mom and Charles.”
“Could be engagement-planning talk, though? How does that sound?” I cork a brow as we coast down the street.
“Lux, I thought I broke the news to you—”
“That you’re notbigon parties.”
“Nope. I’m an outdoorsy—”
“Sunflowers for a rustic theme. Or dried echinops have a silverish effect. I also remember blue’s your favorite color, so I’m leaning toward the echinops.”
“Sheesh, you’re a miniature version of Vic. Anyhow, if you can change the subject, I can too. That picture of Charles, your mom, and you at your fifth birthday is what I last saw, right?”
“Yes. So, echinops and shades of blue, it is?”
“How much further have you gone? Did she sleep with that delectable man yet?”
“Alba!”
She chuckles and hits the corner so fast that we imitate old black-and-white films where the actors exaggerate their movements.
I knead the back of my neck. “Something in the back of my mind screams that they must’ve crossed the line somehow. How would I recall the place I just last saw Charles Everhart? The lab Vic and I crossed paths with him was in the Bronx. Uncle Red and my father were Upper-East Side type of guys. Dad had a reason to be in Harlem when I grew up. He sacrificed and moved there so my mom could be close to her parents. Charles was by no means a snob, but my mind can’t be playing tricks on me if I remembered that place.”
“Our brains work in mysterious ways, Lux. Shielding us from traumas and recalling fond memories at just a single inhale of something sweet. Speaking of, you had Cinderella for a mother. Gina made cookies and cakes. On occasion, she was just nice enough to offer Mr. Sexy a few sweets.”
“You're just as bad as my friend, Aliyah.” I allow my head to drop back against the leather headrest. “Reading Mom’s diary reminded me of more places she and I went to see him. I believe there’s a high probability that they snuck around once I was a little older.”
Alba pats my shoulder. “Honey, you shared some of the diary. Your father belittled her. She stayed for . . . you. Gina Whitson was Super Woman.”
I groan. “Let’s return to the discussion of dried pampas grass—”
“Grass.”
“Ya’know, with obsidian vases as a contrast. The wedding will be unique.” I chuckle.
“No way! I’ll marry Graham in a shack overlooking the ocean. You’ll throw around a few flowers—rustic and classy. Now, keep reading, tell me all about it. Your mom was beautiful. Charles was handsome. If you really need, I might just read the diary for you and tell you—”
“I’ll stick it out, thank you very much.” I wave her off half-heartedly. She doesn’t know about the fire, and that one day, Charles wouldn’t be so handsome.That might be the reason he murdered Momma.I bite my lip, though. The more I read, the more I see my father in a different light.NotUncle Red.
