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“Maybe in a few years, they’ll both be all grown up and making the kind of money we only ever dreamed about,” Will said.
“Danny is a brilliant scientist and mathematician,” Ella affirmed. “Who knows where he’ll end up?”
A few people in front of them in line, a man in a red cap, had a great deal of trouble deciding what to order. He asked one question after another, humming and hawing as the fish and chips dealer struggled not to roll his eyes. Ella and Will exchanged glances and snickered. Will then took Ella’s hand in his again as though it was an impulse.
Ella’s lips opened in surprise. It was both exhilarating and so normal to hold Will’s hand. Since Thursday night’s discovery of the leather book (and the make-out session), they hadn’t discussed where they stood with each other.
“Will…” Ella began, suddenly terrified.
Will spread his hand across her cheek and swept his thumb across her chin. His touch was so tender.
“Will, what are we doing?” Ella asked, her voice cracking.
“What do you think we’re doing?” Will whispered so that nobody else in line for the fish and chips could hear.
Ella’s eyes searched his. “Are we…?” She dared to ask him if they were back together, if this meant that they could restore their family, and if this meant that they would tour as Pottersville again.
Suddenly, Will removed a small velvet box from his pocket. As panic rolled through her, Ella stared at the box as though it was covered in acid. Then, her eyes lifted, Will and Ella stared at one another for a painfully long moment, neither speaking.
How many times had they told one another that they didn’t “need” to get married like everyone else? How many times had they assured each other that they were happy enough?
Yet here they were on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of October, and Will had decided to pop the question.
Before Ella could find her voice, her phone buzzed with a call. Ella stuttered, grabbed the phone from her pocket, and answered, “Alana. Hey. What’s up?” All the while, she maintained eye contact with Will, whose face evoked all the love in the world. Slowly, he slid the engagement ring back into his pocket, nodding. Ella’s heart beat so quickly that she thought it might burst through her chest.
“Hey!” Alana sounded breathless. “He’s analyzed the handwriting. I’m headed back to Main Street with a copy of his statement.”
“Wow. What did he say?”
“It’s a match!” Alana cried. “She’s such a snake, Ella. Gosh, I can hardly handle my own anger right now.”
“Ella!”
Another voice rang out from the crowd. Ella’s stomach swirled with hunger and anxiety. Quickly, she turned to peer through the throngs of people for the source of the voice. Finally, the source of the voice, Julia, pushed through the crowd, her eyes frantic.
Behind Julia was a very familiar face. The sight of it sent shivers up and down Ella’s spine. Her lips formed a round O, heavy with questions.
This man was the dark, arrogant, six-foot-three renowned public figure from all American television screens. This was Quentin Copperfield, a nightly news anchor based in New York City, and the elder brother all of them had begun to forget – if only because he’d separated himself so entirely from the rest of the family. Here he was, charging toward Ella with anger marred across his face.
Ella and Will quickly stepped out of the fish and chips line and prepared for Quentin’s attack. Will’s hand cupped Ella’s elbow for support. Suddenly, both Julia and Quentin were upon them as Quentin growled, his eyes penetrating, “What in the hell have you done to Mom?”
“I tried to tell him that today isn’t the day for this,” Julia said, fiddling with the hair around her face. “There’s too much going on. And besides, it’s not like he knows the entire story.”
Quentin bucked around, giving Julia another of his demonic expressions. “The only story I need to know is that our mother called me three times this week, crying so desperately that I could hardly make out what she said. Eventually, I heard the name, ‘Ella,’ and put two and two together.” He spun back to glare at Ella as he demanded, “Did you storm back into that house and try to make our mother pay for everything that happened twenty-five years ago? Because that’s cruel, Ella. She’s an old woman.” Quentin seethed, then added, “I told you both that we needed to move Mom down to New York City so that I could keep an eye on her. Nobody believed me. Now, she’s at her wits’ end. And here I am, taking another day away from my very important career to clean up yet another Copperfield mess.”
Ella’s jaw dropped. The sheer insanity of what he said shocked her. As Quentin huffed, Ella and Julia locked eyes in understanding.
“We need to talk,” Ella said, her voice low and sinister.
Maybe it was something about her tone that made Quentin nod his head, his nostrils flared. Sure, he would hear her out— but he wanted to let her know that he wasn’t pleased about it.
“I don’t have much time,” Quentin affirmed. “I need to get back to The Copperfield House to see our mother.”
“You can see her once we explain,” Ella said simply. She then turned to meet Will’s gaze, her heart lurching with regret. Only moments ago, Will had procured a little velvet box in preparation to pop the question that Ella had never thought she’d hear. How funny and tragic it was that they still couldn’t get engaged, even when their hearts cried out for it.
“Will? You and the kids should stay here,” Ella offered. “Eat some fish and chips and enjoy the concerts. Quentin, Julia, and I won’t be too long.”
Will placed a strong and tender hand across her shoulder. “Promise you’re okay?”
