Chapter 4 - THE DESK THAT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO LEAVE
“Both of you?” Evelyn whispered.
Nora nodded.
“Me and Owen.”
Damian studied his niece.
“Tell me exactly what your father said.”
Nora took a breath.
“He said Grandpa had given him a problem, but the papers inside the desk might finally let him fix it.”
“Did he say anything about harming you?”
“No.”
She looked ashamed.
“He said he could remove us from the family business. Make sure neither of us ever had a claim.”
Damian's expression softened.
“Nora, you and Owen are family whether you own a single share or not.”
She looked as if nobody had told her that in years.
Vincent returned.
“The truck is being held at the service gate.”
“Good,” Damian said. “Bring the crate into the carriage garage.”
Scarlett appeared at the end of the corridor.
“Damian? Darling, everyone's looking for you.”
He turned.
“We're dealing with a family matter.”
Scarlett looked at Nora.
Then Evelyn.
Then me.
Her smile disappeared.
“Julia's been filling your heads with nonsense, hasn't she?”
Damian stepped forward.
“Careful.”
“I organized this evening for your family's reputation.”
“You sold my mother's jewelry.”
Scarlett went pale.
“We needed liquid assets.”
“Who is we?”
She didn't answer.
Damian held her gaze.
“Go back to the ballroom. The auction is suspended.”
“You can't just suspend it.”
“Watch me.”
For once, Scarlett had nothing to say.
Twenty minutes later, we stood inside the heated carriage garage.
The large shipping crate had been opened.
Inside was the original oak writing desk.
Nora immediately touched its left drawer.
There was the little brass handle.
Below it, almost invisible, a carved star.
“Grandpa's desk,” she whispered.
Evelyn approached slowly.
She rested her hand on the polished wood.
“Your father wrote letters at this desk every Sunday,” she told Damian. “Even when he could barely hold a pen.”
Damian looked at the brass key Lily had given him.
“Let's see what Michael wanted.”
He inserted it beneath the writing surface.
A narrow compartment clicked open.
Inside was a second lock.
Evelyn took a small silver key from the rosary chain around her neck.
I remembered seeing her touch that chain whenever she was nervous.
Damian looked at her.
“You've had it all these years?”
She nodded.
“Your father told me never to keep both keys together.”
“Why?”
“He was afraid someone would force one of us to surrender them.”
Damian used the second key.
A concealed drawer slid forward.
It was nearly empty.
A rectangle in the velvet lining showed where a packet had once rested.
Someone had removed it.
Michael.
At least, that was what we assumed.
But beneath the lining, I noticed a small piece of folded blue paper.
“Sir?”
Damian lifted the velvet.
The paper was caught beneath a wooden seam.
He unfolded it.
There were three handwritten lines.
The shares are not the inheritance.
The responsibility is.
Remember the winter at Pier Seventeen.
Evelyn began crying.
Damian stared.
“Pier Seventeen?”
“That's where your father kept his old harbor office.”
“Why would that matter?”
Evelyn looked at Nora.
“Do you remember a blue winter coat?”
Nora blinked.
“My coat?”
“The one your grandfather bought you.”
Nora nodded slowly.
“I haven't thought about that coat in years.”
“What happened to it?”
“I gave it away.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Of course you did.”
Damian looked between them.
“Mother, what aren't you telling me?”
Evelyn wiped her face.
“Your father kept a photograph from that winter. He carried it inside his pocket watch.”
“His pocket watch?”
“The gold one with the cracked crystal.”
I remembered the auction display.
A vintage gold watch had been placed beside a silver cigarette case.
Lot twenty-six.
“Mrs. Valenti,” I said, “that watch is downstairs.”
Damian turned.
“What?”
“Scarlett put it in the auction.”
Nora looked horrified.
“Grandpa's watch?”
I nodded.
Evelyn gripped the desk.
“The watch has a hidden compartment beneath the photograph.”
Damian was already reaching for his phone.
Vincent checked the auction records.
His face changed.
“Sir, lot twenty-six has been sold.”
“To whom?”
Vincent hesitated.
“Michael Valenti.”
Damian clenched his jaw.
“Then we get it back.”
But Evelyn shook her head.
“Michael doesn't know how to open the compartment.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your father designed the catch himself.”
I almost smiled with relief.
Then Evelyn said something that took it away.
“Unless Scarlett told him.”
Damian frowned.
“How would Scarlett know?”
Evelyn looked directly at me.
“Because last month, Scarlett asked me to show her how the watch opened.”
A silence followed.
“Why?” Damian asked.
May you like
Evelyn's voice trembled.
“SHE SAID SHE WANTED TO PUT A PHOTOGRAPH OF HERSELF INSIDE IT—SO YOU WOULD ALWAYS CARRY HER CLOSE TO YOUR HEART.”
