tried—
really tried—to fall in love with several of the men she dated; she tried to develop real relationships with them, but a piece of her—the most important piece, HAUNTING OLIV IA
15
the deepest piece—just didn’t come out of its hiding place. It had once. With Zach. Maybe you loved like that only once.
She hoped not. She’d last loved like that when she was sixteen. If that was her last hurrah—her only hurrah—she was in big trouble.
And no, Mommy Dearest, you can’t come with me tomorrow. Tomorrow, Friday, January thirtieth, was the day she was to receive her father’s letter from his lawyer. An envelope with her name on it. To Be Opened No Sooner or Later Than January 30.
Olivia had no idea what the date could possibly mean. Why January 30? It was just an arbitrary day, but perhaps it meant something to her father.
Her sister Amanda had already received her inheritance letter a month ago (also on a specific day); it had stated that Amanda would inherit their father’s million-dollar brownstone on the Upper West Side— if she followed a bunch of ridiculous and arbitrary rules for a month, such as not looking out of certain windows or going in certain rooms. Her father had even arranged for a watchdog to ensure that Amanda followed his rules to the letter—literally. That watchdog ended up becoming Amanda’s husband. The happy couple—
who donated the brownstone to a children’s charity—was now on an extended honeymoon.
Olivia was so happy for Amanda. She was still getting to know Amanda and Ivy, her other sister, who was engaged. Both my sisters are getting on with their love lives, and I’m stuck getting fixed up by my mother.
She had no idea what her father had in store for her—or if she’d bother jumping through his hoops. He owned only two other properties: a cot-16
Janelle Taylor
tage in Maine and an old inn in New Jersey. He wouldn’t leave her the Maine house. Not after what happened there.
The summer she had turned seventeen, Olivia had gone back to her father’s cottage for her annual summer vacation with him and her sisters. It had taken so much out of her to agree to the trip. But Zachary hadn’t been in town. His family had moved away, she’d heard. No one knew where. She kept hoping she might hear something of what became of him, but no one knew. And no one really cared. Zach Archer, whose father was famous for falling down drunk in the middle of the street during the day, and whose mother was famous for sleeping with other women’s husbands for small favors, didn’t have much of a chance in Blueberry, Maine, a coastal town of wealthy year-rounders and summer tourists. When Olivia had known him, people liked to shake their heads and say, “That poor kid.” Zach had hated that.
Perhaps William left me the New Jersey house, Olivia thought, heading into the bathroom. She’d never thought of her father as “Dad”; she’d always referred to him as her father, or William. She had called him dad just once, thinking it might soften him, make him see inside her, listen to her, but it hadn’t.
Anyway, she was sure the bequest would come with some silly rules about doors to open and windows not to raise. Maybe she’d accept the terms of the will and donate the house to a charity close to her heart, as Amanda had done with her inheritance. Olivia would probably have to spend a month at the house—and the idea of spending a month in her father’s world made her faintly sick—but she could always commute to Manhattan from New HAUNTING OLIV IA
17
Jersey. She’d need more time to handle all her boss’s work while she was on maternity leave anyway.
Olivia headed into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and took out the jar of $100-an-ounce cucumber nighttime moisturizer that Camilla had swiped for her from the beauty department’s goodie bags (the magazine got so many expensive freebies). She breathed in the fresh scent and looked at herself in the
really tried—to fall in love with several of the men she dated; she tried to develop real relationships with them, but a piece of her—the most important piece, HAUNTING OLIV IA
15
the deepest piece—just didn’t come out of its hiding place. It had once. With Zach. Maybe you loved like that only once.
She hoped not. She’d last loved like that when she was sixteen. If that was her last hurrah—her only hurrah—she was in big trouble.
And no, Mommy Dearest, you can’t come with me tomorrow. Tomorrow, Friday, January thirtieth, was the day she was to receive her father’s letter from his lawyer. An envelope with her name on it. To Be Opened No Sooner or Later Than January 30.
Olivia had no idea what the date could possibly mean. Why January 30? It was just an arbitrary day, but perhaps it meant something to her father.
Her sister Amanda had already received her inheritance letter a month ago (also on a specific day); it had stated that Amanda would inherit their father’s million-dollar brownstone on the Upper West Side— if she followed a bunch of ridiculous and arbitrary rules for a month, such as not looking out of certain windows or going in certain rooms. Her father had even arranged for a watchdog to ensure that Amanda followed his rules to the letter—literally. That watchdog ended up becoming Amanda’s husband. The happy couple—
who donated the brownstone to a children’s charity—was now on an extended honeymoon.
Olivia was so happy for Amanda. She was still getting to know Amanda and Ivy, her other sister, who was engaged. Both my sisters are getting on with their love lives, and I’m stuck getting fixed up by my mother.
She had no idea what her father had in store for her—or if she’d bother jumping through his hoops. He owned only two other properties: a cot-16
Janelle Taylor
tage in Maine and an old inn in New Jersey. He wouldn’t leave her the Maine house. Not after what happened there.
The summer she had turned seventeen, Olivia had gone back to her father’s cottage for her annual summer vacation with him and her sisters. It had taken so much out of her to agree to the trip. But Zachary hadn’t been in town. His family had moved away, she’d heard. No one knew where. She kept hoping she might hear something of what became of him, but no one knew. And no one really cared. Zach Archer, whose father was famous for falling down drunk in the middle of the street during the day, and whose mother was famous for sleeping with other women’s husbands for small favors, didn’t have much of a chance in Blueberry, Maine, a coastal town of wealthy year-rounders and summer tourists. When Olivia had known him, people liked to shake their heads and say, “That poor kid.” Zach had hated that.
Perhaps William left me the New Jersey house, Olivia thought, heading into the bathroom. She’d never thought of her father as “Dad”; she’d always referred to him as her father, or William. She had called him dad just once, thinking it might soften him, make him see inside her, listen to her, but it hadn’t.
Anyway, she was sure the bequest would come with some silly rules about doors to open and windows not to raise. Maybe she’d accept the terms of the will and donate the house to a charity close to her heart, as Amanda had done with her inheritance. Olivia would probably have to spend a month at the house—and the idea of spending a month in her father’s world made her faintly sick—but she could always commute to Manhattan from New HAUNTING OLIV IA
17
Jersey. She’d need more time to handle all her boss’s work while she was on maternity leave anyway.
Olivia headed into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and took out the jar of $100-an-ounce cucumber nighttime moisturizer that Camilla had swiped for her from the beauty department’s goodie bags (the magazine got so many expensive freebies). She breathed in the fresh scent and looked at herself in the