Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
The inheritance, the restorations, could all be mine, if not for the crazy stipulation about the heir. I don’t want to have a baby with just anyone to appease a dead man I’ve never even met. I could never do that.
And then it hits me; maybe … maybe there’s a way to play this game without losing myself. Maybe I can take on living here in the mansion for the year and complete the restorations, see the paintings come alive again, and just choose to fail the other part. I won’t get my inheritance, but this has never been about money for me. And at least I’ll have lived a year like no other. Sure, I feel bad for Axel if it means he won’t get his share, but it’s not like I made the rules, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t let the thought of me suffering sway him into doing anything he doesn’t want to do. The thought of Axel reminds me of something, and I glance at Gavin over my shoulder.
“Has Axel agreed to the terms?” I ask.
Gavin nods.
“I see.”
So, the ball is well and truly in my court then. A year living the dream and then go back to my old life, or just leave now. My fingers brush feather light across the Vermeer again, lingering on the glazes, on the subtle light, on the secret life of the painting beneath the layers of time. I close my eyes and inhale. In that delicious moment suspended in time, I make my decision. I breathe out and turn to face Gavin,
“Yes,” I whisper, almost to myself. “I’ll do it.”
Gavin clears his throat softly. “Sorry, Miss Button, what was that?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll undertake the restoration work, and I’ll fulfill the stipulations of the will.”
Gavin tries to keep his expression neutral, but the small smile he gives me seems approving. “Very well. I will arrange everything for you to begin immediately.”
I take one last long look at the Vermeer, letting the light from the perfectly set bulbs fall across the face of the old woman on the screen. Her eyes seem to glitter. A thrill surges through me, a mix of fear, exhilaration, and anticipation. This is madness. It’s chaos. But it’s also exactly the life I’ve always dreamed of in its purest, most artistic form.
For now, I decide I will step into this new-old world. And I will see what it can give me, one painting and one discovery at a time.
My lips curve as I smile at the wrinkled woman. You will be splendid again.
Chapter
Twelve
JO
Gavin’s expression is friendly, but his voice is crisp and professional as he hands me a small thumb drive, the metal glinting in the soft light of the vault.
“This is what your father wanted you to have once you agreed to the stipulations. I suggest you review it alone.”
I take it, feeling its cold weight in the palm of my hand. I curl my fingers around it as though closing it off from the world and about what it may contain. My mind is already buzzing with curiosity, anticipation… and trepidation.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
Gavin straightens, nods once, then turns to leave. “I’ll leave you to it, Miss Button. The door will lock automatically when you leave, and I’ll get someone to set it up to recognize you later this evening. If you need anything in the meantime, you know where to find me.”
I watch him go, and the sudden quiet of the vault feels overwhelming and yet welcoming. This is my space now. Just me and the paintings. The faint hum of the climate control system is the only sound until I begin to walk towards the area that will be my workstation. I set the thumb drive carefully on the desk beside the brand-new laptop that has already been set up for me. The machine is sleek, ready, and no doubt state-of-the-art.
I sit down, and my fingers hover over the USB port, hesitating. There’s a strange mixture of fear twisting in my stomach. I want to know what’s on the drive. I need to know. And yet, at the same time, I almost dread finding out what it contains. What illusions is it going to shatter? Already, I have found out that my mother lied to me my whole life? What else is there?
I take a deep breath and slide the drive into the slot. I run my fingers over the control pad, and the laptop hums to life. The desktop screen flashes on, and a video begins playing automatically. My father appears on the screen, seated in a richly appointed study, dressed impeccably, but looking softer than I remember him to look in the pictures I have seen in various business journals and tabloids over the years. His bright blue, almost violet eyes, so like mine, meet the camera, and I feel an odd jolt, as though he’s looking directly at me. For a moment, I feel like if I reached out and touched him, he would feel it, and I have to make a conscious effort to stop my hand from rising up from the arm of my chair.