The Keeper of Happy Endings(101)

“Isn’t it?”

“Do I need to point out the obvious? She didn’t come looking for me either.”

“Why would she look for you? She thought you were dead.”

Anson’s head came up sharply. “Dead?”

Finally, she seemed to have his attention. “Your father had already sent her away when news came that you were alive, and he was perfectly fine with letting her go on believing you were dead. And to let you believe she’d walked out on you. He didn’t just send her away. He made sure she’d have no reason to ever come back.”

Anson met her gaze with strained calm. “That’s quite a story.”

“Your sister can verify what I’m saying if you don’t want to take my word. She was crushed when Soline left, but she only knew what your father told her—the same thing he told you. Then she found the ledger and started putting the pieces together. She tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t let her. She thought you might listen to me.”

For an instant, Rory thought she saw something flicker in Anson’s eyes, a chink in his icy armor, but it was gone almost instantly. “I understand my sister having a blind spot. They were close once. But I’m curious. What is all this to you? After all these years, why do you care? You’re a bit old for piggyback rides and camping trips with Grandpa. What is it you see happening here?”

“Why do I care?” Rory echoed, stung to the point of tears by his cavalier response. “Soline is my grandmother. And even if she wasn’t, she’s still my friend. I don’t want anything from you. I’m just trying to right a forty-year-old wrong. Because I know what she went through when you went missing, the hell of not knowing if you were alive or dead, to never know what happened or even say goodbye. I know what that feels like. I know it firsthand.” She turned to wipe the tears from her face, mortified to have veered into such personal territory.

“Ms. Grant . . .”

When she looked up, Anson was holding out a crisply folded handkerchief. The monogram was in dark blue now, but it was there. A.W.P. She took it, blotting her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get emotional, but this is a lot to digest for me, too, and I really do know what it’s like to lose someone the way she did. To never know . . .”

His entire bearing seemed to change as he leaned forward, arms folded on the edge of the table. “Your husband?”

The lines around his mouth and eyes had softened, making him look younger—and so much like Camilla that she felt herself relax. “My fiancé, Hux. Sorry, his name is actually Matthew, but his last name is Huxley so everyone calls him Hux.”

“What happened?”

“He’s with the MSF—Doctors Without Borders—in South Sudan. He’s a pediatrician. There was a raid early one morning at the clinic where he was working. A truck pulled up and abducted him and two others. It’s been nine months, and no one seems to know anything.”

“I’m sorry. That’s a tough part of the world right now, so much unrest and so many factions with their own agendas. But don’t give up. His abductors, whoever they are, know any chance of getting what they want begins and ends with keeping their hostages alive. It may feel hopeless, but I have some experience here. The IFRC works with governments all over the world to bring our guys home. Not hearing anything doesn’t mean nothing’s being done.”

“Thank you for that,” Rory murmured, grateful for the words of comfort. “It’s hard to hold on when there hasn’t been a shred of news, not knowing how long is too long to hold out hope. I can’t imagine living this way for forty years. I guess I hoped . . .”

“That after forty years apart, Soline and I would ride off into the sunset while the credits rolled?” He settled back in his chair, as if needing to put distance between them. “That we’d all become one big family, with birthday parties and Sunday dinners? I’m afraid it’s a little late for that.”

Rory felt her cheeks go hot. In some tiny corner of her heart, it was exactly what she’d hoped. And for a moment, she’d glimpsed a side of him that might have made it possible. The man who had offered his handkerchief to a woman in distress. But that Anson had vanished the moment they returned to the subject of Soline.

“You don’t believe in happy endings?” she asked quietly.

“Not for a very long time.”

“Is that why you never married?”

He stiffened. “I fail to see how that’s relevant—or, for that matter, any of your business. But if it helps, let’s just say I’m privy to certain facts that you’re not.”

Rory folded the handkerchief and handed it back. “I don’t know what that means, but if you’d just come to Boston—”

“There is no chance of a happy ending here, Miss Grant. Sometimes things are just too far gone to be saved.” He stood then with a cool nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an early day tomorrow.” He tossed a handful of bills on the table. “I’m sorry about Matthew. I hope it turns out well for you both.”

Rory’s heart sank as she watched him go. She hadn’t let herself believe the years could have hardened him enough to turn his back on the woman he’d loved so deeply all those years ago, or slam the door on a possible relationship with his daughter, but they clearly had.