The Davenports(99)

“Good. I think I smell eggs.”

When they entered the breakfast room, John was already there. His plate was laden with food, smeared like he was onto his second round. Steam from the fresh pot of coffee he poured in front of him made his expression difficult to read. He was dressed like he was going out.

“Where’s Mama and Daddy?” Helen asked, sliding into a seat next to John.

He shrugged. His eyes looked red, like he was up all night. The tightness around the corners of his mouth let Olivia know his night had been just as unpleasant as theirs. He handed them each a plate as Olivia sat down. The spread in front of them made Olivia’s mouth water. Eggs, bacon, and copious amounts of buttered toast, the Davenport siblings ate in silence.

“What is it, Helen?” John said, annoyed. She had been kicking the leg of the table for the past few minutes.

“Don’t snap at her like that,” Olivia said.

“I wasn’t snapping,” His face softened and he apologized, cutting Olivia a look to remind her he was the oldest. She rolled her eyes.

Helen took a slice of toast off his plate. Before he could say anything, she asked, “How’d it go with Amy-Rose?”

Olivia’s head perked up.

John flinched. “Daddy didn’t take it well. She overheard and now . . .” His voice trailed off. He shook his head. His eyes seemed unfocused as he gazed at the plate in front of him.

“Uh, what am I missing?” Olivia asked. “What did Daddy not take well and what does it have to do with Amy-Rose?”

“John is in love with her,” Helen provided.

Olivia really had been missing out. She felt an odd lurch as it dawned on her that her relationship with Helen wasn’t the only one she had neglected.

“I let her down. Again.” He scrubbed a day’s worth of beard growing in. “I don’t think I can make it right.”

Helen grasped his forearm. “What did you do now?”

“I didn’t step in soon enough when Greenie embarrassed her, and then again when Daddy leveraged my inheritance against a relationship between us.” Both Helen and Olivia gasped. “I thought buying her a salon would make her stay . . . and then she heard last night . . .”

Helen now kicked his shin. “You bought her a salon? Oh, John. Did you think you could just bat your eyelashes and Amy-Rose would forget everything she’s been working for? That she’d let someone else control what she has every right to earn? Would you expect that of me?” She shook her head. “Men.”

“She was so disappointed about losing Mr. Spencer’s barbershop.”

“So you thought buying her one would solve everything,” said Helen.

Olivia was still confused. “So, you’re in love with Amy-Rose, and you’re in love with Mr. Lawrence—”

“You told her?” John’s eyes snapped to Helen’s.

“You knew?” Olivia’s mind was reeling. There was so much she didn’t see. Her gaze fell to the stack of letters she’d brought to the table from the basket in the foyer. “This is addressed to Amy-Rose. It’s from Georgia. Maybe you should bring it to her. Apologize. Again.”

John grabbed the letter. “I recognize this seal. It was broken on all the envelopes she had from the letters her father sent to her mother. I think it’s his family’s crest. They didn’t know it then, but they stopped coming when he died.” His whole body bounced with his knee, all the tension of a coiled spring.

“It’s unopened.” Olivia tried to take the letter back, but he pulled it closer, as if holding it would make Amy-Rose appear. “And that looks like a woman’s handwriting.”

He stood and left the room. They listened to his frantic footsteps echoing through the house. Then quiet.

The coffee was strong and bitter; Helen drank it without hesitation. Olivia poured sugar and cream until the liquid in her cup was as pale as unvarnished oak. She was about to reach for the bacon on John’s plate when her sister tapped her arm and pointed over her shoulder.

John re-entered the room. His hands shook. A torn sheet of paper in his hand trembled like a leaf in the wind. Olivia and Helen exchanged glances as he crushed the page in his fist and threw it on the table. Olivia watched helplessly as he collapsed into the chair. His eyes filled with tears. Helen smoothed out the paper, her own eyes filling as she read.

“She’s gone?” Olivia breathed.

John nodded. He still held the letter addressed to Amy-Rose. “I’ll have to find a way to get this to her.”

“Where did she say she was going?”

“She didn’t.”

“John—”

He waved away their words. “I’ll get this to her,” he repeated, holding the letter from Georgia, determination now etched in his face. “What’s the next problem to solve?”

Helen wiped her eyes and spoke around a mouth full of food. “We need a plan to get Olivia to Philadelphia.”

“Helen, I’m not going. It’s too late now and it’s not where I should be. There’s plenty of work to do here. I told you there’s no need for a ruse, or some elaborate plan. I choose to stay. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Olivia knew she’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words passed her lips. “Can’t” sounded like a dare. And there was nothing her siblings loved more than a challenge.