“I did. I’ve been experimenting with cooking a little, and I find it rather relaxing now.”
“The flashy New Yorker is becoming domestic,” Quinn teased.
Riley laughed. “You sound like my sister. I finally summoned the courage to call her yesterday.”
“Oh? How did it go?”
“Better than expected. Jane was totally shocked to hear about my change of lifestyle, and she and my niece, Mindy, are coming to visit me.” Riley paused. “And I called my father. He was a little short with me at first, but toward the end of the conversation, he mellowed, so I’m hopeful I can repair our relationship. I invited him over too, but he doesn’t like to fly, so I’ll go and see him soon.”
“That’s fantastic news.” Quinn rubbed Riley’s arm. “You must be relieved.”
“Yeah.” Riley rested her hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so supportive.”
“I’m very grateful for you too.” Quinn held her breath at Riley’s touch, wondering if she could feel her temperature rising. Riley’s lips looked insanely kissable—even the findings in the basement couldn’t stop her from constantly imagining what it would feel like to kiss her.
She’d been here every night after work, fighting their attraction. Their silent exchanges were long and searing, but Quinn refrained from acting on impulse. Diving into bed with someone without thinking it through had hurt many women and even caused a marriage to fall apart, and she wasn’t going to repeat her mistakes. Not anymore, and certainly not with Riley, who was way too good for a one-night stand.
Riley’s cheeks flushed, and she let go of Quinn and folded her hands in front of her, focusing on the safe. “Have you tried your birthday?” Talking about the combination of the safe seemed contrived, as the tension between them was palpable, but Riley, too, kept playing the role of a friend.
“Yes. And everyone else’s.”
“There must be a way. Wouldn’t the manufacturer have a reset code?”
“I already looked them up. They went out of business ten years ago, but I could probably drill it open.” Quinn narrowed her eyes at the metal box. “If my grandfather wanted me to find it, the answer must be obvious.”
“Maybe leave it for a while. I’m sure ideas will come to you.” Riley paused. “What about the dates on the backs of the photographs?”
“Hmm…there’s an idea.” Quinn searched for one of the first albums she’d gone through and took out the photograph of her great-grandparents in front of Aster House. It was just a hunch, the first one she’d gravitated toward, as it was a significant one.01/08/1943, it said on the back. Quinn didn’t hold much hope, but she tried it anyway. She put in the combination0108. Nothing happened, so she tried1943, and her breath caught when she heard a clicking sound.
“Did it work?” Riley leaned in and gasped, then jumped up and down in excitement. “Oh my God, you’ve cracked it!” She wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck from behind. “I can’t believe it.”
Quinn’s hand was trembling as she retrieved a small jeweler’s box and an envelope from inside the safe.
“Do you want me to leave?” Riley asked.
“No, please stay.” Quinn opened the box and found a ring. It looked like an engagement ring; gold, with one single diamond.
“It’s beautiful. Is it your grandmother’s?” Riley asked.
“No, it can’t be. She’s still wearing hers, but it must be a family heirloom.” Quinn focused on the envelope and found a letter inside, addressed to her. Seeing her grandfather’s handwriting again made her eyes well up, and she swallowed away her tears to read the letter out loud.
Dear Quinnie,
I sincerely hope it is you who finds this letter. I’m writing this in the idle optimism that one day you will move into Aster House and discover the basement. As the eldest grandchild in my bloodline, Aster House was always meant to be yours, and I know how much you loved it. I cannot express how much I regret wasting away our family fortune, but most of all, your and your brother’s future.
This letter is for your mother too, my only daughter, whom I love dearly. She will not talk to me after what I did, and I don’t blame her. She lost her life, her restaurant that she poured her heart and soul into. Your mother and brother never felt a connection to the house the way you did, and I doubt she’d read this letter to the end. Therefore you, my dear, are my only hope of some form of redemption.
I’ll admit, I haven’t lived my life like the good Christian that your grandmother was, and I didn’t always follow the law. The basement was originally built as a wine cellar, but my father also used it to store cash and host illegal gambling nights. When I took over the house, I followed in his footsteps and continued to host small events for men of high standing in our circles. This in complete discretion, of course. Your grandmother never went into my office. She was aware there was a secret passageway and a basement, and perhaps she even had an idea of what went on down there on Saturday nights, but if she did, she turned a blind eye and told herself we were in a business meeting. Your grandmother is an angel, and I never deserved her.
Gambling is the devil’s game. I followed him like a fool and fell into darkness. During my private events, the stakes were reasonable. It was simply a fun pastime that felt exciting and special. We were a secret society that only few were lucky enough to join. When I started traveling to Reno for business on a regular basis, I spent my nights in casinos and lost control. It all went downhill from there. I kept going, hoping to earn back what I’d lost, but of course, I kept losing because that’s the nature of the game.
And then, one day, it was too late. I’d accumulated so much debt, borrowing against my properties, land, hotels, restaurants, and even Aster House, that I couldn’t keep up with my payments anymore. It was then that I realized I’d failed everyone I loved and there was no coming back from it.
When I knew I was going to lose the house, I saw no other option than to save what I could. Aster House was my legacy, after all. It was, in a way, what defined me. It gave me a sense of pride and a feeling of belonging. That week, I sent your grandmother to a friend’s house, as I didn’t want her to witness the bailiffs taking away her things, and I hid as much as I could in the basement, hoping no one would find the passageway behind the bookcase in my office.
I have not told anyone about the basement. Only after my passing will my debts be cleared, and if the new owners find it, they will claim ownership. If they don’t and Aster House becomes yours, you will be in charge of our legacy that is buried under the house. Apart from some good wines and antiques that I desperately tried to save from being confiscated, most of what I’ve hidden is of sentimental value. Perhaps that was a mistake on my behalf, but I felt it belonged there. Your great-grandmother’s engagement ring is yours too. Please keep it in the family.
You’re in college now, and I’m so proud of you. I have no doubt you will have a very successful career, and I know you will find a way to make this your home again, my dearest Quinnie, because Aster House is where you belong. Your roots lie between the thick walls of a home that was lovingly built in a very special place.
