It’s hard to know whether Vivian’s mom had gotten herself so deeply in debt because of her detached relationship with money, her grief over her late husband, or her burgeoning dementia. Perhaps it was all three factors. When Vivian reviewed the pattern of her mother’s reckless spending and bad investments, she noticed spikes around meaningful dates: her father’s birthday, the anniversary of his death. And then there was the recent, alarming surge in spending over the past couple of months, which coincided with the onset of her mother’s illness.
“So how does the Knox fit into this?” Rachel asks.
“It was formed by these families, as a club. A way for them to strategize about the opium trade. And to socialize, I suppose.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Like an opium mafia. I never realized that’s how the Knox started. Maybe that’s why it’s always been so secretive!”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, didn’t you say once that you and Lucy’s mom were in some sort of secret society together at UPenn?”
Vivian smiles. “We were. Good memory. It was called Tabard. Though I’m sure any college secret society is child’s play compared to the Knox.”
“You never know,” Rachel says with a grin. She clearly wants to know more, but Vivian would rather focus on the task at hand.
Even after all these years, Vivian still finds it difficult to talk about anything Kat-related; she’s never gotten over her best friend’s untimely death. It doesn’t take Freud to realize that this may be part of the reason she’s held her goddaughter at arm’s length. Kat died, and then shortly thereafter Vivian’s father died, too. It was a lot of loss all at once.
“Anyway, I’m hoping that somewhere in here,” Vivian says to Rachel, gesturing around them, “is evidence that proves myfamily lineage to the Knox—to William Knox himself. According to my grandmother, there’s a book in the family that somehow reveals, or proves, the truth about my family. How a book can do that, I don’t know.”
“And remind me why you need to prove this?”
Vivian feels her face grow warm. “My mother’s health care needs have grown…complex.” She’s reluctant to say more. Her friend can read between the lines; Vivian is clearly putting her mom’s house on the market for a reason.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I…I know that nursing home care can be expensive. Well, I don’t know personally, but I’ve heard.”
“Thank you.” She has yet to reveal her own financial woes to Rachel. It’s silly; Rachel will realize soon enough, once the second store officially closes. It’s already shuttered for the time being; she has let go of the store manager. But Vivian has her pride. Or maybe it’s more a state of denial. “Anyway, this could all be a wild-goose chase, but my grandmother used to insinuate that there was some Knox fortune we might be entitled to—so I guess that means the long-lost book is the key to finding it.”
Rachel’s eyes light up; Vivian knew she’d be on board once she heard this detail. Rachel can’t get enough of movies and novels about treasure hunting.
“I’m assuming you can’t ask your mom about the book, or any details she might know. And your grandmother has passed, right?”
Vivian nods. “Unfortunately, my mom is…” She doesn’t need to finish; Rachel nods sympathetically. “Although she does remember her La Mer face cream,” Vivian ruefully adds.
Rachel laughs, and Crimson grins, as if she’s in on the joke. Rachel gazes adoringly at her daughter. Christ. When Rachelglances back up, Vivian does her best to display a matching expression of adoration at Crimson. It seems to work.
It’s times like these that Vivian misses her friendship with Xavier. They would likely have a little private chuckle at Rachel’s expense. It wasn’t so long ago that Rachel had sworn off having kids—or a husband, for that matter.
It feels like both of Vivian’s friends have moved on without her, like their time together was just a stop on a train they’ve now reboarded. Vivian has always loved her station in life—her antiques store, her life in Beacon Hill—but recent events have made her wonder if there’s a train she’s supposed to be boarding, too. But what exactly does that mean? Finding a life partner? Vivian hasn’t written off getting married—her mother might have been surprised to learn—but she’s never pined for it, either. She’s had a string of relationships, some longer and more serious than others, and the majority of which have been long-distance—New York, London, Singapore—which Rachel likes to cheekily point out is one way to predetermine their fates. But the fact is, Vivian’s never been in love. Not really—or at least, not yet. Thoughts of Peter create a warmth inside her that she’s not used to feeling.
“How many generations back does this house go?” Rachel now asks, pointing to the floor.
“Let me think. Well, I know my grandmother grew up in this house….Hergrandmother, the illegitimate child, was sent to Rhode Island, I believe, to be raised by a servant. So I guess my grandmother’s mother—my great-grandmother—must have returned to Boston to live here. She married a banker.” Vivian shudders thinking about how her distant relatives would have viewed her mother’s recent house renovation.
Rachel is furiously scribbling notes. “Where in Rhode Island was the child sent to?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure. That’s literally the extent of what I know.”
“I won’t ask now, but I’ll need first and last names, middle names, birth dates, anything you know about your family.”
Vivian laughs. “There’s a family tree I constructed when I was in sixth grade in one of those other boxes in the basement.”
Rachel nods. “Good. We’ll look for it. Meanwhile, anything that jogs your memory—now or later—let me know. As a genealogist, I’ve found the slightest facts can go a long way. Have you done a DNA test through something like Ancestry.com?”
“I did one a few years back…I just looked at it yesterday.”
“Any surprise relatives? Any leads we can follow?”
“I’ll send you the results, but I don’t think so…. It seems like a dead end; I only saw relatives on my dad’s side. As for my mom’s side, don’t forget I’m the only child of an only child of an only child…. A long line of women, actually. My mom used to say we had the one-woman curse in our blood. Also, every woman in my family apparently gives birth at a late age, like in their forties.” Vivian feels a warmth come over her face. Why would she have volunteered this last piece of information? Is Peter already scrambling her brain?
