“Okay, wehaveto change the subject,” I finally said. “I’m just thinking about rose petals now.”
He started laughing, and I started laughing, and we curled up on the floor, laughing hysterically.
“Okay, but what happened?” he said, once we’d recovered. “If they were in love, why didn’t they stay together?”
“What do you mean what happened? It didn’t work out.” I thought back to the letters.Don’t do anything crazy.“I’m pretty sure she dumped him.”
He looked stunned. “Shedumpedhim?”
“Hey.” His surprise struck me as slightly insulting. “Yeah, she turned him down. He begged her to come back.”
He scowled. “I don’t believe it.”
I scowled back. “Read the last letters, then.”
He did, his expression fading to a confused frown. “Why didn’t she come back?”
“I don’t know, she probably realized he’d also been seeing some other girl for several years and 1950s morality got to her.”
“Why was he even dating my grandmother, though? If he was so in love with yours?”
“I mean.” I shrugged. I’d done my research on Helen Barbanel(née Danziger, of Danziger Media). In the wedding photo I’d found online in theNew York Timesarchive, she’d looked rich and beautiful, and the article had agreed, as had all the subsequent mentions of her I’d been able to dredge up. “My grandmother was an orphan girl from Germany. Yours was super wealthy and from high society. Checks out.”
“No. It doesn’t.” He frowned again. “Doesn’t this bother you? They were in love, and they didn’t stay together.”
Not really. At least, it didn’t surprise me, not the way it seemed to surprise him. I tilted my head. “Why, Noah. Are you a romantic?”
His face closed. “You think I’m being stupid.”
“No. I think it’s... nice.”
“Nice.” He laughed scornfully and pushed his hand through his hair. “Cool.”
I hadn’t been usingniceas a pejorative. I meant it. “Yeah. Idothink it’s nice. I don’t think it’srealisticto believe people stay together simply because they love each other, but I think—well, I wish I could believe it. I think it’s really nice.”
Our eyes held.Be bold,I could almost hear Niko saying.Get flung,Stella had said. A shiver went down my back.History repeats itself.
A voice sounded down the hall. “Hello? Is anyone home?”
Noah froze. “Oh, shit.”
“Who is that?”
“My mom.” He started shoving the scrapbooks back.
“I thought you said no one would care if we were here,” I hissed.
“I exaggerated. Come on.”
We slipped out of the study and down the hall. If this boy snuck me out the back like a servant, I was going to—
He led me into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom.”
Oh no. I would have vastly preferred to be treated like a servant.
A woman in sleek, chic clothing looked up from where she unpacked grocery bags. Surprise crossed her face. “I didn’t realize you were home, honey.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “This is, uh, Abigail.”
