She inhaled, squared her shoulders and marched into the lawyer’s office, giving the receptionist her name and taking a seat in the chair closest to the front desk. She was surprised to see that there were other young women also waiting, and one glanced up at her before quickly looking back down to her magazine.
When Georgia had received the letter, stating that her presence was required to collect something left to her family’s estate, she’d been somewhat caught off-guard. But as the last remaining family member, she’d decided that it would be foolishnot to go, especially when her assistant had assured her that the law firm was legitimate.
What she hadn’t been expecting was for her name to be called along with five others soon after she’d arrived, and for them all to be ushered into a conference room together. Her heart began to race as she glanced around at the other young women and she shifted uncomfortably.They weren’t all about to be told they were related, were they?
Georgia took a sip of water from the glass on the table to soothe her suddenly dry throat as she sat, glancing around the modern office as a well-dressed woman stood and introduced herself as Mia Jones. It wasn’t that she was uninterested in what the woman standing before her was saying; she simply needed to be elsewhere, and when her phone vibrated in her bag, she knew there was no way she’d be able to stay for more than fifteen minutes. Georgia picked up the bag and placed it on her lap, hoping she might be able to disguise the sound. But even with her arms pressed onto her bag, it was impossible not to hear the vibrations.
Would it be rude to ask to come back another time?
Georgia started to tap her foot as the man who’d introduced himself as the lawyer cleared his throat and began to speak. She recognised his name as the lawyer who’d sent her the letter and, as distracted as she was, she was also very curious about why she’d been summoned. She looked around at the other women there, still not sure what the connection was. There was the pretty brunette with freckles across her nose who’d glanced at her in the waiting area, another brunette and a very attractive blonde, who had both been quick to smile at her across the table when they’d sat down. One of the other women had dark blonde hair and a big smile, emphasised by a shock of bright red lipstick; and then there was another woman, with hair almost asdark as Georgia’s, who kept her head down, her fingers worrying the edge of the table.
It wasn’t until she looked away from the last woman, as Mia began to place little wooden boxes that were perhaps twice the size of a ring box on the table in front of them, that Georgia had an inkling as to why she was there. Her eyes were drawn to a name that was familiar to her, a name she hadn’t seen in years, tied to a piece of string, which was in turn attached to one of the small boxes.Cara Montano. Was that why she was here, to receive the tiny box? She glanced at the other women, wondering if they’d recognised the name, too, but no one else appeared to have seen it, or if they had, it didn’t seem to mean anything to them.
Georgia sat a little straighter as the woman named Mia, the woman clearly responsible for summoning them all, continued to place the small boxes out on the table, lining them all up in a row as she spoke.
‘As you’ve just heard, my aunt’s name was Hope Berenson, and for many years she ran a private home here in London called Hope’s House, for unmarried mothers and their babies. She was very well known for her discretion, as well as her kindness, despite the times.’
Hope’s House?Georgia had no idea what that had to do with her, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the little box, from the name of her grandmother—Cara Montano—staring back at her as plain as day. Her spine stiffened and she involuntarily dug her fingernails into her palms. If she’d known this was about her grandmother, she may not have come at all.
After all these years of wishing she’d come for me, of wishing she wanted me, her name still has a way of hurting me.
She continued to ignore the vibrations from her phone as she listened to Mia, who was telling them about how she’d found the little boxes beneath the floorboards of her aunt’s house, andher decision to reunite them with the descendants of the women they’d been intended for. It was fascinating, and if it had been another day, she would have loved to have heard more about it.
Georgia dragged her eyes from the little handwritten label and looked up at the lawyer as he spoke again.
‘When Mia found these, she brought them straight to me, and we went through all the old records in her aunt’s office. Hope’s documentation was meticulous, and although those records should have stayed private, in this case we chose to search for the names on the boxes, to see if we couldn’t reunite them with their rightful owners. I felt an obligation to do what I could.’
‘Did you open any of them?’ asked one of the women seated across from Georgia.
‘No.’ Mia’s voice lowered, much softer now than when she’d spoken before. ‘That’s why I asked you all to be here today, so you could each choose whether to open them or not.’ Her eyes filled with tears, and Georgia watched as she quickly brushed them away. ‘To keep them hidden all these years, they must have held such importance to my aunt, but what I don’t understand is why she never reunited the boxes with their intended during her lifetime. I felt it was my duty to at least try, and now it’s up to each one of you whether they remain sealed or not.’
‘What we don’t know,’ the lawyer said, planting his hands on the table as he slowly rose from his chair, ‘is whether there were other boxes that were given out over the years. Either Hope chose not to give these seven out for some reason, or they weren’t claimed.’
‘Or she decided, again for reasons of her own, that they were better kept hidden,’ Mia finished for him. ‘In which case, I may have uncovered something that was supposed to stay buried.’
The lawyer cleared his throat as Georgia’s phone started to buzz again. She sighed and finally reached for it, seeing thatit was Sam, her business partner.Of course, it was Sam. She was only going to keep calling if Georgia didn’t answer—it was shaping up to be one of the most exciting days of both their careers, which was the reason she hadn’t intended on coming to the meeting at all—which in turn meant she needed to go. Georgia listened to the conversation, waiting for a break so she could excuse herself.
‘Yes,’ the lawyer said. ‘But whatever the reason, my duty is to pass them on to their rightful owners, or in this case, to the estates of their rightful owners.’
‘And you have no idea what’s inside any of them?’ another woman asked from across the room.
‘No, we don’t,’ Mia replied.
Georgia stood then, taking her chance and slipping her bag over her shoulder as she cleared her throat. No matter how fascinating this was, she had to go.
‘Well, as interesting as all this sounds, I have to get back to work,’ she said, hoping she didn’t sound as rude as she felt. But when she looked at the other women seated, she realised that was exactly how she came across. ‘If you could pass me the box labelled Cara Montano, I’ll be on my way. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.’
‘Thank you for coming,’ the lawyer said, nodding to her. ‘If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me. We will be more than happy to discuss the matter with you at a later date.’
Georgia nodded, signing the piece of paper that Mia nudged towards her and rummaging in her bag for her wallet so she could show her identification. Her cheeks heated a little as she felt everyone’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up from the task at hand.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured to Mia, touching her hand to the other woman’s arm. ‘I can see how much this all means to you. I’m only sorry I can’t stay longer.’
Mia gave her a small smile before passing her the box, and Georgia took it and dropped it into her bag, before crossing the room and pushing open the door as she reached for her phone.
Sam answered in a tone as clipped as Georgia’s heels on the tiled floor.
‘G, where have you been? I need you! The investor?—’
