Page 68 of Threaded Lies

Rowan

I needed to play music today as much as the women here at the Sanctuary needed to hear it.

Guilt hits me for the inconsiderate thought. No one has physically harmed me. I’m not hiding out from an abusive significant other. I’m not trying to figure out how to protect my children.

I definitely didn’t need this more than they did—I stand corrected. But I did need it to ground me. To remind me that when all is said and done, regardless of the outcome, I’ll always be Eleanor Rothschild’s granddaughter and that’s a powerful thing.

“Why do you look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?” Mei-Ling, the center’s director, asks from the doorway.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.” I look up from where I’m putting my cello in my case. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. You know as much as the next person that we don’t judge anyone for their problems here.”

I smile softly at her. “Thanks, it’s just been … a struggle as of late. But not any rougher than what you’ve been dealing with. Any news on the landlord and the eviction?”

“Not yet. I’ve been told it’s imminent, but I just don’t know when. A part of me is hoping it was just rumblings like there’s been in the past, but that’s wishful thinking. We’re looking at other places to move to. I just hope we find one in time because there’s no way I can abandon these families.” Compassion oozes out of her every pore, and I struggle with what to say.

“Do you know what the potential buyers want to do with the space?”

“Rumors are it’s a revitalization project, but I have a feeling there’s more to it than that.”

“I’ve had so much going on in my personal life, I haven’t been helping you as much as I said I would. I’ll do better. I promise.”

“It’s not your burden,” she says honestly. “Again, like I tell the women here, no need to apologize.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one with the means and the connections to try and help.”

The damn painting and Holden’s voice flash through my head. Do with it what you wish.

Hmm.

“We’ll figure it out,” Mei-Ling continues. “One way or another. I won’t let these women down.”

She’s pulled away and as I finish packing my things, I’m more than preoccupied with how I could leverage the painting. A painting that Holden overpaid for to show my brother up, so I’m under no false pretenses that it’s really worth $3 million.

But money is money when it comes to this, and any little bit will help.

“Simon,” I say long before I reach my favorite security guard.

He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me side-eye. “Girl, don’t be thinking you’re going to come in here and cozy all up to me after I find out you’re engaged. And here I thought I was the love of your life.”

“I couldn’t wait anymore. I mean, your wife is just holding on to you too tight. She doesn’t seem to want to let you go.”

“Can you blame her?” He holds his arms out, his grin wide and his large chest jumping up and down with his laughter. “I am the catchiest of all catches.”

“You most definitely are.” I chuckle loudly, not realizing how much I needed this lightheartedness right now. When Simon opens the door to the Sanctuary to follow me outside, I say what I always say. “I’m good. No need to walk me out to my car.”

“I know you know you’re good, but after the last two weeks, I’ll be walking you out myself.”

“Last two weeks?” I glance over to him, and the look he gives me makes me feel like an idiot.

“There have been a few shootings. Cops ain’t sure if it’s drugs or gangs or just desperate people trying to take what’s not theirs to survive, but three people have died.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yep. One in a parking lot walking to their car, so, Miss Rothschild, I’ll be walking you to yours.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”