Read Online The Pieces We Keep by Kristina McMorris - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristina McMorris
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perked. She’d always thought of Boston as an intriguing city, rich in history and culture and academics. Great benefits for Jack in the years to come. “I’ll owe you one.”
“More like one million. But yes. You will.”
As Tess departed, Audra recalled her earlier mission. She dug into her pocket and retrieved the therapist’s card.
Talk—Trust—Heal
She scanned the text once more, and ripped the card in half.
8
W hen it came to the task at hand, Vivian was on her own. Lying in bed, down pillow scrunched against the white wrought-iron frame, she skirted thoughts of the consequences; they would only apply if she was caught.
The designation off-limits applied to many a thing in the James household: the pantry and cookie jar between mealtimes, a china closet full of impractical gifts from dignitaries, any mention of her mother’s four o’clock flow of gin and tonic. And the vertical file cabinet downstairs in the study.
Her parents’ slumber, however, would soon be deep, allowing her to creep through the house undetected. The waitstaff’s nightly absence would also ease her efforts. Over the past three days she had snagged every discreet chance to search for the key by daylight. Under the cloak of darkness, she hoped for a better result.
The most confidential files would be stored at the embassy. Nonetheless, those kept at home carried enough importance to merit a lock. A memo inside, for instance, might confirm unflagging neutrality by Prime Minister Chamberlain. There could be a proposition for a new non-aggression pact between the United Kingdom and Germany. True, Hitler had reneged on the previous one, breaking the Munich Agreement by seizing all of Czechoslovakia. But the majority of British leaders might still desire peace, just as much as Isaak did. Proof of this could help allay his fears.
Vivian centered on the prospect as she stared at the ceiling, its crown molding trimmed in gold. Lace curtains sieved moonlight across her small but tidy room. With every blink, her eyelids gained another gram of weight. She pinched her leg beneath the sheets. She needed to stay alert. But with fatigue nibbling at her senses, her vision went gray at the edges....
A chiming melody roused her. It floated up the staircase from the grandfather clock in the parlor, marking the hour of one. She had planned to wait until two, yet if she didn’t act now another slow blink might tug her into a dream and keep her captive until dawn.
She shook off the dust of exhaustion and planted her feet on the cool rug. In her long cotton nightdress, she tiptoed down the stairs. Beams of light from outside splashed against the arched entry window. Vivian froze, imagining a policeman armed with a flashlight. Instead a vehicle rumbled away, taking its bright headlights along.
Quiet returned to their street lined with virtually matching houses. They stood narrow and three storied, like soldiers at attention. The uniformity of the area was well suited, as many of the residents were employed at the diplomatic hub of Grosvenor Square. When the U.S. embassy moved there a year ago, Vivian had been grateful her family didn’t relocate to an apartment in the pillared building. She had barely unpacked from their initial move.
Now she realized the benefits of the alternative. Discarded documents and whispered secrets would have lurked in every corner.
At the closed door of the den, she gripped the ornate knob. She twisted it to the right with painstaking care and glanced cautiously over her shoulder. She pushed the door open, and her heart leapt to her throat.
“Vivian.” Her father sat at his desk, working by lamplight. “What are you doing up?”
“I—couldn’t sleep.”
The last two years had thinned and silvered his hair to the point of translucence. A set of bags puffed beneath his eyes.
“Is there something you need?” he asked.
Insomnia didn’t explain why she had intruded into his study.
She feigned a yawn, stalling,
“More like one million. But yes. You will.”
As Tess departed, Audra recalled her earlier mission. She dug into her pocket and retrieved the therapist’s card.
Talk—Trust—Heal
She scanned the text once more, and ripped the card in half.
8
W hen it came to the task at hand, Vivian was on her own. Lying in bed, down pillow scrunched against the white wrought-iron frame, she skirted thoughts of the consequences; they would only apply if she was caught.
The designation off-limits applied to many a thing in the James household: the pantry and cookie jar between mealtimes, a china closet full of impractical gifts from dignitaries, any mention of her mother’s four o’clock flow of gin and tonic. And the vertical file cabinet downstairs in the study.
Her parents’ slumber, however, would soon be deep, allowing her to creep through the house undetected. The waitstaff’s nightly absence would also ease her efforts. Over the past three days she had snagged every discreet chance to search for the key by daylight. Under the cloak of darkness, she hoped for a better result.
The most confidential files would be stored at the embassy. Nonetheless, those kept at home carried enough importance to merit a lock. A memo inside, for instance, might confirm unflagging neutrality by Prime Minister Chamberlain. There could be a proposition for a new non-aggression pact between the United Kingdom and Germany. True, Hitler had reneged on the previous one, breaking the Munich Agreement by seizing all of Czechoslovakia. But the majority of British leaders might still desire peace, just as much as Isaak did. Proof of this could help allay his fears.
Vivian centered on the prospect as she stared at the ceiling, its crown molding trimmed in gold. Lace curtains sieved moonlight across her small but tidy room. With every blink, her eyelids gained another gram of weight. She pinched her leg beneath the sheets. She needed to stay alert. But with fatigue nibbling at her senses, her vision went gray at the edges....
A chiming melody roused her. It floated up the staircase from the grandfather clock in the parlor, marking the hour of one. She had planned to wait until two, yet if she didn’t act now another slow blink might tug her into a dream and keep her captive until dawn.
She shook off the dust of exhaustion and planted her feet on the cool rug. In her long cotton nightdress, she tiptoed down the stairs. Beams of light from outside splashed against the arched entry window. Vivian froze, imagining a policeman armed with a flashlight. Instead a vehicle rumbled away, taking its bright headlights along.
Quiet returned to their street lined with virtually matching houses. They stood narrow and three storied, like soldiers at attention. The uniformity of the area was well suited, as many of the residents were employed at the diplomatic hub of Grosvenor Square. When the U.S. embassy moved there a year ago, Vivian had been grateful her family didn’t relocate to an apartment in the pillared building. She had barely unpacked from their initial move.
Now she realized the benefits of the alternative. Discarded documents and whispered secrets would have lurked in every corner.
At the closed door of the den, she gripped the ornate knob. She twisted it to the right with painstaking care and glanced cautiously over her shoulder. She pushed the door open, and her heart leapt to her throat.
“Vivian.” Her father sat at his desk, working by lamplight. “What are you doing up?”
“I—couldn’t sleep.”
The last two years had thinned and silvered his hair to the point of translucence. A set of bags puffed beneath his eyes.
“Is there something you need?” he asked.
Insomnia didn’t explain why she had intruded into his study.
She feigned a yawn, stalling,
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