“Daddy talks too much.” She turned her smile on me. “I’m Laurel, Cedric’s daughter.”
“Melanie,” I said, blinking rapidly. I felt overwhelmed already, my heart racing.
He had a daughter.
Which meant a wife, and a family, and a normal life. I didn’t know what I expected, but not this. I pictured my uncle as a monstrous hermit living in comfort, but devoid of any human emotions. He was the beast I wanted to hunt and flay alive, but this girl, this pretty girl completely shifted my perspective.
“Nice to meet you,” Laurel said, gesturing. “Come on in. Daddy’s in his study. He loves that stupid room.” She led us into a light, airy, and modern home, with simple paintings on the walls, tasteful decorations, and several family photos.
I gaped at everything. It was so nice and warm and inviting, and I felt lost, suddenly confused and unsure of my mission.
I came into this convinced that I was right, and now?
I didn’t know.
Nervosa sensed my discomfort. He drifted closer, and his fingers touched my wrist. I pulled back in surprise, and he smiled slightly, as if encouraging me to speak.
“Uh, Laurel,” I said, stammering. “How long have you lived here? It’s really nice.”
“Oh, forever. Daddy loves the bay area. He complains about prices and the tech kids all the time, but I think he loves that. I mean, he invests on all their startups, so what’s he got to be so sour about?” Laurel laughed, a kind and disarming sound, and I wanted to melt into the floor.
She took us to a big wooden door, knocked, and poked her head inside. “They’re here,” she said, and she pulled back out. “Okay, I’m done playing secretary for the day. Nice meeting you, Melanie and Alex.” She waved and slipped past.
Nervosa put a hand on my arm. “Ready?” he whispered.
I nodded, looking into the office.
My uncle sat behind a glass and wood desk in front of a bank of windows overlooking the water. Sunlight reflected off the waves, and a boat motored in the distance. The decor was simple, mostly old baseball memorabilia, with some vinyl records and music merch mixed in. My uncle stood and gestured toward Nervosa, a welcoming smile on his lips.
“Alex,” he said, “it’s good to see you again.”
Alex—or Nervosa—drifted forward, but I kept rooted near the door, not sure if I wanted to run away.
Uncle Cedric looked normal. His brown hair was going gray, but he seemed like an otherwise healthy and normal man in his sixties. His eyes were the same color as mine, and he had my nose, though his features were more severe, and he was taller than Mom. He looked like the kind of guy that exercised regularly and indulged in very few vices.
“Hello, Cedric. Thank you for taking my meeting.” Nervosa shook my uncle’s hand and gestured back toward me. “I wanted to introduce you to someone.”
“You did?” Uncle Cedric’s eyebrows raised as he looked at me. No recognition flashed in his eyes, and I realized he didn’t know a thing about me, and likely had never seen a picture. My parents kept me out of the world as much as possible, and my uncle wouldn’t be an exception. I was a stranger to him, even if we were blood kin, and I stepped forward, heart racing, a thousand questions ripping through my hand.
Nervosa nodded encouragingly. I took a deep breath.
“Hello, Uncle Cedric. My name’s Melanie.”
He looked confused. He laughed, uncomfortable, and glanced at Nervosa, and back at me. “Uncle? I’m sorry, I’m at a loss here.”
“I’m Melanie Orchard. I’m Constance’s daughter.”
Recognition bloomed in his face. He looked excited at first, but quickly confusion set in. He sank down into his chair and I walked forward, hands shaking, sweat breaking out along my back.
Nervosa moved aside, leaning against a low table in front of the windows as I sat in a chair across from the man I’d thought about all the time since finding my mother’s old diary.
“You’re Melanie,” he said quietly. “You’re, what, nineteen now?”
“That’s right. Nineteen. I’m studying at Stanford.”
“Really? That’s great, so great. I’m surprised you’re not at Blackwoods.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
“Melanie.” He said my name like he was trying to get his mouth around it. “How’s your mother doing? I haven’t spoken to her in years.”
“I know. She’s okay.”
“Just okay? The Connie I remember was always more than okay.” He smiled, as if remembering an old joke. “Your mother always had spirit.”
“I wondered about that. Why don’t the two of you speak?”
He pursed his lips and leaned back. “She lives in Colorado and I live out here. It’s not easy to remain close when there’s a big distance between you.”
“You could call every once in a while.”
“She married an—” He stopped himself from saying the word and glanced at Nervosa. “Well, she married someone like him.”