Chapter 1
Georgia
Georgia checked the address she had scribbled down and confirmed that she was in the right place. She looked up at the big iron gate, uncertainty gripping her. Should she really be here? She only gave into doubt for a second. Having come this far, she pushed forward, pressing the intercom to reach the house. She waited, hearing a strange crackling sound right before someone answered.
“Yes?”
“Um, it’s Georgia.”
She prayed that would be enough to gain entrance. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the massive gate began moving. Feeling relieved, she stepped forward, walking all the way up the long driveway to the mansion waiting at the end. It almost seemed to shine in the sun, as if it had been made of pure gold.
Or perhaps that’s just what happens when rich people settle down somewhere? she mused, feeling a smile linger on her lips.
Standing in front of the large white door, she was about to knock when it swung open, revealing an older woman in the doorway. She towered over Georgia, a careful smile lingering on her lips. But Georgia couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. Despite looking exhausted, her posture and clothes screamed elegance.
“Georgia?” she asked.
“That’s me, Mrs. Hendricks.”
“Oh, call me Martha,” she said, holding out her hand.
Georgia was a bit surprised, but she shook it regardless.
“I have been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Your parents are very proud.”
Could they be anything but, considering she was their only child? she wondered.
“Come in,” Martha said.
Georgia walked inside, observing the grand entrance with awe. She took in the sweeping staircase leading to the second floor and the beautiful chandelier hanging in the middle. As she slowly turned to Martha, she noticed the way the woman nervously smoothed her hands down her form-fitting dress.
Why is she so nervous?
“Are you thirsty? Hungry?” Martha inquired.
“Um, sure,” Georgia said. “Some water would be nice.”
“It’s hot, isn’t it?” Martha remarked, leading the way to the kitchen.
Georgia followed, hearing their footsteps echo through the large entrance hall before they stepped into an equally enormous kitchen. She could barely take it all in, everything polished to a beautiful shine. She knew it had to have cost a fortune. Her own kitchen could fit in here ten times over.
When she heard Martha open the fridge did she turn around.
“Here you go,” Martha said, holding out a bottle of water.
Georgia took a seat by the kitchen island and opened the bottle, taking a sip while a tense silence settled over them. When she couldn’t handle the tension any longer, she rested her hand on the countertop and looked toward Martha, who still stood on the other side, fiddling with her dress.
“So,” Georgia began, “maybe you could explain a little about why you asked my parents to arrange this.”
“They haven’t told you?” Martha asked.
Georgia shook her head. “All they said was that you needed someone with extra time and a lot of patience.”
“What a nice way to describe it,” Martha murmured.
“They also mentioned that my experience with children with special needs might help, but if I remember correctly, you don’t have any small children.”
Martha smiled faintly, and a soft laugh escaped her, as if she wanted to find Georgia’s comment funny but lacked the strength.
“Special needs,” she mused aloud.
“Yes, but I’m not quite sure how that helps.”
“It helps because it means you do have patience.”
Georgia only felt more confused, as though she was missing half the story, but Martha’s hesitation only perplexed her further.
“Martha, what is it you need me for?”
She let out a long exhale. “You know my husband and I reconnected with your parents a few years back.”
Georgia nodded. “I remember. You became friends when you were all in high school but drifted apart after that.”
“Yes, our lives became very different, but luckily our little group managed to find its way back together.”
A warmth spread through Georgia’s chest as she thought about her parents’ friendship with Martha and her husband surviving so many years apart. She knew her parents treasured these people, even though she herself mostly knew them through stories.
“Well, your mother speaks very often about you,” Martha explained.
“Oh?”
“She is very proud of your work and of who you are as a person, and it got me thinking.”
“Thinking?”
“That I need those qualities in this house.”
Georgia felt like Martha was dragging out what she truly wanted to say.
“Martha, what exactly do you need me for?” she pressed.
“Gavin.”
“Your… son?”
“Yes, my son.”
“Isn’t he a year or two older than me?”
“He is indeed.”
“I don’t see how any of my experience can help,” Georgia said.
Martha let out a long exhale, her whole body seeming to deflate.
“Because I’m out of options.”
Martha looked devastated.
“Options?”
“I have tried so many things with him—coaxing him into therapy, trying to convince him to do physical rehabilitation, bringing in different caretakers. Nothing helps!” Martha exclaimed. “All he does is slowly break them down until they flee from this damn place.”
Georgia could hear the desperation in Martha’s voice, as if she herself wanted to flee the house.
“He never leaves his room, and whenever I try to speak to him, all I get is the cold shoulder. It’s like talking to a wall!”
Martha reached up and rubbed her forehead, her large diamond ring shining in the light.
“I can’t do it anymore. He is so… dark, and I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
Georgia felt deep sympathy for her. Working with children with special needs, she had seen exhausted parents before.
“What about Gavin’s father?”
“He…” Martha looked back at her. “He is barely home.”
Georgia understood what that was code for: running from something too hard to face.
Martha rested her hands against the kitchen island.
“I thought bringing him here was the right thing to do because, as the doctors said, he needed support to get better. I thought it would be simple. I thought we could help him be happy again. But nothing has worked. He doesn’t even want to try to get better,” she said.
Georgia kept listening, letting Martha get it all out, knowing she needed to. Once Martha had calmed down a little, Georgia crossed her arms and asked,
“What exactly happened to Gavin?”
Martha hesitated, intriguing Georgia even more.
“A work accident,” Martha revealed.
“Work accident?”
Was that code for something?
“He used to work as a detective.”
“Did someone attack him?”
“Not quite,” Martha whispered.
“What then?”
Martha looked down. “It was a raid.”
“A raid?”
Martha nodded. “Everything was planned out perfectly. No one could have seen it coming.”
“Seen what coming?”
“An explosion, a bomb,” she revealed.
“What?” Georgia drew back.
“He’s lucky to even be alive,” she said, her voice cracking.
Georgia nodded, only to notice the dark circles under Martha’s eyes again.
“I’m guessing he doesn’t see it that way?”
Martha shook her head. “No. He wishes the explosion had taken his life.”
Georgia leaned forward slightly. “Why?”
“Because he lost the most important thing in his life.”
“He lost a partner?”
Martha looked confused. “No. His job.”
Georgia felt stunned, unable to understand how a job could mean so much that Gavin now wished to die. Martha seemed to understand her reaction, her eyes softening.
“Georgia,” she began.
Georgia leaned forward, her interest piqued again.
“He can’t walk.”
