Nicolai's Daughters Read Online Free PDF Page A

others to clean up.”
    â€œAlexia, you’re not being fair.”
    â€œHe never told me anything important until it was too late.” She felt tears welling up. No way was she going to cry. No damn way. She swallowed hard, blinked and focused on what Stuart had placed on his desk.
    She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from her chest. They’d cleared out her mother’s things years ago, and yet, here were her ribbons holding the lid of this shoebox in place. Her mother had tied up her hair with these ribbons while she vacuumed the house or weeded the garden. Why had her father used them to tie this box? He could be so clueless sometimes. They were likely hanging around when he needed them so he used them. Never once thinking that maybe she’d like to have them.
    Alexia reached out to touch the ribbons, could almost hear her mother’s voice again. “We’ll clean up, then go to the park.”
    Sara was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Alexia sat on the closed toilet lid beside the counter, her legs tucked underneath her. “I can help,” she said, handing Sara a blue ribbon. She watched her mother loop it around her long, thick hair.
    Something cool stroked Alexia’s forearm. She looked down at Stuart’s hand, at the trail of liver spots.
    â€œYou are sisters. This box may make a difference to her. It might help you too.”
    She turned and walked out of his office, her heels ringing on the hardwood floors. No. No. No. Stuart’s pleas dropped behind her. I took care of him my whole life, she fumed as she punched the elevator buttons. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. He never trusted me enough to tell me what was going on. Anytime I asked, everything was always great. It wasn’t great. He was sick. He had a child with another woman.
    Liar.
    A few weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon, Stuart showed up at her apartment door, his tie loosened, his jacket slung over his arm. He left his briefcase and a large plastic bag at the front door and followed her into the living room. Alexia ignored the bag. He was still trying to pawn off that box, she thought.
    He sat heavily on the couch. She sat stiffly on the loveseat, her hands tucked under her legs.
    â€œI’ve known you your whole life, Alexia,” he said. “I know how hard this is.”
    â€œI don’t want to have anything to do with that box, Stuart.”
    She turned her back to him to face Coal Harbour and the flickering lights on the north shore. Why couldn’t Stuart have protected her from all this? After all, he’d been a second father to her. And if he couldn’t do that, why hadn’t he advised her father to tell her about this long ago? This is what lawyers do. At the very least, he should have advised his client to take his stupid secret to the grave.
    â€œAlexia, you’re the executor of his estate. Think about your professional responsibilities.”
    â€œAnd what if I don’t want to?”
    â€œHe trusted you.”
    She shrugged.
    Minutes passed and she didn’t move. Finally, she heard the door click closed behind him. Go, she thought. Dad did when things got tough. You might as well too.
    Her windows vibrated at the bang of the Stanley Park cannon just as they did every night at nine o’clock. She went to the bathroom and saw the large plastic bag by the front door, saw the shape of the shoebox inside. Forget it, she said out loud. I’m not getting involved. This is not my problem.
    She ignored it that night and every night for a week, then two. Each time she kicked it on her way out the door she was reminded of what her father expected. Sometimes she knelt and touched the ribbons and thought about her mother. Finally, she loosened a ribbon from the box, wrapped it around her own long hair and looked at herself in the mirror. She expected to see her mother. Instead, her father’s eyes stared back at