It wasn’t long before Addison found herself back in the library, the air thick with the smell of the cigarettes she had smoked that morning. The decanter was still on the table, the level of single-malt more than enough to take her to oblivion again, but she had lost the desire to drink it.

She ran her fingers through her hair as she wondered if anything would ever hold her interest again. Neatly folded newspapers were stacked on her desk in the study, and her laptop was at the ready, connecting her to all that used to be important, but her definition of importance had somehow changed. Kindness was important. Compassion was important. Standing by those you love was important and speaking the words was important, but her epiphany had come too late, and as that thought crossed her mind, the veins in her temples began to bulge.

Addison reached for the decanter, yet she didn’t thirst for its contents. She wanted to hear the crystal shatter against the wall. She wanted to rip the books from the shelves, tearing their pages and their spines until only tatters remained, and those filled with her family’s history, the Bibles emblazoned with the name she was once proud to call her own, Addison wanted to burn. She wanted their pages turned to char, sending her past up the flue in bits and pieces of smoke and ash, but as she brought back her arm with crystal in hand, the distant sound of a door slamming caught her attention.

Fiona was there for only one reason, and it had nothing to do with anything upstairs. It had been made very clear to her that her duties were to cook and provide drink when needed, so when Addison heard the door, she launched herself off the sofa. Propelled by her rage, she made it through two rooms in a flash, but when she reached the foyer, it was as if she had hit an invisible wall, her stop so abrupt she stumbled back a step. The air rushed from her lungs, carrying with it only one word. “Joanna.”

“Hello, Addison.”

Chapter Forty-Four

The house was so silent that each could hear the other breathe, the mantle clock in the drawing room adding to the cadence as it ticked and tocked its way to the next minute.

If Fran and Evelyn hadn’t warned her, Joanna wouldn’t have been able to hold back her shock at Addison’s appearance. She was pale and thin, her cheekbones now casting shadows almost to her jawline, and the icy brilliance of her eyes had melted into pools of pale blue filled with anguish.