Free Eternal by Kristi Cook Page B

pristine, untouched. Bed,dresser, washstand, all exactly as I’d remembered it, all accented with rosebuds and cream-colored lace. The door on the far side of the room led to the attached bath; the door on my right opened directly into Aidan’s bedroom. I walked toward it hesitantly, heart pounding and palms dampening.
    The rational part of my mind warned me that, just like the rest of the house, the room was empty, that Aidan wasn’t here. If he were, I would have felt his presence by now, heard his voice in my head. And yet . . . I couldn’t help but hope, couldn’t help but imagine him there on the other side of door, waiting for me.
    I approached the arched door and paused, wiping my hands on my jeans. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves, but it was no use. When I reached for the cut-glass doorknob, my hand was trembling wildly. Twice, my fingers slipped off. On the third try, I managed to grasp the knob and turn it.
    Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and flipped on the light. Immediately, my breath caught in my throat. I had to reach for the doorjamb with both hands to steady myself as I took in the sight—and scent—that greeted me.

9 ~ Eternally Yours
    T here were orange blossoms everywhere—floating in a round crystal dish by the bed, in a vase on the table in the center of the room, scattered across the deep blue velvet duvet. The scent filled the air, sweet and citrusy and achingly familiar.
    Eternal love.
    I took a few steps forward, my legs feeling wooden and stiff. Slowly, I made my way toward the table—what Gran called a piecrust table—and the arrangement there. The vase was tall, nearly a foot high and rectangular in shape. The milky white blossoms were still attached to their stems, nestled between the sturdy green leaves. They were fresh, not yet wilted and still full of scent.They could only be hothouse flowers this time of year. But how did they get here?
    Mystified, I glanced over at the flower-strewn bed, noticing now that what I’d originally thought was a white throw pillow amidst the pile of blue and gold tasseled ones was actually paper—a sheaf of papers with an envelope on top. My heart was in my throat as I hurried over to the side of the bed and reached across the duvet, sliding the papers closer. My name was scrawled on the envelope in a familiar hand—Aidan’s. I ripped open the seal and took out the slip of heavy, cream-colored paper. Unfolding it with shaking hands, I began to read.
    Violet,
    I haven’t much time, so this will be regrettably brief. I’ve deeded this house and all of its contents to you, held in trust for you until your eighteenth birthday. Additionally, I’ve made provisions for taxes and upkeep. Trevors will have taken care of the paperwork, which you will find accompanying this letter. As soon as you receive this, contact my attorney here in New York—you’ll find his contact information with the paperwork—and he’ll go over the specifics with you regarding the housekeeping schedule, gardener, security, etc.
    I wish I had more time to tell you what you’ve meant to me, what joy and light and happiness you’ve brought into my life. Suffice it to say that I will never forget you, not as long as I walk this earth.
    Eternally yours,
    Aidan
    Tears burned behind my eyelids as I refolded the page and returned it to the envelope. I took a deep breath, digesting his words in silence, trying to make sense of it all. He’d deeded the house to me? The house and all of its contents? I glanced around the room in wonderment. What was I supposed to do with it all?
    I took the sheaf of papers and removed the clip, leafing through them without understanding much of what I was reading. It was paragraph after paragraph of legalese, occasionally interrupted by lines with signatures, Aidan’s and someone else’s—the attorney’s, I supposed.
    I swallowed hard, completely overwhelmed. The town house itself was worth millions—a plum piece of