There it was, ever so faintly. A fragrance that reminded her of childish giggles, of summer sunshine, of the warmth of a woman’s embrace. Her mother’s embrace.
Tamsyn lowered the envelope, slid a nail under the flap and began to read.
Twenty-Three
She cried many tears over her mother’s words, words threaded with guilt that she’d failed to protect her children from her own weakness. She’d been running away from The Masters—from her marriage and the failures she’d struggled to live with—to Lorenzo, who waited for her at the airport with tickets for all of them to travel to New Zealand, when she’d crashed her car.
John, her husband, had arrived, distraught to find his children injured and furiously angry to find his wife under the influence of alcohol and sobbing on the side of the road. He’d used the weight of the Masters name to see the police suppress their evidence against her, and eventually drop all charges, on her promise that she’d leave, without her children, and never return. Plus, he’d arranged to pay her a stipend to ensure she stayed away, out of all their lives forever.
Ellen had battled with her guilt, and her drinking, for years after that, but had continued to accept the money from John Masters month after month, year after year. Lorenzo hadn’t wanted Masters money to touch the life they’d rebuilt for themselves in New Zealand, so she’d saved it in a separate account, eventually using it to buy some land, which was being held in trust for Ethan and Tamsyn. While her biggest regret in life had been not fighting harder to maintain a relationship with her children, she’d at least ensured she had something to give them, something definite and valuable to remember her by.
She closed the last letter with the name of the legal firm in Auckland that oversaw her and Ethan’s inheritance.
Tamsyn struggled to her feet, easing the stiffness out of her muscles as she walked toward Lorenzo, who rose to greet her.
“We don’t need the land, Lorenzo,” she said after explaining what Ellen had done. “It should be yours. We already have far more than we need at home, you especially should know that.”
“I do know that. I worked for your family for many years and I know what your family land means to you all. This is why you should know what this meant to Ellen to give you something that is purely yours, from her. You and your brother may do with it whatever you want, but remember, it was her only way of leaving you something of her. Think on it, and make your decision once you have talked to your brother, yes?”
Tamsyn nodded. “Okay.”
Back at the house, after everyone had gone, she gathered her things together for her flight away from here. Away from the pain, away from the memories, both good and bad. Finn waited at the door as she approached, a wrapped rectangle in his hands. She’d done her level best to avoid being alone with him since Ellen’s death and with her spending so much time with Alexis, it hadn’t been difficult. Finn, too, had been out of the house a lot—helping to coordinate the funeral as well as being a constant support for Lorenzo. Tamsyn had told herself she was relieved he hadn’t had the opportunity to wear down her shaky resolve to leave, but right now she felt so raw it was as if she was bleeding inside.
“Before you go, I’d like you to have this,” he said, handing her the parcel.
She looked at the bright Christmas wrappings and shook her head. “No, Finn. Please. Not a Christmas gift. We’re not…I can’t…”
“It’s yours, you have to take it.”