Chapter 237

Ella

Logan and I walked out of the cemetery with a newfound resolve in our steps. Leonard’s ashes had been buried, right at the corner of the family plot—a plot which, in Logan’s words, had no more space for others. Leonard had been the last, and I think that was a good thing.

We drove in silence to Leonard’s mansion after that. Everything in the will had been left to Marina and Harry, although they only took the money and valuables and ran. But given their sudden departure and all that we had been through, the family lawyer had given us one day to enter the house and take whatever had been left, assuming Logan even wanted any of it.

After that, the house would likely be left empty until it eventually crumbled.

Logan had refused at first, but I had talked him into it. “What if you have some things there that used to belong to you?” I had asked. “What if you want to take some of your mother’s things?”

He had, of course, agreed at the mention of his mother. He had said that Leonard had thrown everything out that had belonged to her, and I believed him, but you never know these things. And I think, in a way, visiting the house one last time would have given him a bit of closure.

Logan tried acting as though his father’s sudden death didn’t bother him, but I could tell that it did. It was gnawing at him, slowly, from the inside. Despite everything, Leonard was still his father—and he had no one left now. More importantly, Leonard had been the last link to Logan’s mother; with him gone, his mother was truly gone, in a strange sort of way.

As the driver pulled into the sprawling pebbled driveway of the mansion, I glanced over at Logan. His jaw was set hard and his shoulders were tense.

“Are you ready?” I asked softly.

He exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yep. Let’s get this over with.”

Without another word, Logan quickly got out of the car. I watched him for a moment; I knew that this was all a show. But if he wanted to make a show out of it, then I wouldn’t stop him.

We made our way to the front door, stepping into the now-quiet mansion. The place that once felt overly opulent and gaudy now just felt dim and empty. I glanced around, noting how the expensive paintings and sculptures were already gone. There was no doubt in my mind that Marina and Harry had taken them during their frenzy after they had put the pillow over Leonard’s head.

“We’re just picking up a few things, right?” I reminded Logan, watching him as he surveyed the familiar surroundings.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice steady yet distant as he glanced around. “Most of this... I don’t care what happens to it, honestly. Marina and Harry may have taken the money, but these things, they’re just... reminders.”

Reminders. He had been using that word a lot lately. It was clear that he just wanted to forget, and I didn’t blame him.

We began our task, moving from room to room. Each space felt like a glimpse into the past; and it felt strange now, to be wandering freely without Leonard here to watch us. Or maybe he was watching, for all I knew. From somewhere. Maybe from behind the eyes of the overly large portrait of himself still hanging over the living room mantle.

“I guess they didn’t take everything,” I said with a slight scoff as I looked up at the sprawling painting, which depicted Leonard standing with his foot on the head of a dead rhinocerous, a rifle in his hands and a triumphant expression on his face.

Logan made a face. “I don’t blame them,” he said. “That painting is awful.”

“Not a big game hunter yourself?” I teased.

“No. And neither was he,” Logan said. “He never killed those animals himself. Always paid the locals to do it. Then he’d get his paintings and his photographs and his trophies and he’d come home with lies about his big ‘adventures’.”

As we continued, I watched Logan closely, noticing the subtle shifts in his demeanor. The way he avoided certain items, the brief pauses before he moved on, it all spoke volumes of the internal battles he was facing just by being here. But he was managing, at the very least.

Until…

Our search eventually led us to Leonard’s bedroom. The air here felt thicker, the presence of Logan’s father still palpable in the meticulously arranged personal belongings. He had died, right here, in the bed. It was still unmade. Leonard never would have allowed his housekeepers to leave a bed unmade while he was alive, but it was fitting for it to be as haphazard as it was now.

“Take your time,” I said softly as Logan hesitated in the doorway.

He nodded, stepping inside. His movements were slow, almost reverent, as he scanned the room. It was here, amidst Leonard’s personal effects, that the complexity of their relationship was most apparent.

It made me wonder how many times Logan had actually entered this room before. Probably not many.

While Logan examined his father’s desk, I wandered over to the closet. Most of the clothes were still hanging there, although there were a few empty hangers and some empty Rolex boxes that had been thrown on the floor. More remnants of Harry and Marina’s mad dash to clean the place out.

But then I saw something that caught my eye.

Something glinted at me from the darkness, something silver. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Logan was engrossed in what looked to be Leonard’s journal. I grabbed a chair and climbed up on it to get a better look, and there it was.

High on a shelf, hidden under a layer of dust, was a little silver box. With my curiosity piqued, I reached for it, my fingers brushing against the dusty lid. I pulled it out and blew on it, and the dust flew away in a big plume, revealing an ornate silver box with a red gem on the top.

“Hey,” I called out, drawing Logan’s attention. “Check this out.”

Lorgan furrowed his brow as I climbed down from the chair. “What’s that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Dunno. It was tucked away on that shelf up there. Doesn’t look like it’s been touched in ages.”

Logan joined me without a word, his eyes curious as I opened the box. Inside, there was an array of keepsakes—women’s keepsakes. Some jewelry, a few old Polaroids, a little datebook and some expired eyeshadow.

The pictures were faded, but I could make out a woman and a little boy in one of them; Logan and his mother, standing outside of a little storefront. She was holding him up against her chest, and they were both waving at the camera. They were smiling. And she was so, so beautiful

“Is this your mom’s stuff?” I asked, glancing up at Logan with tears in my eyes.

But he didn’t answer. His eyes were wide as he reached for something else, something that I hadn’t noticed yet. Whatever it was, a corner of it was peeking out of the bottom of the box. Logan tugged on it, and the false bottom came free, revealing that something was indeed tucked away at the bottom of the box; it was an envelope, yellowed with time but unopened.

The elegant handwriting on the front caught my eye—it was addressed to Logan.