Chapter 2 - Lucy Walked Into My Mansion and Asked Why Nobody Had Taken Down the Christmas TreeMy mansion had twenty-three rooms.
Lucy counted them.
She stopped at twelve.
Then she got distracted by the staircase.
Then the chandelier.
Then the indoor fountain.
Then the Christmas tree that hadn't been decorated in three years.
She stared at it.
“That's a lot of lights.”
I stood behind her.
“Yeah.”
“Why aren't they on?”
I didn't answer.
She looked at me.
“Are they broken?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because nobody uses them.”
She thought about that.
“That's sad.”
I almost told her she was seven and didn't understand.
Instead, I said,
“Maybe.”
Marcus carried her small bag inside.
It contained three shirts.
Two pairs of socks.
One stuffed rabbit with one missing ear.
That was everything she owned.
My housekeeper, Mrs. Carter, nearly cried when she saw her.
“Mr. Hale?”
“She's staying for a week.”
Mrs. Carter looked at Lucy.
“A week?”
“Yes.”
Lucy raised her hand.
“Can I have pancakes?”
Mrs. Carter smiled.
“Of course.”
Lucy looked at me.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
It was the first genuine smile I'd seen in my house in years.
That night, I sat at the dining table.
Lucy sat across from me.
There were twelve empty chairs.
She looked around.
“Why are there so many?”
“For guests.”
“Do guests come?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I stared at my plate.
“I don't invite them.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I don't like people.”
She thought about that.
“Do you like me?”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Then you don't hate everyone.”
I didn't know what to say.
After dinner, she asked to see the Christmas tree.
I told her she could decorate it.
She nearly exploded with excitement.
Mrs. Carter brought boxes from storage.
Lucy pulled out ornaments.
A silver angel.
A red star.
A wooden reindeer.
Then she found a small blue ornament.
She stared at it.
“What's this?”
I froze.
It was Noah's.
I hadn't seen it in three years.
Lucy held it carefully.
“Can I put it up?”
I couldn't speak.
I nodded.
She reached the tree.
Then she turned.
“You do it.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
I walked over.
She handed me the ornament.
Together, we hung it.
For the first time in three years, I turned the Christmas lights on.
The entire room glowed.
Lucy smiled.
I looked at the tree.
And for the first time since Claire and Noah died, Christmas didn't feel like an insult.
Later that night, I found Lucy asleep on the couch.
Her stuffed rabbit was tucked beneath her chin.
I carried her upstairs.
I placed her in the guest bedroom.
Before leaving, I noticed something.
A small scar behind her left ear.
I had seen that scar before.
On Noah.
My heart tightened.
I told myself it was coincidence.
Then Lucy opened her eyes.
“Mr. Vincent?”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to die?”
I froze.
“Who told you that?”
“My mommy.”
I sat beside her.
“What else did she tell you?”
“That you were sick.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“She said you would need someone.”
“Someone?”
Lucy nodded.
“Someone who would remind you that you wanted to live.”
My throat tightened.
“Lucy…”
She reached for my hand.
“Don't be scared.”
I squeezed her fingers.
For the first time in years, someone was comforting me.
A seven-year-old child.
I didn't sleep that night.
I called Samuel.
“You told someone.”
“I didn't.”
“Lucy knows I'm dying.”
Samuel went silent.
“What girl?”
I told him.
He immediately said,
“Bring her to me.”
“Why?”
“Because Anna Parker was a patient of mine.”
My blood turned cold.
“Anna?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
“Samuel, what did she tell you?”
He hesitated.
“She told me something about Claire.”
I sat up.
May you like
“What?”
“She said your wife's death wasn't an accident.”
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