A quick look inside proved these were notebooks filled with pages upon pages of flowery handwriting. They couldn't have been Violet's - the paper was thin and yellowing, obviously older than anything my plaything would have owned. I furrowed my brows, staring at the scribbled pages and trying to decipher the story those journals had to tell.
This could be a clue. A fucking important one.
And while I waited for Jasper to make sure the liquidation was processed, I had enough time to start going through the journals one by one. Anything to get me a step closer to finding Violet.
I began reading.
Diary of Brynne Davenport - March 4th, 1989
It's been a few days since I got flowers from my secret admirer. I still have them in my bedroom, though they're starting to wilt. I don't think I can bring myself to throw them away, though. I'm going to keep them forever, even though I'm not sure where things are going with Mr. Admirer.
I want to like him, I really do... but there's just something about Mr. Romantic, something that pulls me toward him like an irresistible magnetic force. It's so hard to fight it, and it gets harder with every second I spend in his company.
It quickly became obvious the diaries belonged to Violet's mother, and I furrowed my brows. I wasn't sure how reading her entries would help me find her daughter now, years later, but I had nothing else to do, except wait for the caller from the other night to make good on his promise. So I kept on reading, hoping I would find more in Violet's mother's diary, another hint perhaps, or at least the names of the two men who'd been pursuing her.
I read some of the entries prior to the one I'd first opened the page on, then went back to March 4th. By then, I was invested - I wanted to know who the two men courting Violet's mother were. I assumed one of them was Hugo Cabot, though there were no hints to his true identity. For whatever reason, Brynne kept their names hidden - perhaps out of fear somebody would find her diary. It seemed as if she had quite strict parents.
Diary of Brynne Davenport - March 5th, 1989
I asked Mr. Romantic today why he didn't get me anything for Valentine's day, and I think I may have poked the hornet's nest with that question.
He took me out in secret. I climbed down the tree next to my bedroom and snuck out with him, and I didn't regret anything at all. Mr. Romantic is so thoughtful, so it surprised me he hadn't done anything for me for the most romantic day of the year. But he seemed annoyed by my question. He asked me if I got anything from other people, and I had to tell him about Mr. Admirer. He didn't like that one bit. In fact, he got jealous! I know I shouldn't get excited about that, but it made me feel so wanted to know two men were after me!
Two handsome, successful older men who both want me... What more could a girl want?
Anyway, Mr. Romantic told me he didn't believe in Valentine's Day.
It shouldn't have upset me as much as it did, but I couldn't help myself. What's so terrible about celebrating the holiday with someone you have feelings for? But Mr. Romantic was adamant. He doesn't believe in Valentine's Day and he never will. It really made me sad. A future without a single Valentine's Day celebration doesn't seem so exciting now... but Mr. Romantic is so dreamy. I can't help but think about him when I'm all by myself...
I closed the diary and put it aside. There were only a couple pages left, but something was nagging me, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
The thing about Valentine's Day. I'd heard it before. I remembered my father saying it to my mother when I was younger and she got upset about not getting flowers on the day that was so important to her. And all those years ago, my father had uttered the same words Brynne Davenport wrote about in her diary from decades ago.
I don't believe in Valentine's Day.
My heart began racing as I started to put the puzzle pieces together.
It was obvious one of the men in Brynne Davenport's life was Hugo Cabot. But the other... the other man was none other than my father.
As soon as I came to that realization, it was as if everything clicked into place instantly. It was my father. Dominic Windsor was Mr. Romantic.
I returned to the diaries with new found vigor, flipping through the pages, eager to find out what happened. This, I now realized, was the real reason behind the animosity between mine and Violet's fathers. They were divided by the love they shared for the same woman. A woman who was long gone by now.