I’m sorry.
forget about me.LincTen years laterI adjusted my tie, frowning in the mirror as my hands shook. It was ridiculous to be nervous. Today was the last item to be checked off the list, and then my past would be locked away where it should be. The past.
I sat down at the island in my kitchen and picked up my coffee.
“Can I get you anything, Lincoln? A bagel or perhaps something more substantial?”
“No thanks, Mrs. Ellis. Coffee is fine.” I smiled at my housekeeper. She was still new and getting to know the place and me. “I rarely eat breakfast.”
She clucked, wiping down the counter. “At least you eat the meals I leave you—sometimes.”
I chuckled and held out my cup for a refill, then headed into my office. I looked out the window at the city below me, a strange ache in my chest pushing at me.
I glanced at my watch, knowing I had to go, and dreading it.
But it was time.
The last time I would ever face the memory of my father.The streets were still quiet when I pulled my car into Mission Cove. I was early, my lawyer not arriving until ten, and without conscious thought, I drove to the east end of town, pulling up in front of a place that used to feel like home.
The small house was gone now, replaced as most of those in the neighborhood were, with newer, larger homes. Mission Cove had prospered in the past three years, and I had made sure all areas were developed. My father would roll over in his grave if he knew how his money was being used.
That thought alone was the one thing that brought a tight smile to my face.
I kept driving.
The deserted campground was now a playground for children, with a picnic area for families. It was well maintained, with safe equipment and a pool for the hot summers. It had been aptly named The Sunny Place. I blinked at the onslaught of emotions that threatened to engulf me as memories I kept locked away attempted to break through. I shook my head and pulled away, knowing the entire day was going to be the same.
One sad, aching reminder of all I had lost.
In town, the streets were clean, a few stores already open and getting ready for the day. Tourist season hadn’t hit yet, but as always, there would be some travelers around. Most of the old businesses were gone, replaced by newer ones. But the diner was still there, although it had been upgraded and modernized. The local dry cleaner was already open, the windows clean and bright. They had added a self-serve laundromat, which I was certain was very busy in the tourist season. It was a good addition. Around the corner, the animal shelter had a newer, larger building, completely subsidized by an anonymous donor. They never had to worry about it being shut down again.
I parked the car and glanced up at the overhanging vista. My father’s house still stood on the hill, overlooking the town. The sun bounced off the windows, reflecting the light in a thousand directions—the only light that house ever had to it. That would change soon.
I climbed out of the car to take a stroll, unable to sit any longer. I slid sunglasses on to my face, not that I was worried about being recognized. The boy who left this town ten years ago was unrecognizable now.
My light hair had darkened, and I wore it longer than I used to, the back hitting the collar of my suit jacket. I had filled out completely, thanks, first, to the summer camp, then the two years at the “private school” where I’d lived. The gym, working out, and my ongoing plans for revenge were the only ways I had to cope with the isolation I endured, and I made full use of it. Now my shoulders were wide, my muscles tight and strong, and I walked with my head high, no longer hiding. All my suits were custom made to fit my shoulders, and I wore them like a cloak. Dressed in them, I was powerful and untouchable. No longer the scared, beaten boy—son of Franklin Thomas—but my own man. Lincoln Webber.
I had rejected everything that was my father and taken on my mother’s maiden name, changing it as soon as I could once I returned to Canada.
Today was the final step in dismantling my father’s legacy.
I walked along once-familiar streets, looking in windows and pleased with the changes I could see. Changes I had instigated that would benefit this town. Memories surrounded me at every turn, and I gave up trying to fight them off.
It wasn’t a surprise that she was everywhere. All my good memories were tied to her—this entire town was tied to her. Her ghost followed me with each step, whispering memories in my ear. I paused at the corner and raked a hand through my hair, wondering if this was a mistake. I should have let my lawyer handle it all, but I had wanted to do this.