Smith

 

 

I worked my arms out like a motherfucker this afternoon. It wasn't at the gym. I left work shortly after noon and headed directly to Park Slope, here in Brooklyn.

A month ago I went and did the one thing I swear I'd never do again. I bought a brownstone. This one is at least in half-ass decent shape. The first one I bought three years ago was a massive pile of shit. The woman I bought it from, Sigrid Hull, did nothing to maintain it. 

That's not to say that my great-grandparents did any upkeep either. By the time I got my hands on that building, it had needed a total gut job. It took me a year and a half and a small fortune to restore the place to a fraction of what it once was.

I didn't need it to be magazine worthy. I needed it be livable and wheelchair accessible.

It's one of the few brownstones on the Upper East Side that comes with an elevator. It also comes with a boatload of memories for my granddad. His family owned the building before it was sold to Sigrid's parents more than fifty years ago when my great-grandfather's business took a massive hit.

Today, I started the remodel on the home I'm going to bring my sister and her twins to. Her husband left her without a word and she wants to be in New York where her family is. I'm going to make it happen. I want them here in Brooklyn. I want to jump full force into the role of uncle to those boys. 

My plan is to get Brynn on board for this project. I need her eye for design. I also want to give her a national platform to promote her business. It's the reason I've been pitching the idea to Resa of taking this remodel on air with Brynn at the helm of all the interior design aesthetics. I know we'll make a winning team.

I step out of the shower and towel-dry my hair before I look in the mirror. My left hand runs over my chest and the spot where I'm thinking of getting inked. I'm taking inspiration from Brynn's tattoo. Family is everything to me too and I'm sure as shit aware of how lucky I am in that department.

I look down at my phone on the bathroom counter when it chimes, hoping it's another message from Brynn. She texted me right before I hopped in the shower telling me she's on her way.

It's a text from my younger brother Simon.

Dude, there's a beautiful woman here looking for you.

I scratch my chin as I reread it. Then I thumb back a quick response.

 I'm not falling for this again, you little shit. I have plans tonight. I can't come over.

I watch as the three small dots bounce across the screen before his reply pops up.

Gramps is telling her stories and she's eating it up. Seriously you asshole, why would a woman like this want anything to do with you?

My grandfather is talking to someone he's not related to? What the hell?

I don't have a chance to respond before his next message comes through.

Her name is Brynn. She's crying, dude. What should I do?

Brynn's at the brownstone? Why the fuck is Brynn at the brownstone?
I scoop up my phone and text a message back to him as I jog to my bedroom to get dressed.

Keep her there. I'm on my way.

 

***

 

I burst through the door of the brownstone, sweating profusely through my white T-shirt and jeans from the non-air conditioned taxi ride over. I debated taking the subway or calling on Arthur to bring me here, but a taxi, at this time of day, was the best choice to get me here as soon as possible.

I rub my hand over my brow as I scan the foyer. Nothing. Dead silence.

I call out. My voice is shaky and rough. "Brynn? Where are you?"

My sister-in-law, Jaylee, rounds the corner from the main sitting room. "Smith? What took you so long?"

"My private helicopter is in the shop," I quip. "I had to come from Brooklyn, Jay. I made good time."

"She left." She reaches out to touch my hand. "We tried to keep her here, but she took off. She was torn up about someone named Caroline. Gramps told her a few stories about this Caroline person and Brynn lost it."

"Caroline?" I search her face for another clue. "Who the hell is Caroline?"

"Someone Gramps knew when he was young."

I shake my head as I scroll through the contact list on my phone until it lands on Brynn's number. I call her but it rings straight through to voicemail.

"I don't get how she ended up here." I thumb out a quick text telling her to call me. "She told me she knew where I lived. I was waiting for her at my place."

"She knew you owned this place." She taps her bare toe on the hardwood floor. "She told Gramps that you bought it three years ago. She knew that."

How? How in the ever loving fuck does Brynn know that I bought this place? I caught wind of it when my grandpa called to tell me that Sigrid had reached out to him to give him first shot at purchasing it. The only reason she did that was because he'd stop by here on a regular basis to ask if he could sit in the garden. Sigrid's grandparents and parents never minded, but Sigrid wasn't as accommodating.

"I don't get it," I say aloud. "Where's Gramps?"

"I think he's with Simon and the boys in the kitchen." She gestures down the long, narrow corridor. "You're welcome to stay for dinner, Smith. I made enough for all of us."

"I can't stay," I mutter as I march down the corridor. "I need to find Brynn."

"Here it is." My grandfather's voice startles me from above. "I found it. I knew I'd kept it all these years."

He descends the wooden staircase slowly. He refuses to use the elevator at the back of the house. "You're just in time, my boy. I was going to show Simon and Jaylee a picture."

I move to help him, taking the steps two at a time until I reach him and plant a soft kiss on his wrinkled forehead. "Show me, Gramps. Show me the picture."

"Get me to the bottom first." He pats my hand.

I do. I lead him carefully down the stairs even though he handles them by himself multiple times a day.

"Hello to you too, Smith," my brother calls from the kitchen. "Bring that damn picture in here. We haven't had this much excitement here, well, since never."

"Don't listen to him." My grandpa holds tight to my forearm. "We play poker two nights a week after the kids go to bed. Your brother always loses to me."

I don't doubt that for a second. I've played poker with them. It brings out the best and the worst in the men in my family.

I round the corner to the kitchen and spot Simon immediately. His oldest son, Cameron, is seated next to him at the table, and his youngest, Brett, is on his lap. I lead Gramps over before I bend down and swipe my hand across Brett's brow.

"She's something else." Simon grabs my hand. "This Brynn woman is amazing."

"Hey," Jaylee laughs from behind me. "I'm right here, Simon."

"You know you're it for me, babe." He puckers his lips. "Smith's girl is perfect for us though."

"For us?" I chuckle. "What the hell does that mean?"

"She got that one to stop acting like someone pissed in his cereal." He jerks his thumb at Gramps. "Ignore the word pissed, boys."

I arch a brow. "Brynn's an incredible person."

"She colored with the boys in their coloring books, and…" his voice trails as he looks at his sons before he focuses his gaze back on my face. "She didn't ask me about the chair, Smith. Not one question. There wasn't an ounce of pity in her eyes."

I swallow back the emotion I always feel when he brings up the wheelchair he'll spend the rest of his life in. He got in a car with someone who was just as high as he was. The other guy, the driver, didn't make it when they crashed in Florida. Simon made it out with his life. He's worked hard to recover. I'm still praying for a miracle for him, even though he's embraced his life just as it is now.

Jaylee, a woman he met in rehab, has been a driving force in his recovery. They've both been clean for years and now that they're parents, they've devoted their lives to taking care of their boys and our grandfather.  Simon's goal now is a teaching degree. I know he'll make it happen.

"There's no reason to pity you," I point out with a grin and a scratch to the five o'clock shadow that's settled over my jaw. "The beard you're trying to grow is pitiful but we can't all be me."

"The picture, boys." Our grandfather shoves a square, black and white photograph in the space between us. "This is Caroline."

I gaze down at the picture, my eyes locked on the young girl with the dark hair and big smile.

"Hey, this Caroline person looks just like Brynn." Simon taps his index finger on the edge of the image. "How do you know Caroline, Gramps?"

"We played together when we were kids." He runs his hand over Cameron's back. "She'd come here with her mother and we'd go in the garden. We shared our first kiss back there, if you can call it that. It wasn't more than a quick peck."

None of this makes sense to me. I've never once heard Julian mention a woman named Caroline.

"Your mom and Caroline's mom were friends?" I question.

"No." Gramps hangs his head. "Her mother worked for mine. Caroline's mom was our housekeeper. She told me she always wanted to live in this house and I told her we were like family so she should move right in. I didn't understand that's not how it worked with the help."

I lace my fingers behind my neck and take a deep breath. I need answers and there's only one person who can give them to me since Brynn has gone silent. I type out a text to Julian and then press send.

I need you to tell me who Caroline is. I'm looking at a picture of her from when she was a kid. She looks just like Brynn.

"Soon after this picture was taken your great grandmother fired her mother and I never saw Caroline again. I tried to find her after your grandmother died, but I couldn't track her down."

I drop my gaze back to my phone when it chimes, my heart hammering in my chest as I read Julian's text.

A picture? Of Caroline? Where are you? What the hell is going on?

I don't have time to get into the long version of this twisted tale. I want a short and sweet answer so I can understand why Brynn is so torn up.

Who is Caroline?

I send it off as my grandfather starts off on a tangent about when he was a kid. His words all blend together as I stare at my phone.

Our grandmother. Jane's mother. She died a couple of years ago. I barely knew her.

"Would you look at this?" Gramps waves the picture in the air again, this time the back is visible. "Caroline drew a little something for me here. I forgot all about that."

I snatch the picture from his hand and stare at the faded pencil drawing. It's a heart with one word written inside of it. Family.

It's an exact match to the tattoo on Brynn's elbow.

Another text message pops up on my phone from Julian.

She was Brynn's whole world. I don't think she's ever gotten over her death. It broke her. She hasn't been the same since.

There's only one place Brynn runs to when she's broken. I know where and as I take off down the long corridor toward the front door of the brownstone, I yell back at my family that I love them. I do, but not as much as I love my beautiful Brynn.