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Shelves of wine took up all the walls, but in the middle of the space was a small table and chair. There was even a notepad on the table. Had Mr. E come down here by himself to tune the world out too?
But he’d always told her not to remain too long in the cellar since keeping the temperature constant was vital for the wine.
So this probably wasn’t the best hiding place. “Sorry, Mr. E, but I don’t care.” She pulled out the chair and sat, which was when she noticed her name at the top of the written note on the notepad.
She dragged the notepad closer.
Clary,
Let the wine be to celebrate victories and happiness. Not to drown your sorrows or stress.
I believe you can do anything you set your mind to. You have the same gumption I see in your nonna. But if things get too tough, come home.
If you came down here because you have something to celebrate, congratulations. I knew you could do it.
Edward Eolenfeld
Right under that was another note.
Clary,
I’m so proud of you. That will never change no matter what happens.
But even if you don’t fix the problem, there’s no harm in staying a little longer to see if a career in banking suits you.
Love you always,
Your nonna
Clary felt like crying and laughing at the same time. In the end, she settled for being grateful. Grateful to have people who doted on her; grateful that she hadn’t called Mr. E to ask him about Pete Laker.
“Thank you, Jesus.” She tore the note off the notepad and folded it, then stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket.
She got up and strolled along the shelves.
She pulled out a bottle tagged with a small yellow post-it note. ‘To Clary, for an extra special celebration.’ The wine had been bottled the year she was born.
Mr. E had once showed her the collection of wine he bought whenever an Eolenfeld was born.
“You bought one for me too.” That was when her tears fell.
Brushing away her tears, she drew in a few deep breaths and went back to the chair.
Seeing the note and bottle of wine gave Clary the shot of motivation she needed.
She took out her phone, entered the message application, and typed a reply to Pete Laker. She blew out a breath and hit the send button before she could spend too much time overthinking it.
Then she waited.
CHAPTER 8
Andrea was still rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes when she got downstairs. “You guys have opened your presents already?” she asked when she saw the opened wrapper and the oculus Oliver had on.
A flat-screen TV was on the coffee table they’d shifted back against the couch.
“Just Zane and me.” Oliver pulled off the oculus and the controls he wore like a guard on his hands. “Aldric and Elton are still sleeping.” He looked around. “Where’s Clary? She hasn’t opened her present.”
Andrea put the present she was holding under the tree. “Good. I completely forgot I was supposed to put her present here.”
