Page 117 of Blacklist

It’s embarrassing to think it’s my first real job. I’ve volunteered for years, but it’s not the same. Bluebird offered me a small salary that I don’t need yet. But it’s the first honest money I’ve ever made. I know exactly what I’m going to do with it. Half to the shelter. The other half saved in a college fund for Ellie. I won’t pretend her future is safe with MacLaine Media on the line. I’m not sure that Malcolm or Ginny are ready to admit that, and I can’t trust them to think about anyone but themselves. I won’t let her wind up like me, completely dependent on her father or any man.

A towering arrangement of magnolia blossoms wobbles into the foyer. I peer around it to find Felix holding the vase.

“These are beautiful,” I murmur as he places them on a table. I lean down to breathe in their creamy vanilla aroma. It’s the slight tang of lemon hiding under it that I love though. My mom always told me to wear magnolia perfume because Southern women might be sweet but they still know how to bite.

Felix hands me a card with a wink. “It looks like you have an admirer.”

My fingers tremble as I take it. Most men send roses. There’s one man that knows I love magnolias. I can’t bring myself to break the seal. I’m not sure what I want that card to say.

And there’s other things I need to confront. “I want to talk to you about Ellie.”

We’ve been avoiding each other for the most part. Since daddy put Felix in charge of Ellie’s inheritance, Felix has continued to serve as the family butler. We can’t keep pretending that the will didn’t change things.

The smile slips from his face, but he nods. “I thought you might.”

“There’s some things that we should discuss,” I begin.

“You can do that with me,” Malcolm interrupts before I can tell Felix my plans. It’s not like him to be home this early. His shirt sleeves are rolled to his elbows. Judging from his bloodshot eyes, he’s already on his second drink of the afternoon.

“Tough day at the office?” I ask.

“No, long night followed by an even longer morning,” he says. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate me sending him home to his wife and daughter yesterday. He lists a bit on his feet, and I worry he’ll tip over on the marble floor.

“Maybe you should slow down before dinner,” I suggest.

“Care to tell me where you’ve been?” he asks.

I slip the envelope into my purse and brace for impact. There’s no way I’m explaining myself to him. Malcolm may think he can replace our father as head of house, but I’m done living under a man’s thumb. “I’m an adult. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Exactly! I don’t care where you were last night,” he spits back. He lowers his voice so that it won’t echo in the foyer. “You could afford me the same courtesy in the future.”

“I’m not the one who’s married,” I say, “and cheating on his wife!”

Felix shows no sign of surprise at this revelation. He busies himself with arranging the blossoms. As usual, he’s here blending into the background. He’s always been more than a keeper of the kitchen and schedules and party plans. He’s a keeper of our secrets. Our own professional guardian hired by our mother to watch over us. I often think mom would be disappointed in us, because I know Felix is.

“Goddammit, Adair!” Malcolm storms to daddy’s office and I’m right behind him. He points behind me. “Shut the door.”

I do so because, unlike Malcolm, I know that Felix is listening. And where Felix is, Ellie is usually nearby. She doesn’t need to hear us argue.

“What are you freaking about out about now?” I ask.

“I got a call this afternoon from Trish McHugh at Bluebird Press,” he tells me. “She wanted to touch base with me about business given our father’s passing. By the way, she sends her condolences.”

My hand finds the smooth side of the bookshelf and I lean into it.

He continues, his eyes hard and dark like our father’s would be if he were here. “She also wanted to make certain that there’s not going to be an interruption of ownership given that she just hired a new editor.”

“I don’t see how any of this involves you,” I say. “Daddy left Bluebird to me.”

“Did you tell her that?” he asks. “I can’t imagine there are many Adairs out there with English degrees looking for editorial jobs in downtown Nashville.”

I shrug, trying to act casual. “You might be surprised. It’s not like there’s a lot of work for English majors.”

“Don’t sass me,” he says, channeling Daddy even more. I half-expect him to whip off his belt and drive the point home.

Not that I would let him. Not that anyone will ever touch me that way again. I push away from the bookshelf, forcing myself to stand firmly on my feet. I will not back down to him. Not today. Not ever. “You mind your business and I’ll mind mine. I know what I’m doing.”

“Says the slut getting in bed with Sterling Ford,” he says.