Page 20 of When Stars Dream at Midnight (The Midnight Stars Saga #3)

20

MIREILLE

T he taxi slowed to a stop outside a stately building on Park Avenue, its limestone facade gleaming softly in the midday sun. My heart thudded in my chest as I stepped out, clutching my purse tightly. I tilted my head back to take in the height of the building, with its grand arches and tall windows. I gulped, fighting the urge to run.

A uniformed doorman greeted me, opening the door with a polite smile.

“May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Stella Bancroft. I’m Mireille Winchester.”

“Yes, yes. Mrs. Bancroft is expecting you. Come inside. I’ll take you to the elevator.”

I thanked him, following him into a vast, elegant lobby with marble floors and a grand chandelier. A bouquet of lilies decorated a table near the elevator. Breathing in their sweet scent nearly made me choke. My palms dampened. I had to resist the desire to wipe them on my suit jacket. I’d dressed carefully before heading to work that morning, but with war shortages, I hoped I didn’t look too shabby in my simple navy blue skirt paired with a crisp white blouse tucked neatly at the waist. Over it, I wore a tailored gray cotton cardigan appropriate for the temperate weather of May. My stockings were slightly worn at the heels, and my leather shoes, while polished, showed the scuffs of daily use. But what was one to do? We had a war going on. The last thing I worried about these days was my appearance. But standing there now in front of such a building, I felt self-conscious.

The doorman summoned the elevator. “Mrs. Bancroft is on the third floor. She’ll be waiting for you in the hallway.”

My mouth was so dry I couldn’t even thank him, simply nodded before stepping inside, watching the doors close with a clang and squeak. The faint ring of a bell marked one floor and then the next and finally stopped at the third and final floor. It seemed forever before the doors opened, but they eventually did. There she was. The woman who had given birth to me.

Her mouth twisted as she seemingly struggled to remain stoic, but it was of no use. Tears gathered in her thick lashes. She pressed the pads of her fingers against her upper lip. “I can’t think of a thing to say, which is odd because I’ve thought of this moment thousands of times.”

“I’m not sure either.” My voice cracked and fizzled at the end of the sentence.

She held out both her hands, and I took them, looking into her eyes. “I’m Stella. It’s nice to see you again. At long last.”

I took her in, absorbing every detail as if someone had asked me to memorize what she looked like. Not that I needed to. It was like looking into a mirror. I looked just like her. Only her face reflected several more decades of living than my own. She had chestnut hair and a full mouth, as well as a skinny nose that slanted up at the end. Her dark eyes were unmistakably mine. Or mine were hers, I supposed, since she came first. She had aged well, staying slim and smooth-skinned.

In fact, Stella Bancroft was stunning. She wore a flowing burgundy tea dress with a delicate floral pattern etched in darker thread along the neckline and cuffs. The fabric was soft and luxurious, draping effortlessly over her slender frame. A strand of pearls rested against her collarbone, complementing her outfit. Though her look was refined, smudges beneath her eyes hinted at melancholy. Perhaps that was only my imagination?

What did she see when she looked at me?

“We look so alike,” I said. All this time, I’d thought I looked like my father when, really, it was the woman standing before me now. “People always said I looked like Papa, but now I know it wasn’t so.”

She paled slightly. “It must be so hard to understand all of this.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But you’re here.”

“Am I what you expected?”

Stella smiled, nodding as if I’d just given her the best gift in the world. “Mauve did an excellent job of describing you to me. But also, your imprint has lived here since the day you were born.” She tapped her chest. “I held you for a while, just after your birth, knowing it would have to last me a lifetime.”

“Did Mama write a lot?” I asked.

“She did.” We stood awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other. “I’ll tell you all about it. Anything you want to know. Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She ushered me inside her apartment. “Welcome to my home. The girls are out. To give us privacy. They’re looking forward to meeting you. If you decide that’s what you want.”

The girls? My sisters. So they did know of my existence.

The space was beautiful but understated, filled with warm light and the faint scent of something savory cooking in the kitchen. A grand piano stood in one corner, its polished surface reflecting the sunlight streaming through the windows. Books lined the walls, and fresh flowers adorned a small side table, their fragrance subtle but sweet. A maid came forward, offering to take my handbag, which I gave to her. After she placed it in the closet, she hurried away.

Stella led me to a cozy seating area near the windows, where a small table was set for two with delicate china and silverware. “I thought we could have a simple lunch. I hope that suits?”

“Yes, whatever you have is fine.” My throat tightened as I took the seat she offered. She poured tea with an elegant flair of a woman used to entertaining. I glanced around the room once more. And rich. Like the Westbrooks.

There were several photographs displayed on the shelf across from me. I didn’t look at them carefully. That would have to wait. However, I spotted a wedding photo of Stella and Percival, with a little girl between them.

She must have noticed where my gaze landed because she said, “That was Percy and me on our wedding day. The little one is Clara. My stepdaughter. She was six when we married. We have three other daughters. Emmeline, Isabella, and Evelyn. Emmie is twenty-one. Isabella is nineteen, and my baby Evelyn is just seventeen. Clara’s all grown and married to a man named Leo and has been for five years now. I consider him one of mine, too.”

“Did they know about me?” I blurted out.

“My daughters? Oh yes. We don’t have secrets in this family.”

I flinched. We had secrets. A big fat one.

“What about your husband?” I asked. “He knew, too?”

“Yes, Percy has known the truth from the beginning. He found me on the train after I left you with Mauve and Pierre, nearly dead. He brought me here, and he and his mother nursed me back to health. Percy’s a doctor.”

“Is he here?”

“No, he’s overseas. Working at a military hospital in England. He’s been gone for over a year now. Leo, strangely enough, is also a doctor. He enlisted in the army and is currently somewhere in Europe, caring for wounded soldiers straight off the battlefield. It’s terrifying for us.” Stella handed me a cup of tea. “May I ask what happened to your husband?”

“When we joined the war effort, he enlisted in the Navy. He was killed in an attack.”

“I’m sorry, darling. As you know, I lost my first love. It’s such a deep cut.”

“My father?”

“Yes, that’s right. Constantine Harris. He was an only child with no family, other than a cousin, with whom I’ve lost touch, but I am sure we could track her down if you were interested.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Yes, well, you can decide at any time what you’re comfortable with. I hope you’ll want to meet my daughters, but I don’t want to force them upon you either.”

“I’d like to meet them.” I sipped my tea, splashing a little of it into the saucer because of my shaking hand. “How strange that I have sisters. As an only child, I never thought it was possible.”

“Yes, I know. Mauve wrote of her disappointment at not having other children. She loved being a mother and wife more than anything.”

I nodded as if I’d known that she and Papa had wanted more children, even though I hadn’t. How many secrets did Mama have?

“Can you tell me more about what happened to my sister and Pierre? I’ve worried and feared the worst, and it seems they have come to pass.”

I told her about my mother’s courage and that she’d died trying to save a child.

“As tragic as it is, I can’t say it surprises me,” Stella said. “Mauve was always the kindest, best person I knew. As much as it hurt to let you go, I knew you’d be better off with her.”

“Tell me how it all came to be. Spare no details.” I hadn’t told her how much Mama had exposed in her letter. I wanted to hear it directly from Stella.

She drew in a deep breath. “Yes, yes, of course. I was twenty years old and engaged to Constantine. Ironically, we met at your parents’ wedding. I fell head over heels for him, and soon we were engaged. I thought my whole life was before me and that we would be blissfully happy together. He was smart and clever. Very funny.” A sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “And then he was gone. Killed in an accident. Just like that, everything was over.”

I sat motionless, not daring to interrupt.

“At first, I thought the grief would kill me too. But soon, I realized I was carrying you. I knew I couldn’t keep you. An unmarried woman with a child—well, it was a bleak future. My father wanted nothing to do with me once I told them I was pregnant, so there was no financial support. Quite frankly, I couldn’t take care of myself, let alone a baby. Mauve and Pierre, however, were more than equipped for the job.”

Her gaze flickered down to her lap. “So I made an impossible choice. I asked Mauve and Pierre if they would take you. At first, my sister tried to convince me that we could somehow make it work—the three of us—me acting as auntie instead of mother. But I knew it wasn’t right for you or for them. It would have been selfish of me, and they would have come to resent my presence after a time. As good as they were, I knew they had limits. So, eventually, I convinced her that leaving you with them was the right thing to do, even though it felt like I was cutting off all four of my limbs at once.”

A cold pit settled in my stomach. How frightened she must have been.

“There was another complication. One I wasn’t fully aware of until Pierre told me.” Her voice faltered, and she glanced out the window, the fingers of her right hand twisting her wedding band round and round. “Pierre had learned the truth about my father. He was a mobster who ran in dangerous circles. Pierre believed that he’d ordered Constantine to be killed.”

“But why?”

“My father had told him he would give permission to marry me only if he agreed to join the family business, such as it was. Constantine was a man of principle. He refused. But now he knew the truth, and we think he may have threatened to go to the police. Which meant he was a threat to Father. So Father had him killed.” She turned back to me, her eyes dull. “Pierre was afraid of him after that. He didn’t want you or Mauve to have anything to do with my parents. He wanted to protect you.”

“Thus, we went to France.”

“Yes. They left without telling my parents where they were going. Then, shortly thereafter, my mother died.”

“What about him?” I held my breath.

“Your grandfather disappeared into thin air. We think he may have been killed and dumped into a lake or whatever the mobsters do with bodies. Or he could have simply left town and taken up a new life. Either way, I never saw him again.” Her voice grew husky. “If it hadn’t been for Percy and Paula, my mother-in-law, I would not have made it through the winter.”

I stared at her, stunned. “Why didn’t you go with my parents? Wouldn’t it have been better for you?” I asked, even though she’d already answered my question. However, I was having trouble understanding the kind of sacrifice she’d made. For me.

Stella pressed her lips together, her expression crumpling before she composed herself. “I couldn’t stay another moment, spend another second with you, and still be able to leave you. This is probably hard to understand, but I knew you wouldn’t have a chance of any kind of decent life if you stayed with me. So I fled. I came to New York with nothing. No family, no money, and no plan.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “You must have been so scared.”

Her gaze lifted to meet mine, and the grief in her eyes hit me like a punch to the stomach. “I was.” She hesitated, her voice breaking. “I did what I thought was best for you. But it broke my heart to let you go. That’s the thing I want you to understand, even if you decide you don’t want to see me again. What I did—giving you away—was the worst and hardest decision of my life. Not a day has passed since that I didn’t think about you. Long for you. Yet, seeing you now, I know I did the right thing.”

I sat back, the words sinking in as the weight of her confession settled over me. The sacrifices. The pain. The decisions made for me before I’d even taken my first breath.

“I wish they’d told me the truth,” I said. “Then I wouldn’t feel so betrayed. It’s just the lie of it—the enormous deceit—is hard to forgive.”

“They thought it would be too difficult for a child to understand.”

“Or they were worried I would leave them and try to find you.”

Stella reached for my hand, hesitating just a moment before covering it with her own. “If that is true, then you must try to think of it from their perspective. They loved you and didn’t want to risk losing you.”

“Yes, maybe, but they could have sent me to you at the outbreak of the war instead of a boarding school where I knew no one. I was sixteen years old. They sent me halfway around the world to live with strangers even though you were right here. Do you know the offices where I work are only a ten-minute walk from here?”

“I didn’t know you were here.” She lifted a napkin to her mouth, breathing in and out, obviously trying not to cry. “To think—all these years, you were so close, and I didn’t know. It’s hard to understand for me too. Especially knowing Mauve.”

“I’m surprised she told me the truth at all.”

“Yes, it’s odd that she waited until her death.”

I glanced down at the delicate floral pattern on the China, my fingers tightening around the cup. “I’m not ready to forgive them yet.”

Her expression softened, her gaze empathetic. “You’ll understand in time. Perhaps when you have a child of your own?”

I fought tears, thinking of my sweet George and all the children I’d hoped we have. “I lost my chance to be a mother when George died.”

“You might be surprised by a second chance at love. I was. When I started to have feelings for Percy, I fought it as hard as I could, feeling like I betrayed Constantine’s love.”

“What changed?”

“Well, that’s a rather complex narrative that will have to wait for another time.”

“Did you ever think about coming for me?” I asked quietly, the question spilling out before I could stop it. “After you met Percy and had all this.” I gestured toward the room.

“No. Your mother and I had an agreement. She and Pierre loved you from the moment you were born. Taking you away from them?” She shook her head. “I would never do that. Not only because it would have been devastating to lose you but because it would have been terrible for you, too. They were your parents. To rip you away from them? No. I’d made mistakes, but I would never forgive myself if I caused even more hurt than I’d already inflicted upon the world.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last words, and I looked up to see tears glistening in her eyes.

I swallowed hard, conflicting emotions roiling about in my stomach and chest. All three of them had had to make choices that required faith, loyalty, and deep love. They’d done it for me.

The maid brought two small bowls of a simple soup made from vegetables and a tray of cheese sandwiches. We ate sparingly, more interested in talking than filling our stomachs. She told me more about her life as a wife and mother and her work caring for the poor. “My mother-in-law, Paula, is a remarkable woman. We’re very close. She lives just a few blocks from here with her second husband. She married again a few years after Percy and I. Her first husband, Percy’s father, had been dead for many years. We were shocked, to say the least, when she fell in love with a wealthy widower named Jonathan Fletcher. He had no children of his own and welcomed the idea of a life with a big family. He’s a grandfather to our children. He and Percy have grown close over the years.”

My chest twinged with a sudden burst of pain. They’d all carried on as a big, happy family while I’d become part of the Westbrooks’ family.

“What happened to Clara’s mother? Percy’s first wife?” I asked.

“She passed away when Clara was small. It’s also a long story, which I’ll tell you about some other time.”

“So you raised someone else’s daughter, and someone else raised me?”

Stella flinched, clearly distressed by my question, but she answered calmly. “It is so. I can’t say I understand why, but it’s what came to pass. I’ve spent a lot of years learning how to let go of what could have been and embracing what is.”

“We have no other choice, do we?”

“I’m afraid not. What do you think? Shall we embrace what is? Would you like to be part of my life? Meet the rest of our family?”

Under the table, I twisted my napkin around one finger and pulled it tight. “I think I want to. It may take some time for me to work through all of my feelings, but I want to try.” A wave of grief washed over me. “I miss my parents. Knowing I’ll never see Mama again is—awful. Replacing them feels wrong.”

“You’ll never replace them. They loved you, and you loved them. But there’s room in the human heart for many loves. Our life’s enriched by each person we love. To deny yourself the joy of loving again after loss is a natural conclusion. However, it doesn’t mean it’s the right one.”

I tilted my head to the side, thinking of Peter. Of the ways in which we’d helped each other grieve. How close we’d become. How I’d resisted the idea of loving again and, most especially, my husband’s best friend. But if what Stella said was true, I could still love George and cherish our memories while also moving forward. Loving Peter.

God, did I love Peter?

“What is it?” Stella’s thin eyebrows raised.

“I was just thinking about someone. A man. My late husband’s best friend. My best friend’s brother. The complications are endless.”

“You have feelings for him?”

“I think I do. But every time I lean in that direction, I’m paralyzed with guilt. Peter was George’s best friend—like a brother.” I told her about how George’s parents had died and the Westbrook family had taken him into the fold. “Much like they have me.” Before I knew it, the entire story had spilled out of me. I described how we’d become a foursome and how George and I had fallen in love. “I never would have thought I’d be the one he wanted. George was larger than life, and I’m quiet and reserved. But he saw something in me from the beginning that he wanted. It didn’t take much convincing.” As I spoke, some truths I’d ignored came to the surface. “However, it’s Peter that I have the most in common with. It was always Betsy and George who were the fun ones, whereas Peter and I stood back, watching how they embraced every experience with such gusto—soaking in some of it through them.”

“When I first met Percy, I was still grieving Constantine, and I was devastated having to give you up. I never thought I’d love again. I actually thought I might die, and I didn’t care. And yet Percy found me that day on the train and took me home like I was an injured bird. Despite myself, I felt so drawn to him. It was like we fit together, even though it seemed wrong.”

“So you understand?” I asked.

“Perfectly. Do you want my advice?”

“Yes. Very much.” As I said the words, I realized how true they were. Sitting with her, baring my soul, it was as if I’d known her all my life. Even as that thought occurred to me, I was overwhelmed with guilt, remembering my mother. She’d loved me so much. Would she be hurt to see how I gravitated toward her sister? Or would she rest easily, knowing we had each other?

“Let your heart lead you, not your head. Also, remember, you’re still here. You’re alive. You’re young. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love again.” Stella leaned forward slightly. “What do you think Peter feels for you?”

I thought for a second or two, remembering all the times I’d looked up from reading or when we were out on the horses to see him watching me. Before the war and after. What had been in his eyes? Love? Admiration?

“He might have been in love with me from the beginning, but he knew I wanted George and didn’t stand in the way. He’s never once told me so, but since he’s been home, I’ve seen it in his eyes.” I went on to tell her about Diana and the baby, as well as his injury. “We’ve been a comfort to each other. Maybe it’s more than that. I don’t know.”

“If and when the time’s right, you’ll know.”

I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, shocked to see that we’d been talking for hours. “I’m afraid I have to go. My supervisor will wonder what’s happened to me. Normally, I eat a sandwich in our break room and get right back to work.”

“Please, don’t apologize. I am grateful to have had this time with you.”

We both stood, and she walked me to the door, where the maid waited with my handbag.

“We’re going out to our beach house for most of the summer. Would you want to join us for a week or so?” Stella asked. “You and your Betsy. Peter, too?”

“If Betsy and I could get some time off work, we could come for a week or so. I’ll have to think about it.”

“You could meet your sisters. Spend some time getting to know them. And with me, of course.”

“I’ll speak to Betsy and Peter. Time at the beach might be just what we all need. Thank you.”

She held out her arms, and I went into them, surprised by how natural it all seemed. Then I said goodbye and headed out to the warm May afternoon, marveling at this unexpected turn in my life’s trajectory. Stella’s words came back to me as I meandered down the sidewalk toward the office.

There’s room in the human heart for many loves.