Chapter 13 - The Secret Room Becomes a Room
By summer, the east-wing suite no longer had a lock.
It also no longer had Lily's belongings.
Charles did not know what to do with it.
For months he left it empty.
Then Lily suggested something that surprised him.
"Make it a guest room."
They were eating sandwiches in a park near the Charles River when she said it.
Charles looked at her.
"You want people sleeping there?"
"People already slept there. Me. Against my will. The room isn't guilty."
Charles stared at the river.
"I thought maybe I should seal the passage."
"That would be extremely on brand."
He laughed despite himself.
"What would you do?"
"Stop asking me what you should do with your house."
"Right."
Lily took another bite.
"But since you already asked, leave the passage. Fix the light. Put a normal handle on the door."
"Why leave it?"
"Because pretending the house never had secrets is how this family got here."
Charles thought about that for weeks.
He eventually did exactly what she said, then felt guilty for doing what she said.
His therapist told him that was progress of a sort.
Ava learned about the renovation from Lily, not Charles.
She was glad.
By then, Ava had moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Somerville with crooked floors and terrible kitchen cabinets.
She loved it.
The building had been constructed in 1912 and renovated badly in the 1980s. She spent weekends stripping paint from the window trim and discovered three layers of wallpaper behind a built-in shelf.
Every hidden thing she found there was ordinary.
That felt luxurious.
One Saturday, Lily came over carrying her violin and a bag of groceries.
"I need to practice somewhere my upstairs neighbor won't bang on the ceiling."
"You think my neighbors won't?"
"You have better insulation."
"Historic plaster finally pays off."
Lily played for nearly an hour while Ava repaired a cabinet hinge.
Afterward they cooked pasta.
Lily asked whether Ava ever missed Charles.
Ava did not answer immediately.
"Yes."
"Do you regret divorcing him?"
"No."
Lily nodded.
"People act like those answers can't coexist."
"People dislike untidy endings."
"Our family built an entire culture around avoiding them."
Ava looked at her.
"How are things with Margaret?"
Lily rolled her eyes.
"She sends flowers instead of apologies."
"What kind?"
"Peonies. The aggressive rich-person flower."
Ava laughed.
"Are you speaking?"
"Once every two weeks. Fifteen minutes. If she discusses where I live, I hang up."
"Does she learn?"
"Slowly."
Lily stirred the sauce.
"Charles says she asked about you."
Ava's hand stopped over the salt.
"Why?"
"No idea. I didn't ask."
Ava resumed cooking.
That was another change.
Once, a question like that would have occupied her for days.
Now she could leave it unanswered.
In August, Charles emailed Ava for the first time since the divorce.
The subject line read: Your books.
She had forgotten two boxes in the library.
He offered to have them delivered.
Ava wrote back that she would pick them up herself.
She surprised herself by meaning it.
The mansion looked smaller when she returned.
Not physically.
Psychologically.
Charles opened the door.
He had lost weight. His hair was longer. He wore jeans.
"Hi."
"Hi."
The awkwardness was enormous and strangely manageable.
"Books are in the library."
Ava followed him.
The hidden shelf stood open.
Lights had been installed along the old passage.
At the far end, the east-wing door was open too.
Ava stopped.
Charles noticed.
"Lily told me not to seal it."
"That sounds like Lily."
"She also told me to stop turning every object into a moral symbol."
"That also sounds like Lily."
Charles smiled.
They packed the books into Ava's car together.
When the last box was gone, Ava stood on the front steps.
"How are you?"
"Better than I deserve and worse than I prefer."
"Still in therapy?"
"Yes."
"Good."
He looked toward the house.
"I changed my role at the foundation."
"You don't have to report progress to me."
Charles nodded.
"You're right. Sorry."
Ava looked at him.
"Charles."
"Yes?"
"You can become a better person without turning me into the audience for it."
His face softened.
"I know."
This time she let him say it.
They stood in silence.
Then he held out a small brass key.
Ava recognized it immediately.
The old key to the secret room.
"Why do you still have that?"
"I found it in my desk. I thought it should be destroyed."
Ava looked at the key.
"Then destroy it."
"I thought maybe Lily should decide."
"Then ask Lily."
Charles laughed quietly.
"Right."
He closed his hand around it.
Ava walked down the steps.
This time, when she left the Harrington house, she did not feel like she was escaping.
At her car, Ava opened the passenger door and found one of the book boxes had split along the bottom.
Charles saw it from the steps. His body leaned forward instinctively.
For years he had solved problems before anyone asked.
He stopped himself.
"Do you want help?" he called.
Ava looked at the broken box, then at him.
"Yes. Hold the bottom."
He came down and did exactly that. Nothing more.
Together they transferred the books into a reusable grocery bag from her trunk.
"This is profoundly undignified," Charles said.
"For whom?"
"The first edition of Edith Wharton currently sitting under windshield fluid."
Ava laughed.
When the books were secure, Charles stepped back without waiting for thanks.
That small act stayed with her more than his apologies.
She got behind the wheel.
This time, when she left the Harrington house, she did not feel like she was escaping.
She felt like a visitor going home.
At the next red light, Ava noticed she was crying.
She did not pull over.
She did not call Nina or Lily or her mother to explain what the tears meant. She let grief remain unclassified for the length of two traffic lights.
The marriage had ended. The affection had not vanished on command. Charles's growth did not turn the past into a misunderstanding, and Ava's sadness did not turn the divorce into a mistake.
When she reached Somerville, she carried the books upstairs one bag at a time.
On the final trip, a neighbor held the building door for her.
"Moving in?" he asked.
Ava looked at the stack in her arms.
"Still, apparently."
May you like
He laughed and went on his way.
Ava liked the answer enough to remember it.
