Chapter 10 - THE HOUSE WITH THE YELLOW DOOR
The only person who knew where Rosie was had been dead for eighteen months.
At least, that was what Nicholas believed.
I sat beside Arthur while Agent Miller replayed the recording.
"Grandma Margaret told you about Maeve?"
"Yes," Nicholas answered.
"What did she say?"
"That Maeve was brave. And that if something bad happened, she would help us."
I covered my face.
My mother had trusted me with a responsibility I didn't even know existed.
Arthur gently placed his hand over mine.
"You don't have to carry this alone."
I looked at him.
"Neither do you."
Something softened in his eyes.
But the moment passed when Nicholas spoke again.
"Grandma said the girl with the yellow door would keep Rosie safe."
Agent Miller asked him to explain.
The boy hesitated.
"She lives near the water. There are white flowers outside."
My heart jumped.
A yellow door.
White flowers.
Near the water.
I knew that house.
My mother's closest friend, Eleanor Price, lived in a small cottage overlooking Lake Michigan.
Eleanor had helped care for Mom during her final illness.
She was a retired schoolteacher with silver hair, warm eyes, and a habit of baking blueberry muffins for every visitor.
I'd visited her twice after the funeral.
The last time, she'd mentioned she was caring for a young relative.
I hadn't asked who.
I called her immediately.
"Eleanor?"
"Maeve, sweetheart. What a surprise."
My voice trembled.
"Is Rosie with you?"
Silence.
Then I heard a small sound.
A child's laugh.
Eleanor sighed.
"Oh, Margaret. You should have told her sooner."
My knees weakened.
"She's there?"
"She's safe."
I began crying.
"Thank God."
Eleanor spoke gently.
"Maeve, there's something you need to understand. Rosie doesn't know who Arthur Romano is."
I looked at him.
He was watching me with desperate hope.
"Then we'll tell her carefully."
"Please don't rush her."
"We won't."
Eleanor hesitated.
"And there's something else."
"What?"
"Rosie has been having nightmares. She remembers the people who took her from Margaret."
My stomach tightened.
"Who took her?"
Eleanor lowered her voice.
"Walter Carmichael."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The man who'd spent seven years ordering me to take out garbage had been helping destroy children's lives.
But Eleanor wasn't finished.
"Maeve, Rosie has been keeping something hidden since Margaret died."
"What?"
"A little wooden box. She says her real mother told her never to open it unless she found the right person."
Arthur leaned closer.
I swallowed.
"Who's the right person?"
Eleanor paused.
Then whispered:
"Rosie says the box belongs to the man with the gray eyes."
May you like
Arthur went completely still.
And I realized the little girl had been waiting for her father all along.
