The Lost Story of Eva Fuentes - 25

London

2024

“I think they’re related—Bennett Baskin and Eva Fuentes.”

She’d spent much of the flight from Boston to London researching Bennett Baskin through the plane’s available, albeit spotty, Internet connection.

From what she could tell, his money came from real estate investing with a focus on commercial properties. He was American, but it looked like a great deal of his operations were based in the UK, which somewhat explained the private club. There were a few photos of him at various charity events, but he seemed like he mostly kept a low profile. He appeared to be in his sixties or so; she’d bet anything that one of his parents was the baby Eva had given up for adoption, the reason she’d been staying at that home in Boston when the book was published.

Luke smiled. “I had a feeling that was why you’d agreed to meet with him. I could see the wheels in your mind turning, just didn’t know what conclusion you’d reached. I think you’re right. The age makes sense.”

“And I can understand why he would want the book for sentimental reasons if his grandmother wrote it,” Margo added. “I just don’t understand why someone else is going to such lengths to find the book as well.”

“Agreed. Hopefully, he’ll shed some light on the book’s contents.”

“If he confirms it and gives us permission to tell Adriana, do you think she would feel like she’d accomplished her mission of returning A Time for Forgetting to Eva’s family?” Margo asked.

“I’ll have to talk to her, but I think so.”

In the past, she would have waited, too afraid to confront this feeling inside of her, too afraid to be vulnerable. But she wasn’t the person she’d been when she first fell in love with Luke, wasn’t willing for her life to be defined by her past. She wanted to be brave.

Margo took his hand, lacing their fingers together.

Luke moved closer to her in his airplane seat, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders, and she sank into the curve of his body.

Margo glanced down at her watch. They had an hour before they touched down at Heathrow.

Before they left Boston, she’d texted Greer the address of her favorite pub in Mayfair and told him she’d meet him there after her flight landed. She’d been going there since grad school and the staff knew her well. Having a home turf advantage would make all the difference. Not to mention, having Luke by her side helped.

Margo spotted them as soon as she and Luke entered the pub.

They had taken a table in the corner, and William Greer had positioned himself with his back to the wall, his gaze fixed on the entrance. If they were surprised to see Luke with her, neither one of them showed it.

Margo scanned the crowd in the pub quickly, Luke doing the same beside her, but it was empty save for the staff, Greer and Bennett, and a couple of regulars seated near the bar.

Both men rose as she and Luke approached the table.

Bennett Baskin was slim of build, with a full head of dark hair, gray at the temples. His suit was impeccable from the cut of his navy jacket and pants to the flawless white shirt. It was the kind of suit that was probably tailored in a decades-old shop on a cobblestoned street with a coat of arms over the door.

Margo slid into one of the two empty chairs at the table and both men took their seats once more. She could tell that Luke hesitated, that he was annoyed Greer had already taken the position that gave the best view of the room, but he stayed silent and sat down next to her.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Bennett said smoothly, his focus on her, completely ignoring Luke’s presence.

“I’m Bennett Baskin. I had William hire you to find A Time for Forgetting. ”

“Why?” Margo asked, forgoing all pleasantries.

Bennett studied her for a moment. “I understand that you’re angry because of what happened to your friend, and I’ll give you some latitude for that, but I’m not your enemy here. And I never lied to you—either directly or indirectly through William.

“When he met with you, he explained that I wanted the book for sentimental reasons. He was telling you the truth.”

“A man is dead; I think an explanation is the least of what you owe me.”

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“He was killed because of the book, though. Why is someone willing to kill for it? And why are you looking for it?”

“Eva Fuentes is my grandmother.”

There it was—confirmation of the piece that had been missing all along.

“My daughter is in college in the U.S. She and her friends took an interest in their ancestry. Some class they were taking. Blair decided to do one of those DNA tests that can tell you about your heritage. I discouraged her doing so because I didn’t think it was prudent to give out such personal information to one of those companies, but she stopped listening to what I suggest a long time ago. There were some surprises that came back—a connection to Cuba that we were previously unaware of and the fact that my daughter was related to a family we’d never heard of before.

“My wife became intrigued by the entire business and decided to have her testing done to see if she was the mystery, but it wasn’t her. It was my ancestry. I hired an investigator, began talking to family members, and then the truth came out. My mother was adopted. She never knew, died believing that my maternal grandparents were her parents.

“We learned that Eva Fuentes was her mother, my grandmother, as we traced the genealogy. My investigator researched everything he could about Eva’s life, and he learned that she had traveled to Harvard when she was a young teacher in Havana. He also discovered that she had published a novel— A Time for Forgetting .”

“And your grandfather? Did you find him?”

“I did. That was the easier piece of the puzzle. It came up when my daughter initially did the testing and started looking into our ancestry. My grandfather was James Webber.”

The name registered in the recesses of her mind, mentions that appeared in American history classes from long ago.

“He was a senator, wasn’t he?”

“He was. A senator from Massachusetts. He had a failed attempt at the presidency. He made his fortune in newspapers—well, perhaps I should say married his fortune in newspapers. His wife’s father had a newspaper in Boston. James was a young errand boy, essentially, when he wooed the boss’s daughter. When his father-in-law died, James took over the family business, which at that point had grown to twenty newspapers. This was right before the First World War. His influence only grew from there.”

“Did Eva know he was married? Did he take advantage of her?”

“I don’t know. Those are the parts that are missing. I have the facts, the genealogical data, but I don’t know what happened between them, what their lives were like.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know where my mother came from, where I come from. There are questions I desperately want to understand, and there is no one left to answer them.”

“Do you think he knew about you?” Margo asked. “Do you think that he knew that he had a daughter and a grandson out there?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t have any other children, at least not that we know of. His fortune was inherited by a nephew.”

“Do you think the nephew is the one hunting for the book?” Margo asked Bennett. “How old is he now?”

“No, the nephew died a few years ago. He has three children, though; I suppose any one of them could be after it. His estate must be worth over one hundred million dollars now.”

That was a number people would kill for.

This whole time they had wondered what it was about A Time for Forgetting that would make someone kill to obtain it. Maybe they had been focused on the wrong thing. Perhaps it wasn’t about the book, but rather about Eva’s life.

“Does the family know about your existence?” Margo asked him.

“I don’t know.” Bennett was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting between her and Luke. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do. My mother—my mother was a proud woman. Family was very important to her. She was close to her parents. She came from a time when you didn’t spread your personal business for all to see—if I go down this route, things will get very messy, very public. I don’t know that I want to put myself or my family through that.

“I didn’t inherit my wealth, Ms. Reynolds. I built it through my own hard work, property by property. I didn’t need my grandfather’s name to become successful, and I don’t know that I want it now. Especially if he was the sort of man who took advantage of my grandmother, who treated her abominably.”

“Do you think the book offers some evidence to the claim that James Webber fathered a child?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know anyone who has read the book.”

“When you started this investigation, did you have any idea that someone else was after the book?”

“I’d heard there was another interested party. I didn’t know who it was or why they wanted the book. That’s part of why I instructed William to impart the importance of discretion on you. I didn’t imagine they would kill for it, though.”

“Did someone who works for you break into my office? Did you hire someone to follow me?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Did you hire someone to follow my ex-husband?”

Bennett glanced once at Luke, his expression almost apologetic. “Yes.” He gestured toward Greer.

“So, you took the picture of Luke?” Margo asked Greer.

Greer nodded.

“How did you know to follow him?” Margo asked.

“Much like you did, he checked the auction houses because his client presumably heard that the book might be coming up for auction as well.” He shrugged. “I have a contact at one of the houses who tipped me off.”

“Did you hire me because of my connection to Luke?” she asked Bennett.

“Partly, yes. We called around and your reputation was good. It didn’t hurt, though, that your ex-husband was looking for the book. I thought the personal connection might be useful in terms of gathering information—at least more so than if it were a total stranger searching for it.”

“So, you had Greer send me the picture to what—try to reel me in when I threatened to quit?”

“William acted of his own accord. I don’t disagree that he chose to employ that method, but I didn’t suggest it, either.”

“Do you think one of James Webber’s relatives is searching for the book? Do you think they’re the ones behind my friend’s murder?”

Bennett hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know. It seems likely, though. If it isn’t one of them, then who is it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this when you hired me—about the book and your personal connection?” Margo asked. “Don’t you think I could have had a better chance of success if I’d received all of the necessary information to do my job?”

“I wasn’t ready for the secret about my mother’s parentage to get out. Besides, I was trying to find a book. At most, I thought it would be a mildly expensive endeavor. The private investigator I hired was very good at getting the information I wanted, but he didn’t have any experience with antiques or books.” Bennett sighed. “I am truly sorry for the trouble you have been through, and for the loss of your friend.

“I just want to know who my grandmother was. When I learned that she had published a book, it felt like a chance to be close to her for myself, for my daughter, for my mother’s memory. I know you don’t trust me, but if you’d consider staying on the case, I would happily increase your fee. The book—” He cleared his throat. “The book means a great deal to me. I can’t change the past, can’t make up for the fact that my mother never knew her birth family. I’ll never have a chance to meet my grandparents. But maybe this is a connection I can have with her, with my heritage, that my daughter can have.”

Her business was built on instinct. There wasn’t always a blueprint to follow, but instead she’d had to learn to trust her gut when making decisions. She wasn’t always right, but she’d learned enough along the way to feel more confident when it came time to make hard decisions.

She wished he had been more up-front with her from the beginning even if she understood why he hadn’t. But listening to his story now, she believed him. And just like so many of her clients, she wanted to help him.

Margo glanced at Luke for confirmation. He’d been quiet up until now, letting her take the lead since it was her client, but he seemed to read the unspoken question in her gaze.

He nodded.

“We found the family who had A Time for Forgetting in Cuba—” she began.