Part 3The Canary Who Became Doctor

Sebastian told me to pack slowly. A driver would take me from the estate the next morning.

That night, I meticulously packed five years’ worth of jewelry, gold bars, and luxury watches into a small suitcase. The rest—clothes, shoes, memories—were worthless. I left them behind.

Seattle’s weather is schizophrenic.

Last night it was snowing; this morning, it was freezing rain. The sleet hit the windows like handfuls of gravel.

The driver called, sounding apologetic.

"Miss Hazel, Miss Madeleine is landing today. She’s frail and hates the cold, so we’ve taken all the cars to the airport to greet her. You’ll have to get down the mountain on your own."

I hung up and looked out the window.

When I first started seeing Sebastian, I didn't understand him.

Once, after a gala, it was pouring rain. I thought he had left already, so I covered my head with my clutch and ran to the curb to hail a cab.

But Sebastian came back. He stepped out of the shadows and pulled me under a massive black umbrella. His handmade Italian suit got soaked instantly, but not a drop touched my silk dress.

He told me he hadn't left; he’d just gone to get the umbrella.

A gentleman never lets a lady get wet.

Since then, no matter how busy he was, or what country he was in, there was always an umbrella waiting for me. He never missed a beat.

The memory faded. I smiled a thin, dry smile and pulled my suitcase into the downpour.

The rain was heavy.

But it was time to go.

I couldn't spend my whole life waiting for someone else to hold the umbrella.