Fallen Elements (2 page)

Leah looked at the woman and child, and shook
her head. “All good things, right?”

“And no good deed.” Ryan shook her head as
she walked down the narrow aisle.
Damn my Good Samaritan leaning
tendencies.

For the next two hours, Ryan managed a fitful
sleep. The jarring back and forth of the train, along with the
incessant crying of the teething child she had abandoned Leah with,
didn’t allow for much more than short cat naps.

When the train rolled to a stop in New York,
Ryan waited in her seat for the aisle to clear before venturing
back to retrieve her bag and coat. She was disappointed to find
Leah’s seat empty, and the blue American Tourist bag gone.

Ryan pulled her coat and scarf down, along
with her bag. She disembarked the train just before the passengers
bound for Boston began clambering on. New York was even colder than
Baltimore, and she quickly put her coat, gloves and scarf on right
there on the train platform.

Retrieving her phone from the back pocket of
her jeans, she scrolled through her contact list as she walked
toward the Penn Station terminal.

“Myers-Howland residence.” A woman’s voice
answered.

“May I speak to Lucy, please?” Ryan walked
through the Amtrak concourse, and toward the escalators that would
take her up to the 7th street exit.

“Who is calling, please?” The woman
asked.

“Her niece.” Ryan’s bag caught on the
escalator step, and she nearly fell backwards before pulling it
free. Standing to the right on the escalator, she took several deep
breaths to steady her nerves.

“Ryan? Are you already here? I texted you for
your flight information, and I thought I told you I would send the
car.” Lucy Myers-Howland’s voice had a slight nasal quality, as if
she had a perpetual cold.

“I took the train.” A blast of cold air
slapped Ryan in the face as she emerged from the escalator and
walked onto the busy New York street.

“Why would you do that?” Lucy seemed more
tense than Ryan remembered, but considering the circumstances, she
could hardly be blamed.

“It was cheaper.” Ryan sighed, already
exhausted. “I’m catching a cab, and will be there in a half hour or
so, depending on traffic.”

There was a long pause. “Okay. I’ll let the
staff know to expect you.”

The line went dead, and Ryan slid her phone
back into her pants pocket. She found the taxi stand, was quickly
placed in a cab and whisked through the busy city streets. Her
driver wore a Dastar turban, and had barely paused his phone
conversation when Ryan had given him the address to her aunt’s
house.

Lucy and Derek Howland lived with their two
adult children, Andrew and Carol, in a four story townhouse that
had been built in 1927 by Ryan’s great grandfather, Addison Myers.
The house was located on the tony Upper East Side of Manhattan in
the middle of the Lenox Hill neighborhood, near the corner of 5th
Avenue and East 72nd Street.

The building sat nestled along a tree lined
block across from Central Park, with a roof top deck and a rear
yard Ryan remembered fondly from her youth. She had not necessarily
appreciated it at the time, but now she knew how rare outdoor space
was in a crowded city.

Twenty minutes and twelve dollars later, Ryan
stood in front of her aunt’s house. A late winter storm had left
bright white snow blanketing portions of the broad sidewalk and the
decorative foliage that was strategically placed in front of the
residences. The swamp oaks that lined the street were bare for the
winter. Looking up at the row of opulent houses, Ryan suddenly felt
very small.

“Here - we - go.” Ryan lifted her bag, and
walked up the broad concrete steps to the house. The outer oak
doors were large, with elaborate stain glass panels inlaid in the
upper sections. The glass was a series of geometric shapes in dark
green, blue and red. When Ryan was a child, the design had reminded
her of mountains, with a lake surrounding them along with a vast
blue sky overhead.

Ryan pressed the brass doorbell button to the
right of the doors, and a moment later a woman in her late thirties
opened the door. The woman was dressed in a gray housekeeper’s
uniform, with her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“May I help you?” The woman’s voice was
flat.

Ryan put her bag down, and extended her hand.
“Hi. I’m Ryan Myers. My aunt is expecting me.”

The woman’s over plucked brow arched as she
looked at Ryan’s outstretched hand. After hesitating, she accepted
the greeting with a faint smile. “Mrs. Myers-Howland mentioned you
were coming. I’m Natalie.”

The woman reached for Ryan’s bag, but stopped
when Ryan quickly grabbed it. “Don’t worry about it. I can manage.”
Ryan smiled reassuringly at the woman.

Walking into the foyer of the house, Ryan was
immediately taken back to her childhood. The scent of roses and
lavender filled the space, and the dark maple wood floors shone to
the point you thought you might slip on them. The pine wood
paneling that lined the walls was accented with brass Tiffany lamps
that ran throughout the house, the glass pattern of their shades
matching the one on the front door. The ceiling on the first floor
was high, with white decorative tin tiles, each embossed with an
intricate wreath pattern.

“May I show you to your room? You can freshen
up before seeing your family.” Natalie gestured toward the wide
staircase to the left of the foyer.

Ryan looked down at herself. She was wearing
a pair of brown, lace-up snow boots, faded blue jeans, a long
sleeve gray Gap t-shirt, and her pea coat and scarf. She had
stashed her gloves in her coat pockets when she first walked
in.

“I’m fine. Just point me in the right
direction, and I’ll get settled.” Ryan walked past Natalie without
waiting for her response. Given the confused expression on the
housekeeper’s face, though, Ryan knew she had committed a faux
pas.

“Second door to your left, ma’am. I was told
it was your room when you lived here.” Natalie stammered.

“Thanks.” Ryan trotted up the stairs with her
suitcase. Rounding the corner to her room, she heard footsteps from
down the hall and stopped.

“Hey there, cuz.” Andrew Howland was thirty
years old, four years older than Ryan. He was a heavy set man whose
brown hair was already thinning, and regardless of the time of
year, he always had a pasty complexion.

“Hi, Andrew. Long time.” Ryan put her bag
down as her cousin approached her.

“I heard you were coming.” Andrew had a
folded copy of the
Wall Street Journal
in his hand that he
laid down on the banister before wrapping his arms around Ryan.
“You’re looking well.”

Ryan had never cared for her cousin. His hugs
lasted too long, and he always appeared to have a slightly
lascivious expression on his face. He had been a vindictive child
growing up, and though she hadn’t interacted with him regularly in
over six years, she couldn’t imagine his temperament had improved.
He was thoroughly entrenched in the lifestyle and perceived
privilege the Myers’ family wealth afforded him.

The man leaned away from a stiff Ryan, and
put his hand on her shoulder. “I am so sorry about your mother.” He
began kneading Ryan’s shoulder, and even through her coat, his
touch made her squeamish.

“Thanks.” Ryan stepped back, nearly falling
over her suitcase. “I’m going to put my stuff in the room, and then
I’ll be down.”

Andrew feigned a concerned expression as Ryan
grabbed her bag and disappeared down the hall. Once safely in the
room, Ryan shuddered as she took her coat off, tossing it on the
massive bed in the center of the room. The space was nearly as
large as her Baltimore row house.
He’s still a jackass.

Like the rest of the house, the bedroom was
designed in a traditional style with dark woods throughout the
space. Ryan wondered if her family had ever met a claw footed table
or wing-backed chair they didn’t like.

There was a light knock on the door, and Ryan
took a deep breath, bracing herself for what lay ahead.

“Ryan! I’m so glad you’re here.” Carol
Howland rushed into the room, pulling Ryan into a warm embrace.

The two women had kept in touch since Ryan
left New York. Carol had even managed to visit Ryan in Baltimore
several times. Still, it had been over a year since she had seen
Carol, and Ryan genuinely missed her cousin.

The two women had grown up together, and had
often found trouble together. Ryan grinned, remembering the time
she and Carol were suspended from the Birch Wathen Lenox school for
smoking in the girls’ locker room.

Still holding Carol’s hand, Ryan smiled and
took a step back. “Your Facebook photos don’t do you justice. You
look wonderful.” The woman was a few inches shorter than Ryan with
a lean build, chestnut shoulder length hair, and smooth alabaster
skin. Two years in braces when she was fourteen had afforded her a
beautifully straight, full smile.

Carol blushed. “You too. I’m just sorry we’re
seeing each other again like this.”

Ryan felt her stomach sour. Since finding out
two days ago that her mother had died, Ryan had very little time to
contemplate how she felt about the untimely death of a woman she
hadn’t seen in over six years.

“Me too. How are you holding up?” Ryan pulled
Carol across the room, and the two women sat on the small loveseat
in front of the lit fireplace.

Carol looked down at the floor. “My mother is
beside herself with the planning. You know Lucy - everything has
its place, and perception, perception, perception.”

Ryan did know her aunt. Though they had been
close when she was younger, Lucy made no secret of the fact her
priorities were always what was best for the Myers’ name. The
individual was frequently lost in her aunt’s calculations.

Lucy’s pride was not without merit. The
Myers’ genealogy could be traced back to the Mayflower, and their
ancestors who traveled on it - Isaac Allerton and his wife
Remembrance. Regardless, Ryan had always found Lucy’s blind
reverence to family, and her zealous protection of it,
disconcerting.

“Where is Lucy?” Ryan wanted to get the
initial awkwardness of seeing her aunt for the first time in years
over with. Her head was pounding just with the thought of it.

“She’s upstairs in her office, ordering
enough flowers to start a nursery.” Carol took Ryan’s hand in hers.
“Is this terrible for you?”

Ryan leaned back on the sofa. “Yes. I hadn’t
talked to my mother in years, and to get your call that she had
died -” The woman’s breath caught. It was the first time she had
said that her mother was dead. “It was a shock.”

Ryan looked down at where her and her
cousin’s hands were joined, and then, taking a deep breath,
released the woman’s hand and stood. She knew eventually the regret
of letting her and her mother’s relationship implode would catch up
with her, and she dreaded it.

“I’m sorry, Ryan.” Carol’s voice broke as she
stood and hugged the woman.

Ryan was grateful for the comfort. She didn’t
know how the next few days would unfold, but she felt fortunate
that Carol would be there with her.

Ryan made her way through the third level of
the house toward her aunt’s study. The house was enormous by New
York standards, and she remembered getting lost down its many halls
and rooms as a child.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Natalie’s voice came
from behind Ryan as she stood outside the door to Lucy’s study.

Spinning around, Ryan was startled. “Ah, no.
I’m just going to talk to my aunt.”

Natalie looked at the large oak door, and
then back at Ryan. “She prefers if you knock.”

Ryan hesitated, and then slowly nodded.
“Thanks.”

Waiting for Natalie to leave, Ryan turned
back around, her hand hovering over the door.
Christ, just
knock.
She had stood outside this door on more than one
occasion as a child, waiting for her aunt to summon her. Carol,
Andrew, and Ryan were forbidden to go into the room without an
adult.

“There are things in my study that are none
of your business, and you wouldn’t understand them anyway.” Lucy
had chided Ryan and Carol after finding them hiding under her desk
with several antique books strewn around them.

“But Mom, why can’t we look at the books?”
Carol had insisted, her eight year old voice verging on a
whine.

“Because I said so, and I’m the adult and the
authority.” Lucy had looked down at her daughter, the tension in
her voice making it clear she was cross with being challenged.

Now, remembering the sternness in her aunt’s
voice, Ryan took a deep breath, and knocked. The thickness of the
door muffled her rapping.

“Come in.” A man’s voice Ryan recognized as
her uncle Derek’s responded from the other side of the door.

Ryan turned the brass door knob and slowly
opened the door. The study ran the entire length of the townhouse
along the backside of the third floor. It was originally servants’
quarters that Ryan’s grandfather had converted into a large
library. Lucy had claimed the space as her study shortly after her
father died.

The room was lined with floor to ceiling
mahogany bookshelves, and the floor was a series of maple and
mahogany inlays in a star pattern throughout the room. The Myers
family had always put particular emphasis on education. To that
end, the library was full of first edition and rare books from all
over the world. It wasn’t uncommon to find several of the Myers’
treasures on loan at any of the countless museums throughout New
York City.

“Ryan.” Lucy got up from behind a large dark
maple French Regency style desk, her arms outstretched as she
walked toward her niece.

Lucy Myers-Howland was two years older than
Ryan’s mother had been. But unlike Karen, who had had dark hair and
an olive tone to her skin, Lucy had dark blonde hair, with pale
skin. She was 5’6”, and her hair was always immaculately styled and
trimmed to just above her shoulders. Regardless of the time of day,
the woman was always dressed like she was going to a high end
restaurant.