The Other Half

By Lisa Dewald

Elizabeth Stevenson found herself for the second time in her life— all alone. In one fell swoop, she found herself divorced, living in a new city, a new home, and a new job. The last thing on her mind was falling in love. Facing her future with many unanswered questions, her past begins to haunt her in ways and levels that she never imagined possible. Between the choices we made yesterday and today... define the life we live in the future. But will Elizabeth be able to embrace her past in time before she loses her future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sands Press
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781990066184

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was the fifth time in the last two weeks that Elizabeth Stevenson had found herself awake at three in the morning. She stood in the dimly lit kitchen leaning against the cooking island, eating a late-night snack of honey on toast. She stared out to the dark living room, where she still had many boxes to unpack. Shaking her head, she took another bite and sighed. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror that hung on the opposite side of the kitchen. Her curvy 5’5 medium frame was hidden under her old Bruins jersey. Her shoulder-length brown hair tussled from her restless sleep. She tried to come to terms with how she ended up here; thirty-five and divorced. Her life had become unrecognizable these past few months. One moment she was happily married for six years, in Worcester Massachusetts, and working at The Hartford Courant. She was living a blessed life and she knew it. Then like most of the things in her life, a single moment changed everything.

Now that the dust had finally settled, Elizabeth found herself living in Boston, and in a matter of two weeks she would be working at The Boston Globe; her dream job. She seemingly had everything she had ever wanted. She just had to lose almost everything to get it. It was a series of events that she still didn’t completely understand. She thought back to that horrible night in January at Angelo’s, where she saw her life as she knew it come to an end. But to be honest, everything had changed for her long before that. With a single phone call, the direction of the life she thought she was going to have… took a massive detour.

It was the year she was graduating from high school. She had graduated at the top of her class and was heading to Yale on a full scholarship for journalism. She had everything all planned out. After graduating from Yale, she would pay her dues and work her ass off, so that in seven years she would be living in a century home in Boston and be writing for The Boston Globe. That was the dream. Everything she had done since junior high was about making that dream a reality.

It was late June and Elizabeth was getting everything ready for her move to New Haven. She was marking on her Yale events calendar which weekends she would come home to visit with her parents, which ones to take off for road trips to Boston, and the events she wanted to attend on campus.

Ever since her parents had taken her to Boston when she was nine, she’d had a love affair with the city. It was a dream of hers to one day call Boston home. With New Haven being only a hundred and twenty miles away, there would be many, many road trips in her future. It was only a two-hour drive if she drove the speed limit—and an hour and a half if she didn’t.

She was once again going over her welcome package from Yale when a late-night phone call irrevocably changed her life. Her parents had been in a car accident. They’d been struck by a drunk driver going the wrong way on a one-way street. It was the worst night of her life, and it was still all a hazy memory to this day. Her memories were reduced to just flashes of the hospital, her parents, and the unbelievable pain.

When Elizabeth arrived at the hospital, she assumed she’d find them in the ICU. But when the doctor brought her into that little room, far away from everyone, she knew that something was horribly wrong. She never fully recovered from having to go to the morgue instead of a hospital room. It was an all-encompassing pain that had still not gone away. Her father had suffered a massive heart attack from the shock of the accident and died at the scene. Her mother had died in surgery. The doctor had told her that the internal injuries were just too catastrophic. Despite all their efforts, they could not save her, and she died. The memory of how her parents had looked was forever etched in her memory. It wasn’t that their faces were scarred. Actually, for having been in a car accident, their faces were miraculously unmarred. At viewings, the deceased have make-up on them and they somewhat resemble what they looked like in life. But in that morgue, with its harsh lighting. Her parents didn’t at all look like themselves. It was the fact they were so pale and without color or light. There was no peaceful look on their faces—it was just—nothingness.

The man that took her parents’ lives, died in a coma three days later, and with his death, she had no one to yell at, and no one to ask why. The pain at times was all so overwhelming that she seriously thought of quitting everything in her life. School, the family restaurant, and her friends. Every morning she woke up to that pain and all she wanted to do was hide. For the first few days after their funeral, all she could do was lay on the bathroom floor. She couldn’t eat, sleep, or breathe. She was numb all over. No matter how many times she said it, she could not accept that her parents were gone. She was trapped in this never-ending nightmare that she would never be able to wake up from. Several times she had picked up the phone to call Yale to withdraw, but she could never finish dialing the number. The thought of all the years her parents worked and sacrificed to get her to where she was; convinced her otherwise. She had a full scholarship to Yale. Never had she seen so much love and pride in her parents’ eyes as when the acceptance letter had come to the house. Her father framed it and put it in his office. To not go would be a dishonor to all that that they had done for her.

Even though she was still overwhelmed by her grief, she knew that Yale was too important to her parents and herself to give up on. She knew they would never have forgiven her if she abandoned her dreams; she had to move on to Yale.

She knew of a corporation that had inquired about buying the restaurant last year, so she rang the family lawyer and sought his advice. After a few weeks of bartering, she sold the business to them for more than they were originally offering. Then it was with an extremely heavy heart that she sold the family home. With that and the settlement from the car accident, financially speaking, she would never have to want for anything. When she started school, she arranged with the bank to issue her a bi-weekly allowance, and she then invested the bulk of the money so that, come graduation, she would be able to buy a home outright and have a healthy nest egg for her retirement. She was relieved that for her, money was never going to be an issue. But she would have traded every cent of it for just one more day with her parents.

The one thing that gave her some small sense of comfort was that she had spent her parents’ last night with them. She went to that memory often. Her father had brought home a large pizza from work and they’d watched movies and talked about the future she was going to have. The next day they were heading off to meet some friends at the beach for the afternoon. Her dad hugged her and said that he could not wait to brag to his friends about her going to Yale on full scholarship—yet again. He always had a playful competition with his friends on how their kids were doing.

You have always known how to make me bust my buttons with pride, he whispered to her in the middle of his bear hug. That was something he had always said, and they would be the last words he’d ever say to her.

It was very difficult to sell the furniture that she grew up with. So many memories were attached to everything. It was not just a dining room set to her. It was the Castle of Dreams. When Elizabeth was a child, she and her parents would turn the dining room table, buffet, and chairs into a fantasy world. With sheets draped over everything, they had a private wonder world that was all their own. It was there that they all dreamed of the life she would have. Being a fairy princess, a ballerina, a veterinarian, and then, of course, a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist. But all those dreams had her parents in them; she didn’t know how to dream without them. It was like cutting out her heart having to sell the furniture to strangers. But there was no other choice; she had no idea what or where she would land after graduation. Storage for four or more years and transportation to God-knows-where would have cost her a tiny fortune. It took an estate sale, and three weekends of yard sales to sell everything she wouldn’t need. The rest she left on the curb on a Friday night and by the Sunday morning, everything was gone.

Elizabeth took one last walk through her house. Her footsteps seemed to echo the same emptiness that was in her heart. In every corner, she saw a ghost of her past. Memories of running down the stairs as a child, Christmases by the tree in the living room, all the great conversations she’d had with her parents around the kitchen table, and the empty space where The Castle of Dreams once stood. She stood in the archway of the living room and looked around with tears in her eyes, trying to come to terms with how a split second can change your life. Opening that acceptance letter, in March, she had everything she had ever wanted. Then, with a single phone call in June, she had lost everything she had ever known. There was no anchor now to keep her steady; she was adrift.

The first few months at school had been the most difficult. She was still a child in so many ways, and now she was alone in the world. She did have relatives around the country but none that she could call on. They were what she called holiday family. They only kept in contact via greeting cards. After the funeral they all went back home and back to their own lives, none sincerely inquiring on what she would be doing next. They just wished her the best at Yale, to be strong, and call them over the holidays.

The pain was so big she could not wrap her arms around it. Elizabeth threw herself into her studies and tried to not let herself think about anything else. There were no trips to Boston for that first year. She could barely bring herself to go out to any of the social events for freshmen. If she wasn’t studying or working at the campus bar, the Gryphon's Pub, she was putting in overtime at the newspaper. At The Yale Daily News, there were always a million jobs that no one wanted to do. She did most of the fact-checking and researching for everyone. She did anything and everything to keep her mind distracted. Even though she had no official title as a freshman, she was far more important to the paper than any job title. She became a reliable constant presence; Gal Friday to the whole staff. Even the editor-in-chief himself would seek out her opinion on things. That was her life. School, work, and the paper.

Then one December night during her sophomore year, there was a knock at her dorm room door. It was a knock that turned everything around. He was Richard Michael Hartwell IV. He was a 6'1, blonde, blue-eyed golden boy of Yale. You knew just by looking at him that he was bound for greatness, he had that air about him. You couldn’t help but be drawn to his magnetic personality. He casually leaned on the doorway with that sly smile of his. No one could ever resist that charismatic smile, not even some of his professors. He was fiercely intelligent, funny, athletic, and mercilessly charming. Richard instantly knew how to talk to you, so that you could not say no to him. He could read people so easily. His reputation on campus was legendary. He was the president of the Alpha Delta Phi fraternity, with whispers of his involvement with The Scroll and Key Society, a secret club for Yale’s most elite students and future masters of the universe. He was also treasurer of several charity committees and the president of the Yale Debate Association. Richard came from old money, but he never had the arrogance of his friends. He was a regular at the Gryphon's Pub. He always left her a generous tip, while his friends would treat her with that extra bit of classist entitlement.

It was during mid-terms that they first really spoke to each other, beyond just taking his order. He was studying alone at a booth. It was one of those slow nights and she had to struggle to keep herself busy by wiping down the tables. She looked at the clock and noted that he had been studying for the past three hours. She had to admit that she admired his dedication. She was clearing the table next to him when he spoke to her.

You’re Elizabeth, right? You live on the first floor of my residence? he asked with a charming smile.

Wow, you own the residence too? Here I thought it was just the library, she quipped, referring to the newly opened, Hartwell History Wing in the north quad library.

You are quick, very quick, he lightly laughed. I mean, we live in the same residence, don’t we?

Yes, we do. I’ve seen you in the hallways as well.

You couldn’t help but notice him, he was always holding court with his friends and quasi followers no matter where he went.

Richard, he smiled, holding out his hand.

Elizabeth dried her hand on a towel and shook his with a guarded smile. She was slightly amused that he had introduced himself to her so formally.

Big test coming up? Elizabeth pointed to the large pile of books and notes in front of him.

Yes, The Murdock Killer, he replied ruefully, looking at the awesome number of books that he still needed to get to.

I’ve heard about that test. Isn’t it supposed to be insanely difficult? Something like sixty percent failure rate?

That’s the one. But I am determined to get at the very least a B on that test, he pledged.

Then the rumor is true? If you do pass, it’s never higher than a C.

So, the rumor goes, he laughed. Murdock does love his footnote questions.

Well, you’ve been at it for hours now, why don’t I get you something to eat. Iced tea is not going to cut it. You’re going to need your strength for studying.

Thanks, I would like that, he smiled. He only then realized that he was quite hungry.

Elizabeth came back shortly with a cheeseburger, fries, and a beer. Here you go. Take a break and eat. Give the old brain a breather.

Thanks, he smiled, pushing his books to the side. So why are you working here? I thought you were on full scholarship, he said, eating a few fries.

Scholarship only goes so far. I also need my own money for the little things and to keep myself busy, she lied with a smile. There was no need to tell him that it was her way of hiding from the pain.

Keeping yourself busy? You have a full-time study load at one of the toughest academic universities in America and I see you at the paper anytime I walk by. There is time to play, too, you know.

True, she conceded. What can I say? I’m just a young college co-ed, trying to make her way in the world, she joked.

I have to say, I admire you, Richard said, becoming rather serious.

Elizabeth was taken aback. She wasn’t expecting him to say that. She wasn’t even sure that she heard him correctly. Admire me? she repeated.

Yes. You got a full scholarship. Yale does not give those out lightly … and I heard about how you lost your parents. He paused thoughtfully. That must have been a rough time for you. I can’t even imagine going through something that. Unlike some people, you actually earned your way here.

Some people? she repeated questioningly.

Like me or my friends. We are all legacies of some kind, with family members that are on boards—or donate a history wing or two. He grinned, arching his brows.

Elizabeth remembered her zinger from earlier. She blushed and turned her eyes to the floor. She looked up at him, and he gave her a wink of forgiveness.

Hey, Stevenson, clock-out. I can’t afford to pay you any more overtime! her boss jokingly called out to her.

You got it Jorge! she called back, then turning to Richard, Well, I am done for the night. You take care.

Thanks again for the food break. It will give me a second wind for sure. How much do I owe you? he asked reaching for his wallet.

Shhhhhh! I put it under my employee dinner plan. It’s on me, she whispered, with a smile.

Thanks, he smiled in return. Richard was truly taken aback by her kindness. This was the first time anyone had bought him a meal without a string attached.

My pleasure. Who knows? I may need some legal advice someday in the future. Might as well make connections, now, right? she teased with a playful wink. Good luck with The Murdock Killer, I’m sure you’ll get that B.

Elizabeth started to leave.

Hey LizzieB, he called out.

She stopped and looked back at him. No one had ever called her that before—and she liked it.

See you around? He smiled confidently.

Yeah, see you around, she smiled with a nod.

Richard watched her walk away—and had to admit he was intrigued.

Three weeks later Elizabeth was on shift again when Richard came into the bar on the shoulders of several friends, all in full celebration mode. He was wearing a T-shirt given to him by Professor Murdock that read; I killed The Murdock Killer. He had gotten an A, and with that, the Hartwell name shined a little brighter on the Yale campus; yet again. He looked right at her and grinned.

After that, they nodded to each other a few times across the quad or at the bar. They never spoke more than hello or hey there. But now he was knocking on her door. He had stopped by to borrow some coffee since he was pulling an all-nighter for his winter exams. Somehow, it had gone from borrowing a cup of coffee to going out for coffee. They walked around the near-empty campus lost in conversation and each other.

Chapter 2

In the beginning, Elizabeth was suspicious of his intentions. She assumed it was just a game to him. His flirtations seemed to be so odd and out of place. Richard literally could have any girl at school, and face it, he pretty much had. The fact that he wanted her for more than a good time was hard for Elizabeth to accept at face value. It was not that she did not think of herself as good enough for him. It was just that she did not fit his usual type. He dated mostly sorority girls and socialites that were connected to his world. To say that they did not run in the same social circles was an understatement. Although when he pursued her, it was hard to resist his charm. For a time, he was always hanging around the hallway of her dorm room, sitting in her section at the pub, or stopping at the paper, just chatting it up with the writing staff. Always claiming it was a coincidence—and then asking her out. But Elizabeth always found a reasonable reason to say no.

Then one sunny Saturday morning in February, she was woken by the sound of knocking at her window. She pulled the curtain back and was surprised to see Richard’s shivering smile.

Richard? Are you crazy? It’s freezing out there, she exclaimed, feeling the chill of the wind as she opened her window. She shuddered, grabbing her blanket and wrapping it around herself.

Well since I have not been able to get past your front door, I thought I’d try a different approach, he grinned. Extra large Amaretto Coffee, one sugar, two milk, he said handing her the cup. Fresh multi-grain bagel, toasted with cream cheese and jalapeño jelly from Dana’s Bakery. His face showed unwavering confidence as he handed her the still warm paper bag.

My weekend breakfast, she said, a little astonished, if not a little impressed that he’d found out about her breakfast routine. You are relentless, she smiled.

Only when there is something I want, then I will let nothing stand in my way, he said flashing her a sexy look.

Not even, no? she bantered.

No is simply a starting point from which to negotiate, he countered. Richard could tell by her expression that he had finally won her over. So, why don’t I bookend your day with your favorite dinner. Is six good for you? he asked, already knowing the answer.

And my favorite dinner would be? she countered, wondering how well he had done his homework.

General Tso Chicken from Mein Garden—not China Sea—theirs is not nearly as rich-tasting nor has the spicy kick you like. Too much vinegar, he replied crinkling his nose.

He smiled at her so incredibly seductively, Elizabeth could feel her heart skip a beat. Damn, he was good. She was amazed that he had gone through such an effort just for a date. She leaned out the window and kissed him on the cheek.

Make it six-thirty, she said, closing her window and curling up on the bed with her breakfast. From outside, she heard Richard’s triumphant yawp. She smiled to herself wondering what the hell she had she just said yes to?

The evening was perfect. They spent five hours at dinner just talking and laughing. It was only when the waitstaff started to put the chairs up on the tables that they realized how late it was.

Wow, it’s almost midnight already. Where did the time go? she asked.

Well, I have closed many bars in my life, but never a restaurant, he laughed. Does that mean I am growing up?

Oh, I am sure you’ll close a few more bars before that officially happens, she reassured him.

They walked hand in hand in the quiet courtyards of Yale to their residence. There was something so comforting in holding his hand.

I had an amazing night LizzieB, he smiled down at her. Can I see you again? He asked so confidently that it almost sounded rhetorical.

Yes, you can.

They could both feel the chemistry; it was palpable even in the cold night air. Elizabeth opened her dorm room door slightly and turned back to look up at him. She leaned her back against the doorframe and he hovered over her with a boyish smile.

Thanks again for a wonderful evening, she said.

I’ll call you tomorrow around two. We can go for coffee or something, he suggested, slowly moving in closer to her.

That sounds great, she replied, anticipating his kiss.

Richard took her face into his hands and brought her up to his lips. He lightly kissed her upper lip, her lower lip, and then fully on her mouth. It was soft and passionate. Elizabeth put her hands on his shoulders and melted into his kisses, then gently pulled back and gazed up at him.

Night.

Night LizzieB, he responded, with a lingering look.

After he left, Elizabeth leaned on the closed door in her dorm room. She smiled as she touched her still tingling lips with her fingertips.

What a kiss, she whispered.

From then on they became inseparable, everyone was whispering that the most eligible bachelor on campus was officially off the market.

Elizabeth was not naïve; she knew that they were from different universes, let alone worlds. He grew up around politicians, powerful business people, and the elite of Connecticut and New England society. She was pretty sure that he’d had dinner once or twice with the Kennedy family. She tried not to let it distract her too much because that was mostly about his father, grandfather, and even his great-grandfather. Richard was number four in the long line of Richard Michaels. His family was highly respected and maybe even a little bit feared. At times he was just along for the ride, but he always knew the weight of the family name rested squarely on his shoulders as the first-born son. At times, he quipped it was more of a birthmark than a birthright. He knew that one day he would be the head of the family, and lead partner at the law firm of Hartwell, Jacobs & Wilbur in Boston. It was a destiny he’d known from birth.

Elizabeth’s family, on the other hand, were just her parents and herself. Her uncle and two aunts lived out of state with their families—the holiday family.

Where the Hartwells had a long history in the New England states, and it was hard not to see their influences everywhere, the only history she had was that her family had once owned and operated a fast-food-type family restaurant - Raleigh St Diner. It was successful, in popularity with their loyal customers. It always made enough money to pay the bills and, in some quarters, there was a little extra for savings. But it was a hand-to-mouth existence. It was clean and had great food, but still, it was fast food. Definitely, not the fine dining that the Hartwell