Part 8
She wiped the wrong cheek.
“The other side.”
She wiped again.
“Got it.”
The lie was harmless. Graham saw Nathan make the decision not to correct her.
Emma climbed into bed and pulled the quilt to her chin. Nathan sat on the edge. Graham remained by the window.
For a while, no one mentioned the bracelet.
Emma looked at her father’s sweater.
“Did you sleep on the plane?”
“A little.”
“You smell like the plane.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Planes smell like cold pretzels.”
Nathan smiled despite himself. “That is strangely accurate.”
“I don’t like the warm towels.”
“On planes?”
“They’re wet.”
“They are.”
“Why do people act like they’re fancy?”
Nathan considered.
“Adults are easy to impress when they’re tired.”
Emma accepted this.
She turned the locket between her fingers. Nathan noticed the chain pressing against her neck.
“Can I see that?”
She released it reluctantly.
He opened the oval. Inside was a tiny photograph of Laura holding Emma when she was a baby. The picture had been cut from a larger one, leaving only half of Laura’s shoulder and a strip of summer sky.
“You still wear it every day?” Nathan asked.
“Except swimming.”
“Good.”
“Mrs. Hale said it looks childish with nice dresses.”
Nathan’s thumb stopped against the edge.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“Before dinner.”
“Was she angry?”
“She was getting ready.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Emma watched him.
Graham felt the echo of her earlier correction.
Nathan heard it too.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m asking too many questions.”
“I don’t know when people are angry,” Emma whispered. “Sometimes they look normal.”
Nathan closed the locket and laid it against the white collar of her pajama top.
“You do not have to take it off for anyone.”
“Even if it looks childish?”
“Especially then.”
She thought about that.
“Did Mom wear it?”
“It was hers when she was your age.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do.”
“You told me six times.”
“Have I?”
“Grandpa told me four.”
Graham lifted one hand. “I deny the exact number.”
Emma’s mouth curved, though the smile did not last.
“Did Mrs. Hale steal the money?”
Nathan glanced at Graham.
“We don’t know everything yet.”
“Did she lie about the bracelet?”
“Yes.”
The directness surprised Graham.
Emma’s eyes lowered.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it because of the paper?”
“I think it might have been.”
“Is Margaret going to jail?”
“No one is going to jail tonight.”
The answer was careful enough that Emma heard the space inside it.
“What about tomorrow?”
Nathan drew in a breath.
Graham intervened.
“Tomorrow, people are going to tell the truth. After that, they will have to live with it.”
Emma looked at him. “That sounds worse.”
“It often is.”
Nathan gave his father a weary glance.
Graham shrugged. “She asked.”
Emma sank farther into the pillow.
“I didn’t steal anything.”
Nathan placed his hand over hers.
“I know.”
This time, she believed him quickly enough to close her eyes.
They stayed until her breathing deepened. Even then, Nathan did not move for several minutes. He sat with one hand resting on the quilt, careful not to wake her, while Graham watched the snow erase the last tire tracks outside.
When they returned downstairs, Victoria had changed.
The red dress was gone. She wore black trousers and a cream sweater, her hair released from its low bun and brushed to her shoulders. The transformation made her look younger and less armored. It also made the open suitcase beside the sofa impossible to misunderstand.
Margaret sat at the dining table with her laptop open. The jewelry box had not moved.
Nathan stopped at the bottom stair.
“I said no one leaves with files or devices.”
“I am not taking foundation property,” Victoria said.
“What is in the suitcase?”
“Clothes.”
“Where are you going?”
“The guesthouse.”
Graham removed his overcoat and laid it across a chair.
“You ordered Emma there an hour ago.”
Victoria looked at him. “I am giving you what you wanted.”
“I wanted you not to accuse her.”
“You wanted Nathan to choose.”
Nathan walked into the room.
“This is not about choosing between you and my daughter.”
“It always is with children.”
The sentence sounded as though it came from experience, not philosophy. Graham studied her.
Victoria had no children of her own. She had been engaged once before Nathan, years earlier, and rarely spoke about it. Graham knew only that the relationship ended after her fiancé moved back to Boston to help raise his sister’s son. At the time, Victoria had described the decision as a surrender to chaos.
Nathan looked at the suitcase.
“Stay in the west suite.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
“No. But the guesthouse internet is separate, and I don’t want you claiming later that you lacked access to records.”
Victoria stared at him.
“You have already decided I’m guilty.”
“I have decided you lied about Emma.”
“She was in my room.”
“Because you sent her.”
“I said I may have asked her to look for programs.”
“You denied it until Margaret spoke.”
“I was being attacked from every side.”
Nathan shook his head.
Victoria’s voice changed. It lost the brittle authority and became tired.
“You have no idea what this year has been.”
“Then tell me.”
“I kept the foundation functioning while you chased acquisitions in three countries. I dealt with donors, permits, staff, your father’s objections, the lodge renovation, the winter program, Margaret’s mistakes, and a board that wants growth without accepting risk.”
“Did you send the money to West Ridge?”
“Yes.”
Margaret stopped typing.
Nathan looked at Victoria.
The admission entered quietly, almost hidden by the fire.
“For what?” he asked.
“A property option.”
“You said the land was under negotiation.”
“It is.”
“Who owns West Ridge?”
“A consultant.”
“Name.”
Victoria hesitated.
“Evan Calder.”
Nathan looked at Margaret.
She shook her head.
“Have you met him?” Nathan asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Denver.”
“When?”
May you like
“In September.”
“Why is the company registered to a condominium owned by your brother?”
