Chương 12
"I thought you knew."
"No."
Caroline went quiet.
Kevin felt anger rise, then recognized the familiar shape beneath it.
Someone else knew something about his children before he did.
Again.
"Kevin?"
"I'm here."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"That's clearly false."
He looked down at the restoration record.
A.H.
1894.
Interior inscription.
Claire carrying away a folded scrap of paper nobody else had seen.
"Did Claire ever talk to you about family records?"
Caroline paused.
"Whose family?"
"Hers."
"Not really."
"Genealogy?"
"She got into that for a while."
"So you remember."
"I remember her making fun of your side because Uncle Peter married his second cousin."
"Third cousin."
"Still not great."
"Did she ever mention an old portrait?"
"No."
"A miniature?"
"No."
"Initials A.H.?"
Caroline went silent.
Kevin straightened.
"What?"
"I don't know."
"That wasn't nothing."
"I said I don't know."
"Caroline."
She exhaled.
"Claire asked me something weird last winter."
"What?"
"If Mom had ever told us about a woman named Abigail."
Kevin stopped breathing for a beat.
"Abigail who?"
"She didn't say."
"When?"
"December, maybe."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it was a five-minute conversation about a name I didn't recognize."
"What exactly did she ask?"
Caroline sounded irritated now.
"I don't have a transcript."
"Try."
"She asked whether Mom or Grandma had ever mentioned Abigail."
"And you said?"
"No."
"Then?"
"Then Claire changed the subject."
Kevin closed his eyes.
"Was she upset?"
"Not obviously."
"Did she say why she was asking?"
"No."
"Anything else?"
Caroline hesitated again.
This time Kevin waited.
Finally she said, "She asked whether Dad ever kept anything in the old safe at the lake house."
Kevin opened his eyes.
"What old safe?"
"The wall safe in the study."
"I didn't know there was one."
"I barely remembered it until she asked."
"How did Claire know?"
"I assumed you told her."
"I didn't."
A bus passed, briefly swallowing the sound between them.
Caroline's voice came back smaller.
"Kevin, what is this?"
He looked at the gallery building.
"I don't know."
"That is becoming a theme."
"Apparently."
"Are you going to the lake house?"
Kevin looked at the time.
He thought of the board waiting.
Of Martin covering for him.
Of Oliver asking him not to make Annie leave.
Of Annie telling him staying only worked if he stayed too.
"No," he said.
Caroline sounded surprised.
"No?"
"Not today."
"What changed?"
Kevin looked toward the car.
"For once, I have somewhere more important to be."
He ended the call.
At eleven forty-two, he walked back through his own front door instead of entering the conference room downtown.
Mrs. Bell looked up from a vase of cut hydrangeas in the front hall.
"You are home."
"So it appears."
She checked the clock.
"Before lunch."
"I can read clocks."
"Evidence has been inconsistent."
Kevin took off his jacket.
"Where are the boys?"
"Preschool."
"Annie?"
Mrs. Bell's hands paused among the flowers.
"In the laundry room."
Kevin looked toward the back corridor.
Mrs. Bell added, "She has not accepted the other position."
"I didn't ask."
"No."
He started away.
"Mr. Hart."
Kevin stopped.
Mrs. Bell adjusted one blue flower until it sat exactly where she wanted it.
"Do not make another mess simply because you have decided to clean up the first one."
Kevin looked at her.
"Is everyone in this house waiting to criticize me?"
"No."
She stepped back from the vase.
"Some of us have schedules."
Kevin looked at the flowers, then at Mrs. Bell.
"That would be appreciated."
He left her with the hydrangeas and followed the back corridor toward the service wing.
The laundry room door stood open.
Annie was at the long folding table sorting children's clothes into two uneven piles.
A pair of Oliver's socks sat in one stack.
A shirt with a dinosaur on it sat in another.
Kevin stopped in the doorway.
Annie did not look up immediately.
"You came home."
"So I've been told."
She folded a small pair of pajama bottoms.
"Did the board survive?"
"Barely."
"Tragic."
Kevin leaned one shoulder against the frame.
"I went to a gallery."
That got her attention.
She looked up.
He held out the restoration record.
"This came in Claire's mail."
Annie wiped her hands against her apron before taking it.
Her eyes moved over the page.
Kevin watched her expression.
Nothing changed until she reached the note about the interior inscription.
"What is it?"
"A miniature portrait."
"Of Claire?"
"No."
He hesitated.
"It looks like her."
Annie looked up again.
"How much?"
"Enough to be uncomfortable."
She handed the paper back.
"Who is the woman?"
"I don't know."
"And Claire did?"
"I don't know that either."
Annie resumed folding.
Kevin remained where he was.
"You're remarkably calm."
"You went to a gallery and found an old portrait."
"With initials."
"Most portraits have people in them."
He stared at her.
Annie glanced over.
"That was a joke."
"I recognized the structure."
"Good."
Kevin stepped inside.
"Claire had asked the gallery about something hidden behind the backing."
Annie stopped folding.
"There was a piece of paper."
"What did it say?"
"Nobody knows."
"Nobody?"
"Claire took it."
"Then she knew."
Kevin looked at the dryer turning slowly behind its glass door.
"Something."
The machine thumped once as a towel shifted.
Annie set the folded clothes aside.
"Why are you telling me?"
Kevin considered that.
He could have said because she was there.
Because Mrs. Bell had already formed opinions.
Because Caroline would turn the conversation into a family investigation before Kevin had decided whether one existed.
Instead he said, "I wanted to."
Annie held his gaze.
The room smelled faintly of detergent and warm cotton.
Kevin felt suddenly foolish standing in a laundry room discussing nineteenth-century miniatures with a woman whose employment he had nearly ended an hour earlier.
He looked at the piles.
"Are those separated by child?"
"Yes."
"How can you tell?"
"Oliver's clothes are usually folded."
"Noah's aren't?"
"Noah believes drawers are baskets with walls."
May you like
Kevin almost smiled.
Then Annie's face became more serious.
