Chương 2
Several things did.
The seating chart Samantha had refused to show me.
Greg asking whether I intended to stay in the farmhouse during the wedding weekend.
His mother, Elaine, suggesting during dinner that I might enjoy “a little spa getaway” while everyone was in town.
The way Samantha had changed the subject when I asked where I would sit during the reception.
Clues did not always arrive looking like clues.
Sometimes they were simply moments you had been too hopeful to examine.
I opened my laptop.
The banking page required a verification code.
My phone buzzed with Samantha’s name before the code arrived.
I declined the call.
The screen immediately lit up again.
This time it was Greg.
I let it ring.
A text from Samantha appeared.
Please don’t be dramatic.
I read it twice.
Then I laughed.
It was not a happy laugh.
It was the short involuntary sound you make when something becomes so absurd that anger cannot process it quickly enough.
The final wedding payments were scheduled for noon.
There were six of them.
The largest was just over sixty thousand dollars for catering and rentals.
The smallest was twelve thousand for musicians.
Together, the remaining balance exceeded one hundred eighty thousand dollars.
I had agreed to cover it because Samantha said she did not want Greg beginning their marriage worried about money.
That sentence looked different now too.
I called my bank.
The representative transferred me twice before a supervisor came on.
I explained that I wanted to stop several scheduled transfers that had not yet been processed.
She verified the transactions one by one.
“May I ask whether you believe these payments are fraudulent?”
“No.”
“Then I need to note that these are customer-requested cancellations.”
“That’s fine.”
“There may be contractual penalties owed directly to the vendors.”
“I understand.”
The word had become useful that morning.
By eleven seventeen, every pending transfer I could legally stop had been stopped.
I did not feel victorious.
Mostly, I felt tired.
Then I called my attorney, Michael Levin.
Michael had represented Thomas and me for twenty-three years and had the dry, patient voice of a man who expected nearly every human problem to become paperwork eventually.
“I need you to look at the deed documents for the stone house.”
There was a pause.
“The transfer to Samantha?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you signed the gift agreement last week.”
“I signed documents.”
“You sound unhappy about having done that.”
“I am.”
“That isn’t usually enough to undo a transfer.”
“I know.”
“Has the deed recorded?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll check.”
“Please do.”
He hesitated.
“Andrea, is Samantha in trouble?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Are you?”
I looked through the study window toward the stone house.
Its slate roof was visible between two sycamores along the creek.
Thomas had restored that house himself in stages over fifteen years.
He replaced rotted beams, rebuilt the chimney, and spent one entire winter swearing at the upstairs plumbing.
After he died, I could not enter the place for nearly a year.
Eventually I renovated it because Samantha loved it.
I had convinced myself giving it to her would turn grief into something useful.
“No,” I told Michael.
“I think I’m simply done pretending not to notice things.”
“I’ll call you back.”
My next call was to Ben.
He answered with machinery roaring in the background.
“Give me a second.”
The noise faded.
“All right, what’s up?”
Ben Alvarez had managed the property for eleven years.
He was fifty-three, broad-shouldered, perpetually sunburned, and incapable of pretending not to have an opinion.
“I need the private entrance code changed.”
He said nothing.
“The one by the stone house?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Today.”
Another silence.
Then, carefully, “Does Samantha know?”
“No.”
“And Greg?”
“No.”
Ben exhaled through his nose.
“I’m guessing I shouldn’t ask.”
“That would be wise.”
“Fine.”
I could hear him moving, probably walking away from whichever tractor had been running.
“What about the wedding vendors?”
“They’re not coming onto the property.”
This time he stopped completely.
“Andrea.”
“I know.”
“The tent crew is scheduled tomorrow morning.”
“I know.”
“The catering trucks start staging Friday.”
“I know that too.”
He lowered his voice.
“Did the wedding get canceled?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does not exactly mean?”
“It means the wedding may still exist, but it won’t happen here.”
Ben was quiet for several seconds.
Then he said, “Do you want me at the house?”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that right before doing something that makes lawyers expensive.”
“My lawyer is already involved.”
“Of course he is.”
There was affection beneath the irritation.
Ben had been one of the people who stood beside me at Thomas’s funeral when I forgot nearly everything said to me.
He had also been the first person to tell me six months later that grief did not excuse my treating employees like idiots.
I trusted him because he did not confuse loyalty with agreement.
“Change the code,” I said.
“And call a locksmith for the stone house.”
He went silent again.
“That house belongs to Samantha now, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“That sounds like a lawyer problem.”
“It is.”
“I’ll hold off on the locks until you know.”
That was why Ben managed the property and I did not hire one of the agreeable men Greg kept recommending.
“Good.”
“But I can change the gate code because the gate is yours.”
“Yes.”
“And vendors?”
“Turn them away.”
“That is going to become a circus.”
“I expect so.”
“Want security?”
“Not yet.”
“All right.”
He paused.
“Andrea?”
“Yes?”
“Eat something.”
I glanced at the clock and discovered it was almost noon.
“I had coffee.”
“That is not food.”
“You sound like Thomas.”
“Thomas had better sense than you.”
“He also put mayonnaise on hot dogs.”
“That was between him and God.”
May you like
I laughed again, and this time the sound did not hurt quite as much.
After we hung up, I made a piece of toast and stood over the sink eating it.
