Chương 4
“And you didn’t believe him?”
“I did at first.”
“What changed?”
“An accountant called me.”
Lena asked, “Which accountant?”
“His name is Evan Mercer.”
“Whitmore employee?”
“Outside firm.”
“What did he say?”
“He thought I already knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That my name was attached to personal guarantees.”
I stood up so quickly the chair legs scraped the floor.
Emily flinched.
I sat back down.
“Your signature?”
“Some of them.”
“Some?”
“I recognized two.”
“And the others?”
She looked at her hands.
“I don’t remember signing them.”
Lena’s voice went quiet.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
I felt my pulse in my teeth.
“Seven personal guarantees you don’t remember signing?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Grant you had spoken to the accountant?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I wanted to see what he’d do.”
That answer sounded like me.
I hated that.
Lena said, “So today Grant asked you to sign a transfer of your shares.”
“Yes.”
“Did you refuse?”
“I asked to take the papers to my own lawyer.”
“And then?”
Emily laughed once, without humor.
“He asked why I needed my own lawyer when his family already paid six of them.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that sounded like an excellent reason.”
Despite everything, Lena’s mouth twitched.
I could see Carol in the line.
Emily continued.
“Grant got quiet.”
Her eyes moved toward the window.
“He doesn’t yell first.”
That sentence changed something in me.
“He gets very calm.”
She rubbed her thumb across the edge of the blanket.
“He asked who I had been talking to.”
I said nothing.
“I told him nobody.”
“He knew?”
“He said my mother had raised me to be suspicious.”
I frowned.
“Your mother?”
“Not you.”
The words came with strange emphasis.
“Why Carol?”
“I don’t know.”
Lena asked, “Exactly what did he say?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“He said, ‘Your mother had the same problem with loyalty.’”
I forgot to breathe for a second.
“What does that mean?”
“I asked him.”
“And?”
“He told me to sign.”
“What happened next?”
“I said no.”
Her voice shrank.
“Then he took my regular phone.”
“Did he hit you then?”
“No.”
“He went downstairs.”
“To get Margaret?”
“I think Margaret was already there.”
Emily looked uncertain.
“Richard arrived maybe twenty minutes later.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Grant call him?”
“I didn’t see.”
Lena tapped one finger against her folder.
“Who else knew you were refusing to sign?”
“The family attorney.”
“Name?”
“Charles Vane.”
I recognized it.
Not personally, but from billboards and newspaper photographs.
Vane represented developers, hospital boards, elected officials, anybody with enough money to prefer a problem handled quietly.
“Was he at the house?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I never saw him.”
“What about the person you thought was Richard?”
Emily frowned.
“It was Richard.”
“You saw his face?”
“Yes.”
“The cream shirt?”
“Yes.”
Lena glanced at me.
My partial glimpse now had a name.
Emily continued.
“Richard took Grant into the study.”
“How long?”
“Five minutes.”
“And then?”
“They came back.”
She stopped.
I waited.
“Grant put the papers in front of me again.”
“And Richard?”
“He stood behind him.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“What did he say?”
“He said families survive because people know when not to make a temporary problem permanent.”
Lena’s expression did not change, but I had worked beside her long enough to know when she disliked a sentence.
Emily gave a tired shrug.
“I asked whether the temporary problem was the debt or their son.”
“What happened?”
“Margaret told me not to be vulgar.”
I stared at her.
“That was her response?”
Emily almost smiled.
“You’ve met Margaret.”
Unfortunately, I had.
Margaret Whitmore could turn cruelty into etiquette without raising her voice.
At Emily’s wedding, she had informed Carol that our family’s table assignments were “more intimate” because Whitmore business associates required proximity to the stage.
Carol had smiled and told her intimacy was wonderful because it made leaving early easier.
I had loved her so much in that moment that it embarrassed me.
The memory faded when Emily shifted and grimaced.
“Then Grant grabbed my arm.”
“First physical contact today?”
“Yes.”
“Where was everyone?”
“Margaret near the fireplace.”
“Richard?”
“By the dining room doors.”
“Rosa?”
“In the kitchen.”
“What happened next?”
“I pulled away.”
Emily’s breathing began to speed again.
“He grabbed me harder.”
I looked at the bruising around her wrist.
“I told him to stop.”
Her eyes fixed on some point beyond us.
“He said I was embarrassing him.”
Lena said, “Take your time.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
She wanted through it now.
“I shoved the papers onto the floor.”
She swallowed.
“Grant slapped me.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“He had hit me before, but never with his parents watching.”
She looked at me.
“That was the part that scared me.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody reacted.”
The room went quiet.
“Margaret looked annoyed.”
Emily’s voice trembled.
“Not shocked.”
She pressed her fingertips together.
“Richard told Grant, ‘Enough.’”
I heard the difference immediately.
Not stop.
Enough.
“How many times before?” I asked.
Emily looked at me.
“Dad.”
“How many?”
Lena turned toward me.
“Daniel.”
I stood.
This time I walked to the window.
Parking-lot lights shone across rows of cars.
A man in pajama pants was smoking beside a pickup despite three NO SMOKING signs.
I wanted a number because numbers behaved.
Numbers could be entered into reports.
Numbers did not look at you from a hospital bed and ask why you had missed them.
Behind me, Emily said, “I stopped counting.”
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.
No one spoke.
Finally, I turned around.
“I’m sorry.”
Emily watched me.
“I keep saying that.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll probably keep saying it.”
“I know.”
“I don’t expect it to fix anything.”
Her face softened by one degree.
“That helps.”
Lena waited before continuing.
“After the slap?”
“I tried to leave.”
“Through the front door?”
“Yes.”
“Grant blocked me.”
“The bat?”
“Not yet.”
“He shoved me back toward the dining room.”
May you like
“And you fell?”
“Not then.”
