Chương 7
I listened to him through the open stairwell until he left.
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was Aunt Denise.
I answered.
“Hey.”
“Your father is making everybody insane.”
“That sounds healthy and familiar.”
“He wants to drive to Mark’s office.”
I sat upright.
“Do not let him.”
“I told him that.”
“Tell him again.”
“He says there may be documents there with his name on them.”
“That is exactly why he should stay away.”
“I know.”
“Where is he?”
“At the vineyard.”
“Is anyone with him?”
“Your mother.”
“That may not help.”
“I am also here, thank you.”
“That helps slightly.”
Denise snorted.
Then her voice lowered.
“There are reporters.”
“What?”
“Two local stations and some online guy with a microphone.”
“How did they get there?”
“An arrest at a luxury wedding venue is apparently irresistible.”
I closed my eyes.
“Has anyone talked to them?”
“Your cousin Mike almost did.”
“Why?”
“He thought he could explain.”
“Mike cannot explain how to parallel park.”
“I stopped him.”
“Thank you.”
Denise paused.
“Your father keeps saying he is a victim.”
“He may be.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I don’t know enough.”
“He says Mark forged things.”
“Maybe he did.”
“He also says he never authorized a loan against the house.”
I looked toward the hallway where Claire had disappeared.
“Did Mom say the same?”
Denise hesitated.
“No.”
That one word changed the temperature of the conversation.
“What did she say?”
“She said the documents were complicated.”
“Did she sign them?”
“She won’t answer.”
I leaned back slowly.
“Okay.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means stop discussing it in a group.”
“Emma.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Denise sighed.
“I hate this.”
“So do I.”
“I know your mother was awful to you.”
The waiting room suddenly felt too small.
“Denise.”
“No, listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“She is scared.”
“That does not erase anything.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
I looked at the mountain photograph across from me.
The lake was perfectly still.
No people.
No boats.
No problems visible from the frame.
“She thinks the house is gone,” Denise continued.
“It may be.”
“She keeps saying your grandmother’s piano is in there.”
I rubbed my forehead.
My mother had inherited that piano when Grandma died.
Nobody played it.
Mom dusted it every Thursday.
Once, when I was nine, I had scratched one leg while moving a chair and lied about it for three days.
The memory arrived so clearly I could see the small white mark in the dark wood.
“I can’t fix that,” I said.
“I know.”
Another pause.
“Do you?”
The question irritated me because it was fair.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Denise lowered her voice further.
“Your father doesn’t.”
I heard voices behind her.
Then Dad’s voice, distant and angry.
“Who are you talking to?”
Denise muttered, “Here we go.”
“Don’t tell him where Claire is.”
“He knows she went to a lawyer.”
“Not which one.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire gets to decide who speaks for her.”
Dad’s voice came closer.
“Is that Emma?”
Denise covered the phone badly.
“No.”
I nearly smiled.
Dad said, “That is obviously Emma.”
“Good luck,” I whispered.
Denise hung up.
Twenty minutes later, Maya came into the waiting room alone.
“Emma.”
I stood.
“Is Claire okay?”
“She is upset.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Maya studied me.
“She is functioning.”
“Did she ask for me?”
“She asked whether you could join us for one limited purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“There are several documents she recalls signing that she does not understand.”
“That sounds like something you need to review.”
“It is.”
Maya folded her arms.
“She says you may recognize whether Mark presented them to your parents too.”
I hesitated.
Rachel’s warning returned immediately.
Do not become your sister’s investigator.
“I don’t want to contaminate anything.”
“Good.”
Maya nodded once.
“That is why I am setting boundaries.”
She stepped aside.
“You can come in, answer only what I ask, and leave when I tell you.”
“That sounds welcoming.”
“I am not running a spa.”
For the first time that morning, I smiled without feeling guilty.
Claire sat at a conference table with a box of tissues near her elbow and a legal pad covered in Maya’s handwriting.
Her coffee was gone.
She looked at me as I entered.
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
Maya raised a hand.
“I’ll ask.”
I sat across from Claire.
Maya remained standing.
“Claire says that approximately four months ago, Mark brought documents to a family dinner at your parents’ home.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Yes.”
“You were present?”
“For part of it.”
“What did you see?”
“A stack of papers in blue folders.”
“Did you read them?”
“No.”
“Did you hear how Mark described them?”
I searched my memory.
Dad had been opening a bottle of wine.
Mom had complained that the salmon was drying out.
Claire and Mark had arrived late.
“Estate planning,” I said.
Claire nodded quickly.
“That’s what he called it.”
Maya looked at me.
“Anything more specific?”
“He said he was simplifying beneficiary structures.”
Claire stared at the table.
Maya asked, “Did your parents sign?”
“I left before they finished.”
“Why?”
I looked at Claire.
She looked back.
Because that was the dinner where Mark had accused me of undermining him.
Because Dad had told me I embarrassed the family by treating every meal like an interrogation.
Because Claire had said maybe I should stop coming if I could not be happy for anyone.
“I was asked to leave.”
Maya’s expression did not change.
Claire’s did.
She whispered, “I forgot that was the same night.”
“I didn’t.”
Maya sat down.
“Claire says she signed a document that evening too.”
My eyes moved to her.
“What did Mark say it was?”
“A spousal authorization.”
“You weren’t spouses.”
“I said that.”
“And?”
“He laughed.”
Claire swallowed.
“He said it was easier to prepare everything before the wedding.”
Maya slid a blank sheet of paper toward her.
“Did you keep a copy?”
“No.”
May you like
“Did you receive one electronically?”
“I don’t think so.”
