Chương 10
“I can call her desk.”
“Please.”
She picked up the phone.
No answer.
My stomach tightened.
“Could you try her cell?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“I’m her sister.”
“I understand.”
“She might be in trouble.”
That changed the woman’s expression.
“What kind of trouble?”
“I’m not sure.”
It sounded ridiculous aloud.
The receptionist studied me.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Let me check with her manager.”
She disappeared through a badge-controlled door.
I stood beneath a television playing a muted financial-news channel.
A man in a navy suit came out carrying a salad and glanced at me before heading toward the elevators.
Two minutes passed.
Then three.
I checked my phone.
Nothing from Jenna.
The receptionist returned with a woman in her forties wearing a green blouse and an employee badge.
“Are you Lillian?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Rachel, Jenna’s director.”
My pulse jumped.
“Is she here?”
Rachel’s expression became careful.
“She left about an hour ago.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No.”
“She just left?”
“She told her assistant she wasn’t feeling well.”
I gripped my phone.
“Was she upset?”
Rachel glanced toward the receptionist.
“Can we talk over here?”
We stepped toward a seating area beside the windows.
Rachel sat.
I remained standing.
“She’s been under a lot of pressure,” Rachel said.
“At work?”
“Some.”
“What does some mean?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
I heard myself and softened my voice.
“Sorry.”
Rachel folded her hands.
“There were changes to the compensation structure.”
“I know about that.”
She looked surprised.
“And Jenna took it hard.”
“Because of the money?”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
Rachel hesitated.
“We had a client complaint.”
My stomach dropped.
“What kind?”
“Nothing criminal.”
She said it quickly.
“A documentation issue.”
“What did Jenna do?”
Rachel looked uncomfortable.
“I really shouldn’t discuss personnel matters.”
“Then why are you telling me any of this?”
“Because you said she may be in trouble.”
The answer silenced me.
Rachel continued.
“She wasn’t herself this morning.”
“What happened?”
“She missed a meeting.”
“Jenna doesn’t miss meetings.”
“I know.”
“What did she say?”
“She apologized.”
That sounded even worse.
I sat down.
Rachel lowered her voice.
“Then she went into her office and closed the door.”
“Did anyone check on her?”
“Yes.”
“She was crying.”
My sister crying at work seemed more alarming than almost anything Evan had said.
“What happened with the client complaint?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Did she get fired?”
“No.”
“Was she going to?”
“I can’t answer that.”
Which was close enough.
My phone rang.
Evan.
I answered immediately.
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
“I’m at her house.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“She left something for me.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“What?”
“A box.”
I closed my eyes.
“Evan.”
“It’s just my stuff.”
His voice sounded strained.
“Clothes, books, some papers.”
“That’s good.”
“There’s also a letter.”
Rachel was watching me now.
“What kind of letter?”
“I haven’t opened it.”
“Why not?”
“Because my name isn’t on it.”
My mouth went dry.
“Whose is?”
He paused.
“Yours.”
The elevator ride down took forever.
I called Jenna three more times while walking to my car.
Nothing.
Evan stayed on the line.
“I can bring it to you.”
“No.”
“Lil.”
“Read the envelope.”
“What?”
“Is there anything else written on it?”
Paper rustled.
“Just your name.”
“In her handwriting?”
“Yes.”
I reached the car.
“Open it.”
“It’s sealed.”
“I’m telling you to open it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
More rustling.
I sat behind the wheel without starting the engine.
Evan unfolded the paper.
For several seconds he said nothing.
“What does it say?”
His breath caught.
“Evan.”
“It says, Lil, I’m sorry.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“Keep reading.”
“I’m not sure I should.”
“Read it.”
His voice changed.
“She says, I’m sorry I made everything between us a contest.”
I shut my eyes.
“She says, I don’t know when I started needing you to lose so I could feel okay, but I think it was long before Dad died.”
My chest hurt.
“Keep going.”
“She says, I know this looks dramatic.”
A broken laugh escaped him.
“That sounds like her.”
“What else?”
He swallowed.
“She says, I’m not doing anything stupid.”
Air came back into my lungs so fast it hurt.
I bent forward over the steering wheel.
Evan kept reading.
“She says, I just need to disappear for a day before Mom turns this into a committee meeting.”
I laughed once, shakily.
Rachel had followed me outside and now stood several feet away, watching.
“What else?”
“She says she left her work phone at home.”
“Of course she did.”
“And she says not to look for her.”
I straightened.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
“What?”
Evan went quiet.
“She says the house keys are in the kitchen drawer.”
I stared through the windshield.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Read the rest.”
“There isn’t much.”
Paper shifted in his hand.
“She says, Tell Evan I’m sorry about the chairs.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Then Evan whispered, “God.”
“What?”
“There’s one more line.”
I waited.
“She says, Lil will understand why I went there.”
My fear returned instantly.
“Went where?”
“She doesn’t say.”
I stared at the dashboard.
Lil will understand.
I wanted to scream.
Instead I forced myself to sit still.
Jenna was not a puzzle.
She was not leaving clues for entertainment.
If she believed I would understand, then whatever she meant had to belong to something we shared.
Dad.
My mind went there immediately.
The cemetery.
October rain.
Blue hydrangeas.
The ugliest day of both our lives.
I started the car.
“Evan.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I know where she is.”
The drive to Ardmore took twenty-four minutes.
I did not call Mom.
I did not call Jenna again.
I drove.
The rain had stopped, but the cemetery roads were still wet.
Bare branches reflected darkly in shallow puddles along the curb.
May you like
I parked near the section where Dad was buried and saw Jenna’s silver SUV before I saw her.
She was sitting on the ground beside his grave with her back against the granite marker.
