Chương 4
Gavin said paste was an ambitious breakfast.
I reminded Mia to chew.
Nobody mentioned Camila.
Nobody mentioned the board.
Nobody mentioned the firebox sitting upstairs.
After Mia left with our neighbor for school, Gavin put his cup in the sink.
“You have until nine.”
“I know.”
“Arthur is prepared to treat the call as a personal misconduct issue if the financial allegations can be contained.”
“How do you know?”
His pause was tiny.
“Because I spoke to him.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
I had known Arthur Bell casually for years.
He had attended our wedding and sent Mia an absurdly large stuffed giraffe when she was born.
I picked up my phone.
“I’ll ask him.”
Gavin’s hand closed around mine.
Not violently.
Firmly.
“Don’t.”
There it was again.
Fear.
Not fear of divorce.
Not fear of humiliation.
Something narrower.
I pulled my hand free.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He stared at the counter.
“The company is going through a sensitive period.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if people start throwing accusations around, innocent employees could lose jobs.”
“You were joking about buying your assistant a Porsche with company money.”
“I was showing off.”
“For Camila?”
He looked annoyed.
“For people on the call.”
“You forgot they were there.”
“Before that.”
The explanation made no sense, and both of us knew it.
My phone rang.
The caller ID showed a New York number I did not recognize.
Gavin looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“Don’t answer that.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke with a low, measured voice.
“May I speak with Nora Vance?”
“This is Nora.”
“My name is Margaret Sloan.”
Gavin went completely still.
“I believe,” she continued, “you opened your father’s firebox last night.”
I looked at Gavin.
His coffee cup slipped from his fingers and struck the countertop without breaking.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because at six fourteen this morning, someone attempted to access the Vance Family Trust’s secure records using credentials associated with your husband.”
Gavin backed away from the island.
Margaret paused.
“And because, Mrs. Prescott, this was not the first time.”
I kept the phone against my ear and watched Gavin decide whether to lie.
He chose silence first.
Margaret did not rush to fill it.
“Mrs. Prescott,” she said, “are you somewhere you can speak privately?”
“No.”
Gavin’s eyes lifted to mine.
“Then I suggest you do not discuss account numbers, trust instruments, or historical access logs.”
“Margaret,” Gavin said loudly enough for the phone to catch him.
She stopped.
He stepped closer.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
Her voice changed by half a degree.
“Mr. Prescott.”
“Someone must have used an old credential.”
“At six fourteen this morning?”
“Yes.”
“From your home network?”
His mouth opened.
I felt something inside me settle.
It was not certainty about what he had done.
It was certainty that he had done something.
I walked toward the back door.
Gavin followed.
“Nora.”
I held up one finger.
Outside, the patio stones were still wet from the night before.
A delivery truck groaned somewhere on the next block.
I closed the door behind me.
“I’m alone now.”
Margaret exhaled softly.
“Your father asked me to create an alert if anyone connected to Gavin Prescott attempted to access the trust after his death.”
I sat on the edge of the patio chair.
“He expected this?”
“He was concerned.”
“About Gavin?”
“Yes.”
“How concerned?”
“He changed several procedures because of him.”
The kitchen door opened behind me.
I turned.
Gavin stood there.
“Go inside,” I said.
He laughed once.
“Nora, this is my house too.”
Margaret heard him.
“I can have counsel call you from a secure line,” she said.
“No.”
I looked at Gavin.
“I want him to hear this part.”
He folded his arms.
“Fine.”
I put the phone on speaker and laid it on the table between us.
Margaret continued.
“Approximately eighteen months before your father died, Mr. Prescott contacted one of the trust’s outside accountants and requested information about Summit Crest voting control.”
Gavin shook his head immediately.
“I was researching shareholder concentration for work.”
“You identified yourself as acting on behalf of your wife,” Margaret said.
He stopped shaking his head.
I looked at him.
He looked at the patio instead.
Margaret went on.
“The accountant refused the request and notified your father.”
“I never signed anything pretending to be Nora.”
“I did not say you signed anything.”
“That’s what you’re implying.”
“No, Mr. Prescott.”
Her tone remained almost maddeningly calm.
“I am stating what our records show.”
He walked away from the table, then turned back.
“You’re making this sound criminal.”
“I am not making a criminal determination.”
“Convenient.”
“Gavin,” I said.
He ignored me.
“You people have always treated me like some gold digger who married into a family fortune that didn’t even exist.”
I almost answered.
Then I realized what he had said.
Margaret did too.
The silence was immediate.
Gavin’s face changed.
I stood.
“What family fortune?”
He looked at me.
“Nora.”
“You told me my father left practically nothing.”
“He did leave practically nothing personally.”
“That isn’t what you just said.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I knew he had investments.”
“How much did you know?”
“Not much.”
“Enough to contact his accountants?”
“For work.”
“You used my name.”
“I said I was your husband.”
“Margaret just said you claimed to be acting for me.”
He turned toward the lawn.
A sprinkler clicked on two houses down and began throwing water in bright arcs over already soaked grass.
The ordinariness of it made me angry.
Someone was watering a lawn while my marriage changed shape ten feet from my kitchen.
Margaret spoke again.
“Nora, I think we should meet today.”
“Yes.”
Gavin spun around.
“No.”
I looked at him.
He seemed surprised by his own volume.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re emotional.”
“I’m having coffee on my patio.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, explain it.”
His jaw tightened.
May you like
“You don’t understand these documents.”
“Then Margaret can explain them.”
