Chương 6
Mom noticed.
“I taught second grade for thirty-one years.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You learn quickly that if somebody hits somebody else, you write it down before all six children develop six different versions.”
Daniel almost smiled.
Mom did not.
“I’m not pressing charges tonight because I’m angry enough that I don’t trust my own reasons.”
Dad reached for her hand.
She let him take it.
“That doesn’t mean I’m pretending it didn’t happen.”
“No one expects you to,” Daniel said.
Mom looked at him.
“Your mother does.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“She’s going to call this an accident tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“And eventually she’ll call it a misunderstanding.”
Daniel said nothing.
Mom nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
My phone buzzed against the table.
The screen showed twelve new notifications.
Then fourteen.
Daniel’s buzzed almost immediately afterward.
We looked at each other.
I picked mine up first.
Three texts were from coworkers asking whether I was okay.
Two were from numbers I did not recognize.
One was from my cousin Rachel.
CALL ME BEFORE YOU OPEN INSTAGRAM.
My stomach dropped.
“Dad.”
He saw my face.
“What?”
I opened the app.
A video had already been posted from somewhere across the dining room.
It did not show Linda throwing the wine.
The recording began afterward.
Mom was standing with my jacket around her.
Linda’s voice came through clearly enough despite the restaurant noise.
She was saying, “You should understand something before you destroy your future over one ugly evening.”
The caption read: Rich Chicago family threatens waitress after engagement dinner disaster.
Daniel leaned over my shoulder.
“Oh, no.”
The account had more than sixty thousand followers.
The clip had been online eleven minutes.
Comments were arriving faster than I could read them.
Somebody had already identified Bellamy’s.
Someone else had written Linda’s name.
Another commenter had identified Daniel’s employer.
My father held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
I did.
He read for less than thirty seconds.
Then he looked toward Marcus, who was speaking with a hostess near the entrance.
“Marcus.”
Marcus came over.
Dad handed him the phone.
“Find out who was sitting in that sight line.”
Marcus watched the clip once.
“Table eighteen or nineteen.”
“Do we have names?”
“Reservations, yes.”
“Don’t contact anyone yet.”
Marcus nodded.
Mom leaned toward him.
“Why not?”
Dad answered.
“Because asking somebody to remove a video can become another video.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It is.”
Mom sank back in her chair.
“I hate the internet.”
“You say that every time you forget your password.”
“This is a stronger reason.”
Daniel was reading something on his phone now.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward me.
A text from Linda filled most of it.
Do not answer anyone about tonight.
Your father’s firm could be damaged if this gets twisted.
Call me privately.
Below it, another message appeared.
Daniel, I am serious.
I read both twice.
“Your father’s firm.”
Daniel nodded.
“Not her reputation.”
Dad took his phone from the table.
“What kind of business does Howard’s company do?”
“Commercial real estate.”
“I know that.”
Daniel looked at him.
Dad’s voice remained even.
“What kind of commercial real estate?”
“Office properties, some retail, property management.”
“Clients?”
“I don’t know all of them.”
Dad unlocked his phone.
“Does Whitmore Commercial handle any Bellamy Hospitality leases?”
Daniel blinked.
“I have no idea.”
I stared at Dad.
“Do they?”
He did not answer immediately.
That was unusual.
“Dad.”
“We have a management agreement in one building they represent.”
“One?”
“Two, possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“I don’t personally review every property company on every operating entity.”
Mom gave him a sideways look.
“See, this is why normal people have one job.”
Dad ignored her.
He was already scrolling.
Daniel’s face had gone pale.
“What does that mean?”
“Probably nothing tonight.”
“Probably?”
Dad stopped scrolling.
“It means your mother may know that our businesses overlap.”
I thought about her final warning.
Families remember humiliation.
A prickling sensation moved across my shoulders.
“She knew?”
Dad’s mouth flattened.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel shook his head.
“She couldn’t have known Emily was your daughter.”
“She might not have.”
“Then why would it matter?”
Dad looked at him.
“Because your mother may not have been threatening Emily.”
Nobody spoke.
My phone continued vibrating against the table.
Mom was the first to say it.
“She was threatening Richard.”
Dad looked toward the front windows.
Outside, headlights moved along the street, white and red smearing across the glass.
Daniel’s phone rang.
Linda.
He declined it.
It rang again.
He declined it again.
The third time, Howard’s name appeared.
Daniel answered immediately.
“Dad?”
Howard spoke loudly enough that I heard panic but not words.
Daniel stood.
“Slow down.”
Dad’s attention sharpened.
“What happened?”
Daniel held up one finger.
“Where are you?”
More muffled words came through.
Then Daniel’s face emptied.
“What do you mean she took the car?”
He turned toward the front windows.
“Dad, where are you right now?”
Mom pushed her chair back.
Daniel listened.
“Stay there.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
He stared at his phone.
“My mother left him on the sidewalk.”
Despite everything, Mom whispered, “Of course she did.”
Daniel did not laugh.
“She said she had to fix something.”
Dad and I looked at each other.
“Did Howard say where she was going?” Dad asked.
“No.”
Daniel’s phone buzzed.
He read the incoming text.
His breathing changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward us.
It was from Linda.
I gave you a chance to handle this privately.
Now I will.
Dad read it without touching the phone.
Then he looked at Marcus.
“Pull tonight’s access logs for the administrative offices.”
Marcus frowned.
“Why?”
“My office, accounting, event planning, everything.”
I stared at him.
“Dad, what are you thinking?”
He reached for his jacket from the empty chair beside him.
“I’m thinking Linda knows more about my companies than she should.”
Daniel shook his head.
May you like
“She doesn’t have access to anything.”
Dad put on the jacket.
