Chương 8
“That seems normal.”
“She also requested that your parents’ arrival not be photographed.”
Mom stared at me.
Daniel’s face drained.
“Why?”
Jasmine hesitated.
“She said there were family sensitivities.”
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“What else?”
“The original sweetheart table was changed to a raised family table.”
“I never approved that.”
“She sent an email saying you had.”
My hands went cold.
“From her account?”
“Yes.”
Dad looked at me.
“Keep going.”
Jasmine’s voice lowered.
“She also asked us to remove your employment information from the couple biography used for the welcome display.”
Daniel stood again.
“What?”
“She said the wording was outdated.”
“What did she replace it with?”
“Emily Hayes works in hospitality and community outreach.”
I stared at the table.
Mom muttered something that sounded extremely unlike a retired elementary school teacher.
Daniel rubbed both hands down his face.
“This is insane.”
Jasmine said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
I heard myself say it, but part of me was not sure I believed it.
Dad took the phone off speaker.
“Jasmine, I need you to preserve the entire account history tonight.”
He listened.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Do not make changes, do not delete anything, and do not contact Linda Whitmore.”
He ended the call.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Mom said, “She was erasing us.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Patricia.”
“She was.”
Her voice had gone quiet again.
“She couldn’t stop the wedding, so she was cleaning the edges.”
I stared down at my ring.
Months of tiny irritations rearranged themselves into something uglier.
The supposedly accidental typo that listed my father as Richard Hays without the e.
The missing photo of my parents from the engagement slideshow.
The coordinator apologizing for a seating request I had never made.
Linda had not merely been embarrassed by us.
She had been managing us.
“Emily,” Daniel said.
I looked at him.
His eyes were red.
“I didn’t know.”
“I believe you.”
“That somehow feels worse.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is to me.”
Marcus’s radio crackled.
He turned slightly away to listen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He pressed the button.
“Say that again.”
A voice answered too faintly for me to understand.
Marcus looked at Dad.
“She left the lower corridor.”
“Where is she?”
“They lost sight of her near the service elevator.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“How?”
“The elevator opened while a banquet crew was unloading.”
Marcus spoke into the radio.
“Check second floor and basement access.”
Daniel moved toward the corridor.
“I’m going after her.”
Dad stepped in front of him.
“No.”
“That’s my mother.”
“That is exactly why you shouldn’t.”
“She could be doing something stupid.”
“She already is.”
“I can talk to her.”
I stood.
“Can you?”
Daniel looked at me.
I regretted the cruelty immediately.
He did not argue.
Marcus touched his earpiece.
“Second floor door is still secured.”
Dad asked, “Third?”
“No administrative offices.”
“Fourth?”
“Storage and private dining prep.”
Mom looked toward the service elevator.
“What about the basement?”
Marcus’s eyes moved to Dad.
Dad answered.
“Wine storage, mechanical rooms, employee lockers, archive records.”
“Archive records,” I repeated.
Marcus nodded.
“Old event files and paper accounting.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Why would she want old records?”
Dad did not answer immediately.
A new thought had reached him.
I saw it in the way his posture changed.
“Howard’s firm.”
“What about it?” Daniel asked.
Dad looked at Marcus.
“When did Whitmore Commercial start managing Clark Street?”
Marcus thought.
“Three years ago?”
“Two and a half.”
Dad turned toward Daniel.
“Has your father ever mentioned renegotiating service contracts with us?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t work for him.”
“Would Linda know about those negotiations?”
“Probably.”
Mom stared at Dad.
“Richard.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
He looked at her.
“She threatened you after humiliating Emily.”
Dad’s mouth flattened.
“And then came back into your building using a false excuse.”
“Yes.”
“This is not just some wedding nonsense anymore.”
“I know.”
Mom stood.
“Then call the police.”
That changed the air around us.
Dad looked at her carefully.
“You’re sure?”
“I was unsure about the wine.”
She glanced toward the corridor.
“I’m not unsure about somebody sneaking into restricted areas.”
Marcus already had his phone out.
Daniel looked stricken.
“Patricia.”
Mom turned to him.
“I am not asking them to arrest her for being your mother.”
“I know.”
“I’m asking for help because she is somewhere she has no business being.”
He nodded slowly.
“I know.”
The words seemed to cost him.
Marcus walked several steps away to make the call.
Dad looked at me.
“You stay here.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“She came back because of me.”
“That does not mean you follow her into a basement.”
“I work here.”
“So do eighty other people who aren’t going downstairs right now.”
I almost argued.
Then I saw Mom’s face.
She had already had wine thrown at her because I spent months pretending things were manageable.
I sat down.
Dad nodded once.
“Thank you.”
“I hate when you say that after winning.”
“I know.”
For the first time that night, the corner of his mouth moved.
Then Marcus’s radio exploded with a burst of static.
A security guard’s voice came through clearly.
“Marcus, we found her.”
Everyone stood.
“Where?”
“Basement archive.”
Marcus pressed the radio closer.
“Is she contained?”
A pause.
Then the guard said, “Not exactly.”
Dad’s expression sharpened.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus repeated the question.
The guard answered.
“She locked herself inside.”
Daniel swore.
Marcus asked, “Can you see what she’s doing?”
“No.”
“Is there another exit?”
“Only the maintenance door, and that alarms if opened.”
Dad was already moving.
Marcus blocked him.
“Police are coming.”
“It’s my building.”
“And you pay me to stop you from making bad decisions in it.”
Dad stared at him.
Marcus stared back.
Mom muttered, “I like him.”
Dad did not.
But he stopped.
Daniel’s phone buzzed.
He looked down.
May you like
A text from Linda.
His face changed so dramatically that I stepped closer.
