Part 3
“You think refusing to reach for them makes you innocent?” she asked.
Lily’s throat tightened. “I don’t think anything I do in front of you will make me innocent.”
“Interesting choice of word.”
“It was yours first.”
Eleanor’s composure slipped again. Not enough for a stranger to notice, but Lily had spent eleven months working in rooms where Eleanor entered without greeting and left without closing doors. She recognized the small flare of the nostrils, the stillness before punishment.
Eleanor turned to Claire. “Open her handbag.”
“I will,” Claire said. “After we document who handled it.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“And after Ms. Hart consents.”
“It contains my property.”
“It also contains hers.”
“I handed her the box in front of witnesses.”
“Yes,” Evelyn said.
The word came quietly from the blonde woman.
Eleanor turned.
Evelyn’s champagne remained untouched now. “You did.”
“I did not ask whether you saw me.”
“No. But I did.”
Nate rubbed one thumb along the edge of his phone. “I saw it too.”
Eleanor’s stare settled on him.
He looked at the table. “You pushed it toward her.”
“She could have replaced whatever was inside.”
“When?” Lily asked.
Nobody answered.
Lily’s voice remained low. “I picked it up. I put it in my bag. My hands were above the table. When did I replace it?”
Nate glanced at Evelyn. “She didn’t.”
Eleanor’s face became calm again. The recovery frightened Lily more than anger would have.
“You have all mistaken a simple request for something sinister,” she said. “Claire arrived with an identical handbag and a deed no one was permitted to review. Adrian has apparently decided to ingratiate himself with the new owner. Lily has a valuable piece of jewelry in her possession. Those are the facts.”
“The facts will be documented,” Claire said.
“With whom? Your friends at the recorder’s office?”
“With the sheriff’s deputy waiting in the circular drive.”
That was the first moment Eleanor looked afraid.
Lily turned sharply toward Claire. “You called the sheriff?”
“I requested a neutral witness before I came through the doors.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You asked me not to warn you about every precaution.”
“I meant legal precautions.”
“This is one.”
The answer irritated Lily because it was sensible, and because Claire knew it would.
Beyond the hedges, tires moved slowly over gravel.
Eleanor sat down again. The beaded gown settled around her knees with a soft metallic whisper. She reached for her water and found the glass empty, though she had not touched it during lunch.
Adrian stepped toward the service station, picked up a crystal pitcher, then stopped as if uncertain whether pouring water for her would make him complicit in something.
Eleanor held out the glass.
He filled it.
The ordinary gesture disturbed Lily. He had just disobeyed Eleanor in the only way that mattered, yet his body still knew where to stand and how far to tilt the pitcher. He set it down without spilling and returned to the French doors.
Eleanor took one sip.
“Who else knew?” she asked Claire.
“About the recording?”
“About his decision.”
“Mr. Whitmore’s independent attorney. His physician knew he was conducting legal business, not the terms. The notary. The title company. Ms. Hart.”
“So she admits it.”
Lily looked at the keys. “I knew he had signed something. Claire wouldn’t tell me when it would be recorded.”
Eleanor’s eyes sharpened. “You knew.”
“I knew he was trying.”
“You sat at my table knowing you had taken my home.”
Lily’s hand moved beneath the table and found the edge of her dress. She pinched the black fabric between two fingers.
“You invited me after Claire told you there would be an estate announcement,” she said. “I thought you knew.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“I’m not.”
“You could have declined.”
“I did. Three times.”
Eleanor’s gaze flicked toward Claire.
Claire closed the dark-blue folder. “Your office said attendance was essential to discussing the restoration contracts.”
“My office?”
“Your assistant, Melissa Grant.”
Eleanor’s face did not move.
Lily saw the answer anyway.
Melissa had not sent the invitation on her own.
The tires on the gravel stopped. A car door closed beyond the hedge.
Evelyn set down her champagne and whispered, “This is becoming awful.”
Nate gave a quiet, humorless breath. “It was awful ten minutes ago.”
Eleanor heard him. “You are free to leave.”
He looked toward the French doors, but he did not stand.
A deputy came around the hedge instead of through the house. She was a broad-shouldered woman in a tan uniform, perhaps fifty, with sunglasses resting on top of her head. She removed her hat as she approached the table.
Claire stood to meet her.
The deputy’s name was Rosa Alvarez. She listened without interrupting while Claire described the two handbags, the ivory box, the property transfer, and Eleanor’s request. She asked every person to remain seated and put away their phones.
Nate immediately objected that his phone was already facedown.
Deputy Alvarez looked at him until he placed it on the table.
She photographed Lily’s bag where it rested, then the duplicate bag, the keys, the transfer, and the seating arrangement. She asked Lily for permission to open her handbag.
Lily said yes.
The deputy put on blue nitrile gloves. The color looked obscene against the linen and white roses.
She opened Lily’s handbag and removed each item separately: a wallet, keys to Lily’s apartment, a paper packet of almonds, cotton gloves, a small tape measure, a pencil case, a phone charger, a folded pharmacy receipt for her father’s blood pressure medication, and the ivory velvet box.
Eleanor watched the box.
Deputy Alvarez placed it on an unused bread plate.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” she said, “do you want to state what should be inside?”
“A vintage sapphire brooch surrounded by twelve old-cut diamonds.”
“Approximate value?”
“Insured for one hundred eighty thousand dollars.”
Nate whispered something that sounded like Jesus.
The deputy looked at Lily. “Did you open the box?”
May you like
“No.”
“Did you know what was in it?”
