Chương 2
“No.”
“Victoria—”
“Don’t.”
Daniel’s mouth closed.
Victoria pressed the envelope flat against the table.
“You don’t get to say my name like I’m the one making this ugly.”
“You don’t know what it says.”
“I know enough to count.”
“You don’t.”
“Then tell me.”
Daniel looked toward the windows.
Maya had seen men do that before.
Her mother used to call it looking for an exit where there wasn’t one.
Maya heard Elena’s voice so clearly that for one ridiculous second she expected her mother to come through the salon door.
Instead, Chief Steward Owen Mercer appeared.
He had evidently heard the glass.
His eyes took in the floor, Maya, Daniel, and Victoria.
“Everything all right?”
“No,” Victoria said.
Daniel said, “Yes.”
Owen looked at Maya.
She almost laughed.
The expression on his face was painfully familiar: the look of an employee trying to determine which wealthy person’s version of reality was currently billable.
“I dropped a glass,” Maya said.
Daniel looked at her.
She met his eyes.
It was not protection.
It was not forgiveness.
She simply did not want Owen involved yet.
Owen nodded slowly.
“I’ll send someone.”
“I’ll handle it,” Maya said.
“Maya—”
“I’ve got it.”
Owen lingered another second before leaving.
Victoria waited until the door shut.
“You lied for him.”
“No.”
“You just did.”
“I lied for myself.”
That answer surprised Victoria.
Good, Maya thought, and immediately hated herself for thinking it.
Victoria studied her.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want the crew discussing my mother before I understand what happened to her.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
Victoria noticed.
“What happened to her?”
Maya looked at Daniel.
“That’s what I came here to find out.”
Daniel exhaled through his nose.
“You came here under false pretenses.”
“I applied for a job.”
“You targeted my yacht.”
“I saw the posting.”
“Because you were watching my company.”
“Yes.”
Victoria’s eyes moved between them.
“How long have you known who she is?”
Daniel answered quietly.
“Since yesterday.”
Maya stared at him.
That was new.
“You knew yesterday?”
“I confirmed it yesterday.”
“How?”
“Your emergency contact.”
Maya’s pulse jumped.
“My emergency contact is my aunt.”
“Ruth Collins.”
Daniel’s voice changed around the name.
Maya noticed.
So did Victoria.
Daniel continued, “She was Elena’s sister.”
“You remember Ruth?”
“Yes.”
Maya took one step toward him.
“How?”
Daniel looked up.
“Because I remember all of them.”
“All of who?”
He did not answer.
Victoria placed both palms on the table.
“Open the envelope.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You told me not to.”
“I changed my mind.”
She broke the seal.
Inside were six pages and an old photograph.
The photograph slid out first.
It landed faceup.
Maya knew it immediately.
Her mother was twenty-two in the picture, younger than Maya was now. Elena stood beside an elderly man in a wheelchair outside a brick house, wearing pale blue scrubs and squinting into the sun.
Beside her stood Daniel.
He was thirty-four.
He had dark hair.
He was standing.
Victoria picked up the photograph.
Maya had seen copies of it in her aunt’s house, but the image had always been cropped.
Daniel had been cut away.
All Maya had ever seen was Elena and the elderly man.
Victoria turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
Her eyes moved across it.
“What does it say?” Maya asked.
Victoria looked at Daniel.
He answered.
“August 17, 2002. Dad’s last good afternoon. Elena made him laugh.”
Maya’s throat tightened.
“Your father?”
“Charles Whitmore.”
“My mother cared for your father.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she have checks from you?”
Daniel said nothing.
Maya had promised herself she would stay composed.
That promise had been made on land.
She stepped around the broken champagne glass.
“My mother died with your name in a locked box.”
Victoria lowered the photograph.
Daniel looked at Maya.
“When?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
Maya laughed once.
It came out wrong.
Small and ugly.
“You investigated my emergency contact but didn’t bother finding out whether my mother was alive?”
“I knew she wasn’t.”
“When?”
Daniel’s face lost some color.
“2018.”
Maya froze.
Her mother had died in 2018.
“You did know.”
“I learned afterward.”
“How far afterward?”
“A few months.”
“From who?”
“Ruth.”
Maya stared at him.
“Aunt Ruth spoke to you?”
“Yes.”
Maya reached for the back of a chair.
The room had begun to feel subtly tilted, though she knew the yacht was riding smoothly.
Victoria looked down at the papers.
“These are copies of checks.”
Maya knew those too.
Four checks.
Each for twelve thousand five hundred dollars.
All issued by Whitmore Holdings in 2002.
All payable to Elena Collins.
Victoria scanned the dates.
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Daniel nodded.
“For what?”
“An agreement.”
Maya said, “What agreement?”
Daniel rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger.
A small, repetitive motion.
“I need to explain something first.”
“No,” Maya said. “You need to answer one question without arranging it into the version you like.”
Daniel looked at her.
She heard her mother again.
Men with money don’t lie better, baby. They just get more practice choosing the order of the truth.
Maya had been fourteen when Elena said that.
They had been standing in a grocery store because a coupon had expired and Elena was irritated with the manager.
At the time Maya thought she was talking about the manager.
Now she was not sure.
“What was the money for?” Maya asked.
Daniel looked at the photograph.
“My father was dying.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He had advanced Parkinson’s. Dementia had started. He needed twenty-four-hour care.”
“My mother.”
“Your mother was one of four people.”
“One of four what?”
“Private nurses and aides. Elena was the one he trusted.”
Maya folded her arms.
Daniel continued.
“My father and I had a difficult relationship.”
Victoria made a faint sound.
Daniel glanced at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You clearly have something to say.”
“Apparently this is a family tradition. Keep going.”
May you like
Daniel looked back at Maya.
“My father founded Whitmore Marine Systems. By 2002, I was running most of it. He still controlled the voting trust.”
