Part 5
Claire knew that. Daniel’s cousin’s daughter had broken her ankle. Ruth had said Marian found a replacement through the florist.
Claire turned slowly toward her aunt.
“You arranged it.”
Ruth shook her head.
“I approved a suggestion.”
“Whose suggestion?”
“Marian’s, I believe.”
Marian’s expression changed.
“No. Ms. Mercer, you told me the florist had a child of the right age.”
“I said the florist knew someone.”
“Who told you?”
Ruth’s gaze settled on Paula.
The florist lifted both hands.
“Nora asked whether Lily could do it. She said she’d heard there was an opening.”
“How did she hear?” Claire asked.
Paula looked at Ruth, then away.
“I don’t know.”
Ruth said, “This is becoming ridiculous.”
“Did Nora contact you?” Claire asked her.
“No.”
“Did anyone named Hart contact you?”
“No.”
“Did you know what Lily would be wearing?”
“She wore the dress you approved.”
“The locket.”
“No.”
Ruth’s answer arrived without hesitation, but her left hand tightened around the emergency bag.
Claire remembered a summer afternoon when she was fourteen, sitting at Ruth’s kitchen table while her aunt taught her to play bridge. Ruth had explained that most people watched eyes for lies, but hands were less disciplined.
Claire had asked whether that meant Ruth lied often.
Everyone lies often, Ruth had said. Decent people simply have better reasons.
Daniel returned with Lily.
The girl had stopped crying. Someone had given her a folded white handkerchief, which she held against her chest beneath the bouquet. Daniel’s expression suggested he had heard enough of the conversation to understand that the problem had grown.
Paula crossed toward Lily.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Lily stepped behind Daniel.
The florist stopped.
Claire noticed the movement.
“What happened between you and Nora?” she asked.
Paula looked offended.
“Nothing happened.”
“Then why is Lily afraid of you?”
“I’m not,” Lily said quickly.
Daniel glanced down at her.
Paula rubbed the floral tape on her wrist.
“Her mother and I had words this morning. That’s all.”
“About what?” Daniel asked.
“The necklace.”
Claire’s fingers tightened around the locket.
Paula looked at it.
“I told Nora it was too old and valuable for a child to wear. I offered to put it in the hotel safe. She became upset.”
“How upset?”
“She said nobody was taking it again.”
The word again remained in the hallway.
Richard closed his eyes briefly.
Claire saw.
“Again,” she repeated.
Paula seemed to realize she had said more than intended.
“That was her word, not mine.”
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing that made sense.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Paula glanced toward Lily.
Daniel said, “We can have someone sit with her.”
“No,” Lily said.
Her voice was small but certain.
Claire looked at her. The child’s cheeks were blotched from crying, but her eyes had sharpened with the alertness of someone accustomed to adults deciding which truths she could tolerate.
“What did your mother say?” Claire asked.
Lily pressed the handkerchief between her fingers.
“She said I had to keep it on until you saw me.”
Ruth inhaled.
Daniel turned toward Claire.
No one spoke for several seconds.
The quartet beyond the doors began another piece. Claire recognized the opening notes. It was the arrangement of “Clair de Lune” she had chosen for the signing table after the ceremony. Played now, it sounded like an accusation from a better-planned afternoon.
“You knew she meant me?” Claire asked Lily.
The girl nodded.
“Did she show you a picture?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know who I was?”
“She showed me your wedding page.”
“My what?”
“The picture with you and Mr. Daniel.”
Their wedding website.
Claire had approved it because guests needed hotel information. Daniel had written the short story of how they met, removing three sentences after Claire said they made him sound too charming. The site included a photograph taken on the lakefront the previous fall.
Nora had known exactly which bride would see the locket.
Daniel’s face grew still.
“When did she show you?” he asked.
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Did she say why Claire needed to see it?”
Lily shook her head.
“She said I couldn’t tell until she asked me about it.”
“She expected Claire to ask?”
“Yes.”
Claire opened the locket again.
The pearl fragment caught the hallway light.
Ruth stepped forward.
“Give that to me.”
Claire looked up.
Her aunt stopped.
“Why?”
“Because you are not thinking clearly.”
“It’s mine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Five minutes ago, you said it belonged to my mother.”
“I said she wore it.”
Paula looked from one woman to the other.
Marian’s hand drifted toward her earpiece again, perhaps needing the comfort of a solvable problem.
Daniel moved beside Claire.
“Ruth, why do you want it?”
“I want her to stop handling something fragile while she’s shaking.”
Claire looked at her own hand.
It was shaking.
That did not make Ruth right.
She closed the locket and slipped the chain around two fingers.
“Marian, empty the blue sitting room.”
“It’s already private.”
“Make sure.”
The coordinator nodded.
“Paula, stay here.”
The florist stiffened.
“Am I being accused of something?”
“No.”
“It feels like it.”
Claire looked at her.
“I know.”
The answer seemed to disarm Paula more than denial would have.
Claire turned toward Lily.
“Come with us.”
The child looked at Daniel.
He gave a small nod.
They moved down the hallway together. Richard followed. Ruth did not at first. Claire heard her whisper something to Paula, too softly to distinguish, then the click of her heels catching up.
May you like
The blue sitting room had earned its name from the walls, though the color was closer to storm-gray in the afternoon light. Two cream sofas faced each other across a low glass table. A porcelain bowl held sugared almonds no one had touched. The tall windows overlooked the rear drive rather than the gardens.
Daniel let Lily choose where to sit. She took the far end of one sofa and arranged her skirt over her knees. The bouquet rested beside her. Paula sat at the opposite end, leaving a careful space between them.
