Chương 5
“What does that mean?”
“A local real-estate account posted that an announcement expected from the Vale family was delayed after a medical issue.”
“Who follows a local real-estate account?”
“Twenty-eight thousand people, apparently.”
“Take it down.”
“I do not control the internet.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I have contacted communications.”
The contractor tested the new lock. The bolt scraped once before sliding into place.
Brittany had complained about that scrape for months. Harrison had said the door still locked and therefore did not require repair. Now a stranger fixed it in less than four minutes.
“Where is she?” Harrison asked.
Martin looked at him carefully. “She asked me not to tell you.”
“You spoke to her?”
“She called about retrieving medication.”
“Where is she?”
“Harrison.”
“I need to know she is safe.”
“She is safe.”
“Did she go to her friend’s apartment?”
Martin’s silence answered.
Harrison picked up his phone and called Brittany. It rang until voicemail.
He called again.
Martin moved toward the dining room. “I’m going to give you privacy.”
“No. Stay.”
“I would rather not.”
“Martin.”
His assistant stopped.
Harrison lowered the phone. “Did you know?”
“About the donor?”
The ease of the answer struck harder than accusation.
“You knew.”
“I scheduled some of the appointments.”
“Who else knows?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long?”
“Since last summer.”
“And you said nothing to my mother.”
“That was not difficult.”
Harrison studied him. Martin was thirty-four, compact, careful, almost always dressed in dark suits that made him look younger until he spoke. He had worked for Harrison for seven years. He knew Harrison’s passwords, allergies, travel routines, preferred hotel rooms, and the fact that Harrison sometimes sat in his car for ten minutes before entering his parents’ house.
“Did Brittany tell you about Gabriel Martin?”
“No.”
“Did you know she was meeting him?”
“No.”
“She went to a cardiologist yesterday.”
Martin’s expression sharpened. “Is the baby all right?”
“We don’t know.”
The answer loosened something in the room. Martin put the tablet down.
“What do you need?” he asked.
Harrison looked toward the nursery doorway. Half the room had been painted a muted green. Brittany had selected the color after Harrison rejected yellow as too cheerful and gray as too institutional. A ladder stood beneath the unfinished wall. Two sample swatches were taped beside the window.
“I need her to answer the phone.”
“That is not something I can arrange.”
“I need the fertility clinic records.”
“I can contact them in the morning.”
“I need Gabriel Martin’s full background.”
Martin’s face closed again. “For what purpose?”
“To understand who he is.”
“He may be the biological father of your child.”
“He is a donor.”
“Then treat him like one.”
“You sound like Brittany.”
“She has generally been easier to work for this year.”
Harrison stared at him.
Martin picked up the tablet. “That was inappropriate.”
“No. It was honest.”
“It was both.”
Harrison called Brittany a third time. Voicemail again.
He walked into the nursery and sat on the floor beneath the unpainted section. The baseboard had a small chip near the closet. He had noticed it three times and never mentioned it because Brittany accused him of turning every room into a punch list.
His phone rang.
Clara’s face appeared on the screen.
He answered.
“What happened?” she demanded.
Behind her, an airport lounge glowed with hard white light. Emma sat beside her wearing headphones around her neck. Luke stood several feet away near a window, speaking to someone at the airline desk.
“You landed.”
“Yes, Harrison. That is how planes work. Mother called before the wheels stopped moving.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That Brittany is carrying someone else’s baby and attempted to steal money from the trust. Emma says Mother is lying by omission, which is her favorite style of lying. Luke has become mysteriously fascinated by our baggage claim. Start talking.”
Harrison leaned his head against the wall.
“The baby was conceived with donor sperm.”
Clara blinked.
Emma leaned toward the phone. “Say that again.”
“I’m infertile.”
The words felt strange because he had avoided them even in medical offices. He had said low probability, treatment consequence, reproductive limitation. Never infertile.
Clara’s mouth opened, then closed.
Luke had turned from the airline desk. He was watching the sisters.
Emma spoke first. “Since when?”
“Since the cancer.”
“You were nineteen.”
“Twenty.”
“Does Dad know?”
“I don’t know.”
Clara looked over her shoulder at Luke. “Do you know?”
Luke returned slowly. He was thirty-two, the youngest of Richard and Patricia’s children, though Patricia still spoke of Harrison as if he were the only son who mattered. Luke took the phone from Clara.
“I know,” he said.
Emma swore.
Clara slapped his arm. “You knew?”
“Harrison told me after my wedding.”
“You have been divorced for three years.”
“Yes.”
“And you did not tell us?”
“It was not mine to tell.”
Clara took the phone back. “You people have a diseased understanding of privacy.”
Harrison closed his eyes. “This is not helping.”
“No, what would help is understanding why Mother thinks Brittany committed fraud.”
“Because I did not tell anyone how the baby was conceived.”
“You told Luke.”
“He saw my medication at the hotel after his wedding and asked.”
“You lied on a medical form?” Emma asked.
“A trust questionnaire.”
The sisters became quiet.
Even through the poor connection, Harrison could hear airport announcements in English and Gaelic. A child cried somewhere behind them. Luke said something to an airline employee and received a shrug.
Clara’s anger changed direction. “Did Brittany know you wrote that?”
“She knew about the trust.”
“That was not my question.”
Harrison pressed two fingers against his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“We did not discuss the questionnaire.”
“You were planning to accept five million dollars designated for your biological child.”
“It was intended for our child.”
“Not according to the words you signed.”
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“It was not a final document.”
Emma folded her arms. “That sounds like something Mother would say before losing a lawsuit.”
