Chương 11
They sat at the kitchen table.
Emily signed the property receipt in careful block letters.
Brooks slid the pink camera across.
Emily picked it up and inspected every side.
“You scratched it.”
Brooks leaned forward.
“Where?”
Emily pointed to a faint mark near the flash.
Brooks looked genuinely alarmed.
“I think that was already there.”
“It wasn’t.”
Rachel said, “Emily.”
“What?”
“We have pictures from last summer. We can conduct an investigation.”
Brooks covered her mouth.
Emily looked between them.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“A little,” Rachel admitted.
Emily hugged the camera.
For the first time in weeks, her posture relaxed.
Then she looked at Brooks.
“Did you find the other bottle?”
Brooks’s expression changed.
“No.”
Emily frowned.
“Where did he put it?”
“We don’t know.”
“Did you check the kitchen trash?”
“Yes.”
“Dumpster?”
“Yes.”
“His car?”
“Yes.”
Emily thought.
“Bathroom?”
“Yes.”
Brooks smiled.
“We checked a lot of places.”
Emily looked disappointed.
Rachel said, “You don’t have to solve it.”
“I know.”
Brooks studied her.
“Actually, that’s important.”
Rachel glanced over.
Brooks continued.
“You noticed one thing. One very important thing. Then a lot of adults did a lot of work. Lab technicians. Detectives. Nurses. Lawyers. Your mom.”
Emily looked at Rachel.
“Why Mom?”
“Because she protected you while telling us the truth even when she didn’t know what the truth would become.”
Rachel looked down.
She had not expected to be included.
Emily touched the camera.
“So I didn’t solve it.”
“No,” Brooks said.
Emily considered that.
“Good.”
Brooks smiled.
“Good?”
“I’m bad at solving things.”
Rachel looked at the half-finished puzzle on the coffee table that had been there nine days.
“That is accurate.”
Emily glared at her.
Normal irritation.
Rachel loved it.
A month after Adrian left the hospital, he asked to meet Emily.
Rachel said no.
Vincent accepted the answer.
Adrian did not.
He sent a handwritten note instead.
Rachel nearly threw it away before reading it.
Emily found it on the counter.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
Rachel opened it.
Adrian’s handwriting leaned sharply to the right.
Emily,
I wanted to thank you, but your mother says you have had enough adults turning one scary night into a full-time job. She is right.
So I will only say this: I am alive, I am recovering, and I am very glad you took a picture of a glass bird.
Also, Vincent says you hit the table hard enough to spill his whiskey. Excellent.
Adrian
Emily read it twice.
“He thinks Mom is right.”
Rachel nodded.
“That’s suspicious.”
“Very.”
“Can I meet him?”
“Maybe later.”
“When?”
“When you want to because you want to. Not because you think you owe him.”
Emily thought about that.
“I want to see if he looks like Mr. Vincent.”
Rachel sighed.
“Apparently that is a reason.”
The meeting happened on a Saturday afternoon at Bellamy House before the restaurant opened.
Rachel chose the place because Emily knew it.
No guards in the private dining room.
No journalists.
No cameras except the pink one hanging from Emily’s wrist.
Adrian stood when they entered.
He was thinner than his brother and less imposing. His dark hair had begun to gray at the temples. He wore jeans, a blue sweater, and the expression of a man who had been instructed repeatedly not to make a child uncomfortable.
Vincent sat at the bar.
Emily looked from one brother to the other.
“You don’t look that much alike.”
Adrian put a hand to his chest.
“Hello to you too.”
Vincent looked into his coffee.
Rachel saw the beginning of a smile.
Emily walked closer.
“You look better.”
“Thank you.”
“You looked dead before.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Emily.”
“What?”
Adrian laughed.
It became a cough.
Vincent was on his feet immediately.
Adrian waved him away.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re coughing.”
“Humans do that.”
“You—”
Adrian looked at Emily.
“This is what I live with.”
Emily nodded solemnly.
“Mom does it too.”
Rachel said, “Wonderful.”
They sat.
For several minutes nobody knew what to say.
That pleased Rachel more than a polished conversation would have.
Adrian stirred sugar into coffee he did not drink.
Emily examined the glass crane.
Vincent read a message on his phone and then put it away after Rachel looked at him.
Finally Adrian said, “So that’s the famous bird.”
Emily corrected him.
“Crane.”
“Right.”
“You should know. It’s your restaurant.”
“I don’t own it.”
Vincent said, “You own twelve percent.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You couldn’t let me have that?”
“No.”
Emily looked at Rachel.
“They’re weird.”
Rachel nodded.
“I noticed.”
Adrian smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“I wanted to say thank you.”
Emily’s fingers touched the camera strap.
“You did. In the note.”
“I know.”
“Then you don’t have to again.”
Adrian looked surprised.
Vincent lowered his coffee.
Emily added, “People keep saying it.”
Rachel watched Adrian understand.
“All right,” he said.
Emily looked relieved.
He nodded toward the camera.
“Still taking pictures?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you photograph now?”
“Things.”
“That was specific.”
Emily shrugged.
“Mom sleeping on the couch.”
Rachel turned.
“You did what?”
Emily looked at Adrian.
“See?”
He laughed again, carefully this time.
The afternoon became easier after that.
Emily photographed the crane.
Then a row of clean glasses.
Then Adrian and Vincent arguing about whether a sandwich counted as lunch if it contained only cheese.
She did not photograph their faces.
Not yet.
When Rachel went to the restroom, Vincent followed her into the corridor.
“May I ask you something?”
“That depends.”
“Would you consider working somewhere else?”
Rachel stared at him.
“I thought you improved.”
“This is not charity.”
“Then what is it?”
“My family office needs someone to manage private events and hospitality.”
She laughed.
“You are offering me a job.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You are good at your current one.”
“You barely know me.”
“I’ve been served by you for four years.”
“That means you know I refill water.”
“You kept forty guests calm during a medical emergency.”
May you like
“That is part of the job.”
“You identified how the bar handles decanters when Marcus expected you not to.”
