Chương 10
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“You going to call a lawyer?”
“Probably.”
“The foundation?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Olivia?”
Ben looked at his phone.
She had sent seventeen messages.
The first said:
Please come back so we can talk.
The last said:
I am not letting Tessa destroy four years of our lives with half-truths.
He locked the screen.
“No.”
That night Ben slept in his mother’s bed because the guest room had been stripped and he could not bring himself to drive anywhere else.
He expected the room to overwhelm him.
Instead it was uncomfortable.
Margaret’s mattress was too firm.
The pillow smelled like nothing.
At two in the morning the radiator made a clicking noise.
At three-twelve Ben got up and ate crackers over the kitchen sink.
At three-forty, he found a container of expired mustard in the refrigerator and threw it away.
At four-ten, he opened the junk drawer.
There were seventeen pens, six of which did not work.
He tested each one on the back of an envelope.
He did not understand why this felt necessary.
At five, he found his mother’s phone in a box labeled PERSONAL ELECTRONICS.
The battery was dead.
His hands began shaking.
He plugged it in.
When it powered on, it asked for a passcode.
He tried Margaret’s birthday.
Wrong.
His father’s birthday.
Wrong.
His own.
Wrong.
He sat at the kitchen table staring at the lock screen.
No miracle occurred.
No convenient message appeared.
Technology had declined to participate in narrative closure.
Ben laughed softly.
“Of course.”
He put the phone down.
At eight-thirty, he called the estate attorney.
At nine, he called the foundation’s executive director.
At nine-fifteen, he called his business partner and said he would not be coming in.
By ten, the canceled wedding had reached social media.
A guest’s cousin had posted a twenty-two-second video of the moment Olivia knocked Lucy’s basket away.
The video did not include Tessa’s revelation.
It showed only the flowers scattering, Lucy losing her shoe, and Olivia saying, “Stop calling Margaret that.”
The caption read:
Bride loses it on flower girl seconds before vows. Wedding CANCELLED.
It had two hundred thousand views by lunch.
Ben hated everyone immediately.
Olivia called at eleven.
He almost ignored it.
Then he answered.
“What?”
Her breathing was uneven.
“Have you seen the video?”
“Yes.”
“It makes me look insane.”
Ben looked out his mother’s kitchen window.
“You knocked a basket out of a four-year-old’s hands.”
“I know what I did.”
“Then I’m not sure editing is the main problem.”
“People are threatening me.”
His anger shifted.
“What?”
“Messages. Comments. Someone posted my office address.”
Ben sat straighter.
“Call the police if there are specific threats.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“Then why did you call?”
Silence.
When Olivia spoke again, her voice was smaller.
“Because I didn’t know who else to call.”
That landed somewhere Ben did not want it.
He rubbed his forehead.
“Is your father there?”
“Yes.”
“Stay with him.”
“You hate him too now?”
“No.”
“You looked at him like you did.”
“I don’t have enough energy to hate your entire family.”
Olivia gave a brief, broken laugh.
It disappeared quickly.
“Did you read the note?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“What did she say?”
Ben looked at the yellow page on the table.
“That she wanted me to come.”
Olivia inhaled.
“Ben.”
“She wrote it clearly.”
“I know.”
He closed his eyes.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she wanted me.”
“Yes.”
There was no room left in him for the answer.
He stared at the wall.
“Why?”
Olivia began crying.
“I told you.”
“No. You told me you were scared.”
“I was.”
“Scared people do a lot of things. Why that?”
She was quiet for so long he thought the call had dropped.
Then she said, “Because every time you went to her, you came back less certain about me.”
Ben did not respond.
“She could do that to you. One sentence from her and suddenly you would look at me differently for days.”
“Maybe because sometimes she was right.”
“And sometimes she wasn’t.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t remember those times now.”
“I do.”
“No. You’re making her perfect because she’s dead.”
The cruelty of the sentence made him grip the table.
Then he forced his hand to relax.
“Be careful.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“You are.”
“I’m trying to make you remember what it was actually like.”
“I remember.”
“She called my mother a social climber.”
“Your mother called her a bitter widow.”
“Because Margaret had just insulted her.”
“I know.”
“She told you I was using you.”
Ben looked at the foundation email open on his laptop.
“Were you?”
Olivia went silent.
“That’s cruel.”
“It’s a question.”
“I loved you.”
“That isn’t the same answer.”
“You know what? I’m done.”
“Okay.”
She did not hang up.
Neither did he.
After a while Olivia said, “North Coast was going to happen.”
Ben closed his eyes.
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I spoke to the foundation this morning.”
“What did they say?”
“That North Coast never approved the pledge.”
Olivia’s breathing changed.
“Who did you talk to?”
“That’s your first question?”
“I had a contact.”
“Who?”
“Mitchell.”
“Mitchell who?”
“Dane.”
Ben wrote the name down.
“What did he promise?”
“He said he could get it through.”
“Could.”
“He was confident.”
“Did he authorize you to announce eight hundred thousand dollars?”
“He said it was fine to start planning.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know what you asked.”
“Then answer it.”
“No.”
Ben stared at the word he had written.
Mitchell Dane.
“Did you create the pledge letter?”
Silence.
Ben’s stomach tightened.
“Olivia.”
“I drafted it.”
“Did North Coast sign it?”
“No.”
“Did you show it to the board as though they had?”
“I showed them a draft.”
“You presented it as executed.”
“I thought it would be.”
Ben leaned back.
The lie was larger than he had expected.
“What happened to Mitchell?”
“He left.”
May you like
“When?”
“Two weeks after the dinner.”
