Part 3
Martin’s face became still.
Clara noticed. “You knew.”
“I knew Ms. Reyes had petitioned.”
“You knew Julia had a daughter.”
“Yes.”
The word landed with the bluntness of something too large for inflection.
Clara tightened her grip on the portfolio.
“How long?”
Martin glanced at Nora.
“Don’t protect me from this in front of her,” Clara said. “Not one more time.”
He rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger. It was an old habit, one she remembered from childhood dinners when her father asked questions Martin did not want to answer.
“Since before Nora was born,” he said.
Clara looked away.
The hall had resumed its motion now that the immediate spectacle had become a private catastrophe. Travelers stepped around them. A porter rolled a luggage cart past the edge of the group. The normality felt insulting, then reassuring. Clara could not decide which.
The station employees led them through a side corridor to a small administrative room that smelled of carpet cleaner and burned coffee. There was a rectangular table, six stackable chairs, a wall clock, and a framed emergency evacuation map. The room had no grandeur. Clara was grateful for that.
The male employee introduced himself as Daniel Brooks. His colleague was Marissa Chen. Daniel explained that Nora’s taking the portfolio could be considered theft, but Martin had not requested charges and the property had been returned. Marissa explained that security cameras would have recorded the event. If anyone wanted police, they would call.
“No police,” Martin said.
Clara put the portfolio on the table. “You don’t decide.”
Martin sat across from her. “Calling the police will create a record before you understand what these documents contain.”
“That sounds like advice from the man who hid them.”
“It is advice from an attorney.”
“You haven’t represented me in nine years.”
“I still represent the family holding company.”
“There it is.”
Nora sat beside Elena. Her feet did not touch the floor. She had stopped breathing hard, but her hands trembled when she tried to open the water bottle Marissa gave her. Elena took it, loosened the cap, and returned it without comment.
Clara noticed the motion. She noticed everything because looking directly at the open portfolio felt impossible.
Daniel asked whether there was an immediate custody issue or threat to the child.
“No,” Elena said.
“Yes,” Martin said at the same time.
Nora looked at him with exhausted dislike.
Martin corrected himself. “There may be a legal vulnerability. Her mother’s estate is unsettled. Ms. Reyes’s guardianship has not been finalized.”
“And your solution was to take her mother’s documents out of state?” Elena asked.
“They are not her mother’s documents.”
“They have her mother’s face in them.”
“They belong to several clients and entities.”
Clara leaned forward. “Who was your client when you helped Julia become Anna Hart?”
Martin did not answer.
Daniel cleared his throat. “This has gone beyond a station matter. I can give you privacy for a few minutes, but we cannot hold anyone here.”
Clara nodded. “Thank you.”
Marissa opened the door, then paused beside Nora. “That was a dangerous thing to do.”
Nora stared at the bottle.
“But you’re not in trouble with the station right now,” Marissa added. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The employees left.
Silence settled beneath the hum of the building’s ventilation.
Clara removed her pearl earrings one at a time and placed them beside her phone. She did this when a headache was beginning. Martin knew it. Elena did not.
Nora watched.
“You can read the letter,” she said.
Clara touched the folded page but did not open it. “Did you?”
“No. Mom said it was yours.”
“When did she give it to you?”
“She didn’t.”
Elena answered. “Anna left a storage box in my apartment. She told me that if anything happened, I was supposed to give it to Martin.”
Clara looked at her. “You did?”
“I tried. He came to my place three days ago. He went through the box and took the portfolio.”
“I catalogued the materials,” Martin said.
“You removed them,” Elena replied. “Without telling Nora.”
“They contain confidential records.”
“Her mother was dead.”
“Confidentiality does not end because someone dies.”
Clara looked between them. “How did Nora know I would be here?”
Nora set down the water bottle. “Your company posted a picture yesterday.”
Clara’s stomach tightened.
Mercer North had announced that she would attend a transportation investment conference in New York. A corporate communications post had included a photograph of her boarding from Chicago, silver suitcase beside her, a statement about the romance of rail travel she had never made.
“You saw the post?”
“Ms. Reyes did.”
Elena rubbed her forehead. “I was trying to find an office number for you. I saw the announcement. Then Nora heard Martin telling someone on the phone that he would be on the same train.”
“I was not following Clara,” Martin said.
“You were carrying documents about her dead sister toward her train,” Elena said. “You can understand how that looked.”
Nora’s gaze remained fixed on Clara. “Mom said he would always choose the company.”
Martin’s face altered. Barely.
Clara saw it.
“She talked about him?”
“Sometimes.”
“What did she say?”
Nora picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “That he helped her and ruined everything.”
Martin looked toward the wall clock.
Clara unfolded the letter.
The first line was her childhood nickname.
Cece,
If you are reading this, Martin either kept his promise too late or broke it in the usual careful way.
Clara stopped. Julia had always called her Cece when they were alone. No one else had. After Julia vanished, their mother tried it once and Clara screamed until she was sick.
She read on.
May you like
I am sorry to begin with him, but he became the hallway between us. For years I kept expecting him to open the door. Then I understood that hallways belong to houses, and our father owned the house.
Clara’s eyes blurred. She lowered the page.
