Chương 10
When Evelyn finished, she said, “Check the old tennis club.”
“What?”
“The one Richard belonged to. Daniel used to sit in the parking garage there after fights.”
Evelyn was silent.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I was married to him.”
The sentence carried no accusation.
That made it worse.
The club had closed three years earlier, but the parking structure remained as part of an office conversion.
Evelyn took a car.
She told herself she was not rescuing him.
Then she became angry at herself for turning every act into a moral category.
Her son was missing after his company suspended him.
She was his mother.
She could look.
Daniel's car was on the third level.
He was sitting behind the wheel with the seat reclined, staring through the windshield at a concrete wall.
Evelyn knocked on the passenger window.
He startled so violently she almost laughed.
He unlocked the door.
She got in.
For a minute neither spoke.
The garage smelled faintly of oil and damp concrete.
“You called Rebecca,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Of course she knew.”
“Yes.”
“She always knew where I went.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“You told Madison you went to the lake house.”
He covered his face.
“Oh, God.”
“She was worried.”
“I can't talk to her.”
“Then text her that you're alive.”
He did.
The act took five seconds.
When he put the phone down, Evelyn said, “Why here?”
He stared at the concrete wall.
“Dad used to bring me to the club.”
“I remember.”
“He'd play tennis for two hours, and I'd sit in the café eating fries.”
“I remember that too.”
“The fries were terrible.”
“They were.”
Daniel gave a small laugh.
Then his face crumpled.
He turned away.
Evelyn looked out her window.
She did not touch him.
After a while he said, “The board is going to fire me.”
“Maybe.”
“I wish you'd stop saying maybe.”
“What would you prefer?”
“I don't know.”
“That is where we are.”
He nodded.
“They found the lender letter.”
“The second one?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell them?”
“I did.”
“Everything?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
He gave her a tired look.
“I told them every document I could remember.”
“That is not the same sentence.”
“I know.”
Evelyn waited.
Daniel rubbed his eyes.
“There was an email to an investor saying you were committed to supporting the company.”
“Did you attach my signature?”
“No.”
“Did you quote me?”
“No.”
“Was it true?”
He thought about it.
“At the time, I believed it was.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Then tell them that.”
He looked at her.
“You're not angry?”
“I am exhausted. It has more room inside it.”
He laughed again.
Then they sat in silence.
A car entered the garage, tires squeaking on the painted concrete. Headlights passed across their faces and vanished up the ramp.
Daniel said, “I don't know who I am if the company goes.”
Evelyn turned toward him.
He kept his eyes forward.
“That sounds pathetic.”
“No.”
“It does.”
“It sounds expensive.”
He glanced at her.
She shrugged.
“You built an identity with a lot of overhead.”
A surprised laugh escaped him.
It became a sob before he could stop it.
He bent forward, elbows on his knees.
Evelyn looked away again.
She had not seen him cry since Richard's funeral.
Even then Daniel had cried privately, returning from the men's room with red eyes and claiming someone had been smoking in there.
Now he stayed bent forward for a long time.
No sound except breathing.
Eventually he sat back.
“I told Madison I owned half because ten percent sounded...”
He stopped.
“Small?” Evelyn asked.
“Dependent.”
She understood.
He had spent his life trying to escape the fact that much of his security had come from other people.
And he had tried to escape it by claiming more of what belonged to them.
“I told investors the penthouse was worth less because then my share sounded bigger relative to the amount I needed.”
Evelyn frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Not even dishonest sense.”
“I know.”
“That's almost offensive.”
Daniel laughed weakly.
“I was improvising.”
“You're bad at crime.”
He looked at her.
She looked back.
For ten seconds, they both laughed.
It was inappropriate.
It changed nothing.
It also kept them from drowning in the car.
When the laughter faded, Daniel said, “Are you going to report me?”
Evelyn's stomach tightened.
“I don't know.”
He nodded slowly.
“I deserve that.”
“Don't make this easier by becoming noble for thirty seconds.”
He looked at her.
She continued.
“I am not deciding what you deserve tonight.”
“What will you decide?”
“What is true. What I am required to disclose. What I refuse to lie about. Those are different questions.”
He stared at the steering wheel.
“Claire tell you that?”
“No.”
“Sounds like Claire.”
“I'll try not to be offended.”
He looked at her.
“Would you have sold the apartment if you hadn't found out about Riverside?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“When did you decide?”
Evelyn thought.
Not when Daniel changed the locks.
Not when the private listing went live.
Not even when she learned he had been using the penthouse address in investor materials.
She knew the actual moment.
“Three months ago.”
“What happened?”
“You asked me what color I wanted my bedroom painted.”
Daniel frowned.
“At dinner?”
“Yes.”
“I don't remember.”
“I do.”
“You said you hated the beige.”
“I said I hated beige bedrooms.”
“Right.”
“And then you told me Madison liked warm white.”
Daniel looked confused.
“So?”
“You were planning to redecorate my bedroom in a home where I was still sleeping.”
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Evelyn looked through the windshield at the concrete wall.
“You didn't ask whether I was leaving. You asked what color I wanted before I left.”
“I thought you wanted something smaller.”
“I did. Eventually.”
“I thought we were helping you.”
“I know.”
That was the strange mercy in it.
She believed him.
May you like
He had thought he was helping.
He had also thought the home should be his.
