Chương 6
She wiped it with a dish towel.
The towel was one she had bought at a grocery store years earlier because Richard had refused to understand why decorative linen should not be used to clean tomato sauce.
It had a faded blue stripe.
Evelyn stood looking at it longer than the object deserved.
Then she laughed once under her breath.
She was selling a fourteen-million-dollar penthouse and apparently still taking a six-dollar dish towel with her.
From the hallway Daniel called, “Do you have my watch box?”
“No.”
“The black one.”
“I know what it looks like.”
“It was in the study.”
“Then look in the study.”
He appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“You moved things.”
“Yes. I lived here.”
He leaned against the frame.
For a few seconds his face looked exhausted rather than combative.
“Why didn't you tell me the closing date?”
“Because I was afraid you'd interfere.”
“I wouldn't have.”
Evelyn looked at him.
He looked down.
“Okay.”
She folded the towel once.
Then again.
“You disabled my building access this morning.”
“I wanted time to move my things in.”
“You wanted me locked out while you established possession.”
His eyes lifted.
“That sounds uglier when you say it.”
“It was ugly before I said it.”
He pressed his lips together.
The kitchen clock clicked.
“You really think I was trying to steal from you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought this was going to be mine.”
“Those are not opposite statements.”
Daniel winced.
She almost apologized.
The reflex angered her.
He said, “Dad said—”
“I know what your father said.”
“He said it my entire life.”
“He also said he would retire at fifty-five.”
“That isn't the same.”
“No. But they were both plans he never put in writing.”
“You added me to the deed after he died.”
“Ten percent.”
“Because you wanted me to have it.”
“I wanted you to feel secure.”
“Well, I did.”
That sentence reached her more deeply than the accusations.
He had felt secure.
She had mistaken security for health.
Daniel rubbed the edge of the counter with his thumb.
“Riverside is not dead.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“The lender pulled because one anchor tenant backed out. We have two replacements. I just need time.”
“How much?”
“Six weeks.”
“How much money?”
He looked toward the living room.
“Daniel.”
“Three point two.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
It was worse than she had expected, though she had expected something bad.
“Personal?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“Two.”
“And Madison's eight hundred?”
“Inside that.”
“Other investors?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
He did not answer.
She opened her eyes.
“You came here today because you needed this address and possession to support the story that the apartment was still available to you.”
“I came here because I needed stability.”
“For whom?”
“My investors. Madison. The bank. Everyone.”
“And you thought changing the locks would create that?”
“I thought if I lived here, we could work something out.”
“With me locked out.”
“I was going to call you.”
“When?”
He stared at her.
“After the movers?”
He did not answer.
Evelyn nodded.
“That's what I thought.”
Daniel stepped into the kitchen.
“I did not set out to steal from you.”
“No one sets out with those words.”
“You think I'm some kind of criminal.”
“I think you're scared.”
He looked at her.
“And I think scared people do things they explain to themselves later.”
His eyes watered.
Not much.
He blinked and the moisture disappeared.
“I was trying to save my company.”
“I know.”
“Twenty-two people work for me.”
“I know.”
“They lose their jobs if I fail.”
“You used that sentence last Christmas.”
“Because it's true.”
“So was the signature on the payroll letter.”
His face folded inward for a moment.
Evelyn had to look away.
That was the cruel part about loving someone who had harmed you. Their shame did not necessarily satisfy anything. Sometimes it simply created another pain in the room.
Daniel whispered, “I thought you'd back me.”
“I did.”
“I mean now.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Then help me.”
Evelyn picked up the dish towel.
She folded it into a square and placed it beside the sink.
“No.”
He stared at her.
The word seemed to surprise him more than the sale.
“You don't even know what I'm asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don't.”
“You want me to say the collateral letter represented my intent. You want me to tell Madison I was going to support her investment. You want me to reassure other investors that the penthouse was effectively available even if not legally pledged. You want enough uncertainty around the facts that everyone gives you six more weeks.”
Daniel said nothing.
Evelyn's throat tightened.
“How close am I?”
He looked away.
She nodded.
“That's what I thought.”
He walked out of the kitchen.
At eleven twenty-eight, the last wardrobe box was taped shut.
Daniel had six boxes, two garment bags, a leather duffel, three pairs of shoes still in their original boxes, and the black watch case he had eventually found in the study behind a stack of architecture magazines.
Madison had not spoken to him for nearly fifteen minutes.
The buyer's representative arrived at eleven thirty-two with Claire.
The representative was a thin man named Andrew Cho who wore a navy suit and the neutral expression of someone whose career depended on never becoming emotionally involved in expensive rooms.
Claire Navarro came in behind him carrying a laptop bag and a paper folder.
She hugged Evelyn briefly.
Daniel watched.
Claire nodded at him.
“Daniel.”
“Claire.”
Andrew introduced himself even though Evelyn had met him at the closing office that morning.
“I'll be quick,” he said. “Mr. Feldman isn't taking physical possession until next month, but we do need the access transfer and condition sign-off.”
Daniel gave a short laugh.
“Of course he isn't.”
Andrew glanced at him.
“My client?”
“He bought a fourteen-million-dollar apartment he doesn't need for a month.”
May you like
Andrew considered whether the sentence required a response.
“It will be his primary residence.”
