Chương 9
Evelyn hated that part of herself too. The part that preferred being composed partly because composure made her superior.
She lowered her voice.
“I am angry.”
Daniel said nothing.
“I am also ashamed.”
He looked up.
“For what?”
“For making it so easy for you to believe I would rescue you.”
His expression shifted.
“That is not an apology for what you did.”
“I know.”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take responsibility in a way that somehow leaves you in control.”
Evelyn stared at him.
It was cruel.
It was also partly true.
Daniel leaned forward.
“You want to know why I thought I could use the signature? Because you always came through afterward. Every time. Dad spent too much, you fixed it. Uncle Peter screwed up, you fixed it. I failed, you fixed it. You never said, ‘This is who I am.’ You said, ‘This is the last time,’ and then you fixed it again.”
Evelyn's throat tightened.
“You are thirty-nine.”
“I know.”
“You're blaming me for forging my signature.”
“No.”
“It sounds remarkably close.”
“I am telling you why I convinced myself it wasn't really stealing.”
“That is not better.”
“I didn't say it was.”
For the first time since entering the café, Daniel looked directly at her without trying to win.
“I knew you'd be angry. I knew you'd say no. I also thought that if it worked, and everyone got paid, and Riverside closed, you would eventually decide the result mattered more than how I got there.”
Evelyn looked down at her tea.
That was the most painful thing he had said because it was the most accurate description of the mother she had been.
Not the mother she wanted to think she had been.
The mother she had actually been.
“What do you need from me now?” she asked.
Daniel's shoulders dropped.
“Forty-eight hours.”
“For what?”
“To keep Claire from contacting anyone.”
“Claire hasn't contacted anyone.”
“Yet.”
“And during those forty-eight hours?”
“I can restructure.”
“With what collateral?”
“My remaining project interests.”
“Enough?”
He did not answer.
She nodded.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“No.”
“You don't have to give me money.”
“I know.”
“I just need you not to light the building on fire while I'm still inside it.”
“I did not put you in that building.”
“You're holding the match.”
Evelyn leaned forward.
“No. I am holding the smoke detector.”
Daniel looked away.
She continued.
“If someone asks me whether I signed those letters, I will answer truthfully.”
“Then I'm finished.”
“I am not going to lie for you.”
“That's not what I'm asking.”
“It is exactly what you're asking. You're asking me to delay the truth because delay might make your version survivable.”
He closed his eyes.
“Forty-eight hours.”
“No.”
“Twenty-four.”
“No.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Tell the people involved before they discover it another way.”
He laughed.
“You have no idea what that means.”
“It means you lose control of the story.”
“I lose the company.”
“Maybe.”
“People lose jobs.”
“Maybe.”
“Investors sue.”
“Possibly.”
“You say those words like weather.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“That you care.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“I care so much that I am sitting here trying not to save you.”
Daniel's face changed.
Neither of them spoke.
The café music was some soft acoustic version of a song Evelyn vaguely recognized. Someone dropped a spoon near the counter. The waiter apologized to another table for a delayed sandwich.
Daniel looked down at his hands.
“I hate you a little right now.”
Evelyn nodded.
“I know.”
“That doesn't bother you?”
“Yes.”
“You don't look bothered.”
“I've looked one way for forty years. It doesn't mean much.”
His mouth twitched.
A painful, almost-smile.
Then it disappeared.
That afternoon, Daniel informed his board.
Not because Evelyn persuaded him.
Because Madison's lawyer sent a preservation notice to Hart Urban Holdings at 3:42 p.m., and the board's outside counsel saw the word unauthorized signature.
By six, Daniel had been placed on temporary administrative leave from the company he founded.
By seven, three board members had resigned from a financing committee.
By eight, one lender had frozen a pending draw.
By nine, Evelyn's phone had thirty-one unread messages.
Most were from people she had not spoken to in months.
One came from her brother Peter.
What the hell is happening with Danny?
Evelyn deleted it without answering.
Then she retrieved it from the trash because deleting messages suddenly felt like suspicious behavior even when it was not.
She hated what crisis did to ordinary actions.
At nine-fifteen, Madison called.
Evelyn almost did not answer.
Then she did.
“I know Claire told us not to discuss substance,” Madison said quickly. “I'm not calling about substance.”
“All right.”
“I have a stupid question.”
“Those are becoming popular.”
Madison laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
“Do you know where Daniel is?”
“No.”
“He left his office around seven. His assistant says he isn't answering.”
Evelyn looked at the clock.
“Have you called him?”
“Six times.”
“Maybe he doesn't want to speak to you.”
“I know.”
The answer was immediate.
Evelyn felt guilty.
“I'm sorry.”
“No, that's fair. I just... he said something yesterday about the lake house.”
Evelyn stiffened.
“What lake house?”
“The one his father had?”
“We sold it nine years ago.”
Silence.
Madison said, “Oh.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me he still went there when he needed to disappear.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Daniel had not lied about the memory.
Only the ownership.
“It's someone else's house now.”
“Right.”
“Did he ever mention another place?”
“No.”
Evelyn stood.
Her rental suddenly felt too small.
“Call his assistant back. Ask if Daniel drove himself.”
“Okay.”
“I'll call his ex-wife.”
Madison hesitated.
“You have her number?”
“Of course.”
“Daniel said you hated each other.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“Daniel says a lot of things.”
His ex-wife, Rebecca, answered on the fourth ring.
“Evelyn?”
“Have you heard from Daniel?”
A pause.
“No. Why?”
Evelyn told her enough.
May you like
Not everything.
Rebecca listened.
