Chương 3
She took the key cards from the clerk.
“Marcus, can you stay with the kids for ten minutes?”
Derek said, “I’ll stay with them.”
“No.”
“They’re my children.”
“And you’re about to tell me how long you’ve been lying to me.”
Ethan looked over from the postcards.
Ava lowered her voice. “Marcus will take them upstairs.”
Lily came to her without being asked. She handed Ava the framed photograph.
“Don’t let Grandpa take it,” she whispered.
Walter heard her. His face changed, but not in the way Ava expected. Hurt passed across it first, then anger at having been hurt.
“I wouldn’t take anything from you,” he said.
Lily looked down.
Ava held the frame against her dress. “Upstairs, sweetheart.”
Marcus guided the children toward the elevator.
When the doors closed, Ava walked past the lobby bar and through a side exit into the parking lot. The heat had begun to loosen, though the pavement still gave off the day. Shopping carts clattered near the outlet stores. Someone across the lot was loading bags into a minivan while arguing about dinner.
Walter followed slowly. Derek came last.
Ava stopped beside a landscaping island planted with dusty ornamental grass.
“Start with the house,” she said.
Walter looked toward the hotel windows. “Evelyn allowed me to use it.”
“You said you bought it.”
“She intended to transfer it.”
“But she didn’t.”
“There were complications.”
“What complications?”
“She became ill.”
“She died six months ago, Dad. When did she intend to transfer it?”
Walter’s eyes moved to the photograph. “A long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
“And you never thought to mention that the deed remained in her name?”
“I thought it would be resolved.”
“By whom?”
“Her attorney.”
“Name.”
Walter blinked. “What?”
“Her attorney’s name.”
“I don’t remember.”
Marcus would have remembered. Ava would have remembered. Walter remembered the names of waiters who gave poor service and bank officers who delayed wire transfers. He remembered the model numbers of appliances he had returned five years earlier.
“You don’t know her attorney because there was no transfer,” Ava said.
“There was an understanding.”
“Did she give you permission to enter after her death?”
Walter’s jaw flexed. “This is not a criminal matter.”
“Did she?”
“No written permission.”
“And the lockbox?”
“I had access.”
“You had an old key.”
“She gave it to me.”
“Before or after you told us the property was ours?”
Derek stepped between them. “Ava, slow down.”
She turned on him. “You first. How long?”
He looked at Walter.
Ava felt something collapse inside her with almost no sensation. “Do not look at him before you answer me.”
Derek’s shoulders lowered. “Two years.”
The traffic from the highway seemed to move farther away.
“Two years since what?”
“Since I found out the title hadn’t changed.”
“How?”
“I asked Dad for the deed because the insurance broker needed it.”
“What insurance broker?”
“For renovations.”
“We weren’t renovating.”
“He wanted to.”
“Who is he?”
Derek glanced toward Walter again, caught himself, and looked away. “Dad.”
Walter said, “The plan was to update the property.”
“You told Derek to insure a house you didn’t own?”
“I was exploring options.”
“Fraud is an option now?”
“No policy was issued,” Derek said. “The broker saw the title problem and stopped it.”
“And you told me nothing.”
“I thought Dad was fixing it.”
“For two years?”
“He said Evelyn’s health was bad and her attorney was slow.”
“Did you meet Evelyn?”
“No.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see a sales contract?”
Derek’s silence answered.
Ava looked at the man she had slept beside for fourteen years. The gray sleeveless shirt made him look younger from a distance, almost like the twenty-six-year-old who had taken her kayaking on their third date and fallen into the water while trying to look competent. Up close, there were lines beside his mouth she had not noticed forming. He had been shaving around truths for so long that concealment now appeared to be a normal part of his face.
“You brought our children to this house,” she said.
“I thought we had the right to use it.”
“Based on what?”
“Dad.”
Walter straightened. “That should have been enough.”
Ava stared at him.
There it was. Not remorse. Not even denial. A belief so complete that he seemed offended by the need to explain it.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I have spent my life protecting this family.”
“From what?”
“Uncertainty. People who take advantage. Bad timing. Your mother’s illness. Derek’s mistakes. Your risks.”
“My risks?”
“You left a secure position to join the company.”
“You asked me to.”
“And I made sure it worked.”
“With whose money?”
Walter looked past her.
Ava lifted the photograph. “Who was she?”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“An old friend.”
“In what sense?”
“That is private.”
“She’s dead, her house is in your family photographs, and our accounting system moved money through a company with her name. You have lost privacy.”
Derek said, “What money?”
Ava turned. His confusion appeared genuine, which no longer reassured her.
“Marcus found transfers involving Shaw Residential Holdings.”
Walter’s head snapped toward her. “He had no authority to search that.”
“He has authority to examine every entity connected to Mercer Lodging.”
“Not my personal business.”
“It entered company accounts.”
“That does not make it his concern.”
“It makes it mine.”
Walter’s rigid posture broke for the first time. He stepped toward Ava, lowering his voice.
“Listen to me carefully. Do not start digging through old accounts because of a title problem that can be settled privately.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t understand what you’re looking at.”
“Then explain it.”
“Not in a parking lot.”
“Fine. Upstairs.”
“Not with Marcus present.”
“Marcus stays.”
Walter’s lips whitened. “He is an employee.”
“He’s also the only person here who told me the truth.”
Derek flinched as though she had struck him.
May you like
Ava saw it and felt no satisfaction.
They went upstairs. Marcus had ordered grilled cheese and soup for the children. Ethan sat cross-legged on one bed watching a muted nature program. Lily had lined three hotel notepads along the desk and was drawing floor plans of imaginary houses. She had always drawn rooms when anxious, arranging beds and doors into places where everyone could be accounted for.
