Chương 11
“They were previously frozen.”
Maya stared at her.
Helen stared back.
“What happens if we refreeze them?”
“Civilization ends.”
“Okay.”
Helen made scallops.
Maya ate at the kitchen island with Wright because the formal dining room made her nervous.
Helen refused to sit until Maya told her she would eat cereal if Helen did not.
“That is manipulative,” Helen said.
“Yes.”
“You’ll fit in.”
They ate.
For almost fifteen minutes nobody discussed Grant, Victoria, lawsuits, assaults, deeds, or ownership.
Wright complained about his son’s middle-school science project.
Helen complained about a delivery company that kept leaving flowers at the wrong gate.
Maya learned the mansion had three dishwashers and one had been broken for eight months because the replacement panel had arrived in the wrong shade of white.
“White is white,” Maya said.
Helen looked horrified.
“No.”
Wright shook his head.
“You shouldn’t have said that.”
“What did I do?”
“There are twenty-six whites in this kitchen.”
“That is immoral.”
Helen pointed her fork at her.
“Now you understand.”
Maya laughed.
Her hip hurt when she laughed, but less than before.
After dinner, Wright drove home.
Two overnight guards took over.
Helen went to her apartment above the detached carriage house.
Maya stood alone in the lobby.
The chandelier had been dimmed.
Without people beneath it, the room looked less like a palace and more like a hotel after an event.
She walked upstairs slowly.
Her new key opened the primary bedroom.
She did not enter.
Victoria’s perfume still lingered there.
Suitcases had been removed, but dresses remained in the closet, cosmetics on the bathroom counter, photographs in silver frames.
This was not Maya’s bedroom.
Legal title could not make it one.
She closed the door.
She chose a guest room at the opposite end of the hall.
It contained a bed large enough for four people and curtains controlled by a switch Maya could not locate.
After five minutes she gave up and closed them by hand.
Her phone charger barely reached the nightstand.
That pleased her.
Something in the mansion was inconvenient in a normal way.
She changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt from the duffel bag she had brought.
Then she lay down.
She lasted eleven minutes.
Every sound woke some new question.
A vent clicked.
A pipe knocked.
A guard’s radio murmured downstairs.
At 10:17, Maya got up for water.
On the landing she stopped.
The door to Grant’s blue office stood at the far end of the corridor.
Closed.
Rachel had told her not to enter.
Maya did not.
She walked past it.
Then back.
Then past it again.
“Ridiculous,” she muttered.
She went downstairs.
Helen had left a glass pitcher of water in the refrigerator with lemon slices floating inside.
Maya poured some.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Maya?”
Victoria.
Maya gripped the counter.
“How did you get this number?”
“You had the same number when you worked for the company.”
“Of course.”
Another silence.
Maya looked toward the hallway.
“What do you want?”
“My blue bedroom closet.”
“What about it?”
“There’s a jewelry case behind the lower drawer.”
Maya frowned.
“I’m not going into your bedroom.”
“I forgot it.”
“Tell your attorney.”
“I don’t want my attorney involved.”
“That sentence makes me definitely want your attorney involved.”
Victoria exhaled.
“It contains my mother’s jewelry.”
“Then email Rachel.”
“I don’t trust her.”
“She’s my lawyer. You’re not supposed to.”
“I don’t trust Martin either.”
Maya leaned against the island.
“That seems like a larger problem.”
Victoria ignored it.
“There’s also an envelope.”
“What envelope?”
A pause.
“Personal.”
“Then it waits until the inventory.”
“No.”
Maya’s heartbeat changed.
“Why?”
“Because I need it.”
“What is it?”
“Something Grant gave me.”
Maya closed her eyes.
“Victoria, if this is about his office—”
“It isn’t in his office.”
“What’s in the envelope?”
Silence.
“Victoria?”
“Proof that I tried.”
Maya opened her eyes.
“To do what?”
The line went quiet except for faint hotel-room sound.
Air conditioning, maybe.
Then Victoria said, “Stop him.”
Maya did not move.
“Stop Grant?”
“Yes.”
“From what?”
“You know from what.”
“No. I don’t.”
“You think you know everything because lawyers gave you emails.”
“I know he fired me after I reported diverted employee funds.”
“I know.”
Maya’s hand tightened around the phone.
“You knew.”
“I knew later.”
“When?”
“After you were fired.”
“How long after?”
Victoria did not answer.
Maya’s voice sharpened.
“How long?”
“Three days.”
Maya stared at the black window over the sink.
Three days.
The company had fought her for seventeen months on the premise that she had misunderstood internal accounting.
Victoria had known within three days that she had not.
“You knew.”
“I just told you.”
“And you let them call me a liar.”
“I never called you a liar.”
“You knew what everyone else was saying.”
“I was trying to keep the company from collapsing.”
Maya laughed.
It came out ugly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The excuse.”
“It isn’t an excuse.”
“It sounds exactly like one.”
“Grant had pledged company shares against debt. Banks were nervous. The board was panicking. If the reserve problem became public before they understood the exposure—”
“Employees’ money was used.”
“I know.”
“My father’s money.”
“I know.”
“You do not get to say that like it hurts you.”
Victoria went quiet.
Maya’s breathing had become shallow.
She forced herself to slow down.
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because the envelope contains correspondence with Grant.”
“What kind?”
“Letters.”
“Why letters?”
“He stopped answering my messages.”
Maya almost laughed.
“That is the most Grant Sterling thing I’ve ever heard.”
Victoria surprised her by saying, “Yes.”
They were quiet.
Maya pictured her in the hotel suite.
Without the mansion around her, Victoria’s voice sounded different.
Still sharp.
Less armored.
“Were the letters produced in discovery?” Maya asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They were personal.”
“If they discussed the funds, they weren’t only personal.”
“I know that now.”
“Your lawyers would’ve asked.”
“They didn’t know.”
May you like
“Victoria.”
“I kept them.”
