Chương 8
No.
Had he ever been authorized to solicit investments for Cross Family Capital?
No.
Had Evelyn discussed Harbor North?
Never by name.
Did she know investors besides Robert?
No.
Did she have any of Daniel’s documents?
No.
Was anything missing from the yacht?
Daniel claimed a blue drive was missing.
“Do not search for its contents,” Nina said.
“I told the crew to return it if found.”
“Good.”
“Vanessa says she has messages.”
“Do you have them?”
“No.”
“Keep it that way tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because you are furious, exhausted, and personally involved. Tomorrow, we decide who should collect what and why.”
Evelyn stared at the dark window.
“I’m not furious.”
Nina made a small sound.
“What?”
“You dropped your engagement ring into champagne.”
“How do you know that?”
“Ellen Keene texted me.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Wonderful.”
“She used three exclamation points, which is unlike her.”
“I hate everyone.”
“There. That’s closer.”
Evelyn pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“What do I do?”
“Tonight? Nothing public. Preserve your own records. Instruct your staff not to delete anything relevant. Do not accuse Daniel of a crime. Do not post. Do not let your mother post.”
“My mother is asleep.”
“Your mother has Instagram.”
“She barely knows how to use it.”
“That has never stopped anyone.”
Despite everything, Evelyn smiled.
Nina’s voice softened.
“Tomorrow we figure out whether this is a lying-boyfriend problem, an unauthorized-representation problem, an investor problem, or all three.”
“And Vanessa?”
“Do not make her your investigator.”
“I’m not.”
“Do not make her your friend either.”
“I definitely am not.”
“Good. Sleep.”
“You already said that.”
“I’m billing you every time I repeat myself.”
“Nina.”
“Yeah?”
Evelyn looked at the pale indentation around her finger.
“I really thought I was going to marry him.”
The line went quiet.
Not professionally quiet.
Friend quiet.
Nina had known Evelyn since college. She had attended Evelyn’s thirtieth birthday dinner. She had once thrown up in the back of Evelyn’s first car after a charity gala and spent seven years denying it.
When she spoke again, her voice was different.
“I know.”
Evelyn swallowed.
“I feel stupid.”
“I’m not answering that as your lawyer.”
“Answer it as my friend.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because tonight you’d argue with anything kind.”
That was true enough that Evelyn had no response.
Nina said, “Put the phone down.”
“All right.”
“I mean it.”
“Good night.”
“Night.”
Evelyn ended the call.
She stayed in the study until nearly three.
Then she carried the unopened ring envelope to her cabin and put it in the top drawer beside a packet of seasickness tablets she had never used.
The ordinary little packet nearly undid her.
Daniel got seasick.
Not badly.
Only when the yacht was at anchor in a cross swell.
He refused medication because it made him sleepy, so Evelyn kept ginger candies in every cabin they used.
There were three left in the drawer.
She threw them in the trash.
Then immediately took them back out because throwing away perfectly good candy felt ridiculous.
She sat on the edge of the bed holding them.
And finally, without sound, she cried.
Not for long.
Not beautifully.
Her nose ran.
One earring snagged in her hair.
She became irritated with it, took both earrings off, and put them on the nightstand.
At some point she noticed she was still holding the ginger candies.
She began laughing.
That made the crying worse.
By four, she slept.
At seven-thirty, someone was knocking.
Evelyn woke with a headache and one leg numb beneath the blanket.
For several seconds she had no idea where she was.
Then her hand moved across the sheet.
Empty.
Memory arrived all at once.
She sat up.
“Come in.”
The chief steward opened the door only enough to speak.
“Ms. Cross, apologies. Ms. Reed is at the marina office asking whether she may speak with you.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“Vanessa?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven thirty-two.”
“What is wrong with her?”
The steward considered this.
“I couldn’t say.”
Evelyn looked at the ceiling.
“Tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It took thirty-five.
Vanessa was sitting in a small private lounge beside the marina office when Evelyn arrived.
She had changed into jeans, a white blouse, and flat sandals. Her hair was pulled into a loose knot. Without the burgundy satin and diamonds, she looked like a woman waiting for a delayed flight.
The red pendant was gone.
A paper coffee cup sat untouched on the table.
Vanessa stood.
“I’m sorry to come here.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“I know.”
“Sit.”
They sat.
Evelyn had brought coffee from the yacht and already regretted it. Her stomach felt raw.
Vanessa pushed a small notebook across the table.
Evelyn did not touch it.
“What is that?”
“Nothing secret. Dates.”
“Dates of what?”
“Meetings I worked on.”
Evelyn looked at the notebook.
“I told you to keep your records.”
“These are my handwritten notes.”
“That makes them records.”
Vanessa pulled the notebook back.
“Fine.”
“Why are you here?”
Vanessa looked down at the coffee.
“Daniel called me until four in the morning.”
Evelyn felt a flash of irritation at how predictable that sounded.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted me to sign a statement.”
Evelyn’s attention sharpened.
“What statement?”
“That I understood the Cross references in the Harbor North materials were aspirational and that he never represented a formal commitment.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that isn’t what happened.”
Evelyn leaned back.
“Do you have the statement?”
“In my email.”
“Don’t send it to me.”
Vanessa looked frustrated.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I have counsel.”
“Great. I don’t.”
“Get counsel.”
“With what money?”
The answer came sharp enough to surprise them both.
Vanessa looked away.
Evelyn studied her.
“You were wearing a necklace worth more than my first car last night.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“That was borrowed.”
“From Daniel?”
“No. Showroom loan. For the dinner.”
Evelyn blinked.
May you like
Vanessa rubbed her eyes.
“I run a small branding consultancy. Small means six people when everyone is employed, four right now. Harbor North was supposed to be our biggest account this year.”
