Chương 4
“You could have mailed it.”
“He believed you might not open something from his office.”
“He was right.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“He suggested that.”
Maya looked at the envelope.
“Does his wife know you’re here?”
Daniel’s expression became unreadable.
“I represent Mr. Vale personally this morning.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“No.”
Maya considered him.
“What happened after I left?”
“I’m not sure I’m authorized—”
She started closing the door.
Daniel said, “Mrs. Vale admitted she had previously seen a photograph of the pendant.”
Maya stopped.
“Where?”
“She would not say.”
“Then you came here to tell me nothing.”
“I came here because Mr. Vale wants a DNA test.”
Janelle made a sound from the kitchen.
Daniel glanced past Maya.
Maya said, “He wants one?”
“He believes both of you deserve certainty.”
“That’s a very elegant way of saying he doesn’t believe the photograph.”
Daniel did not rush to correct her.
Maya noticed.
“Does he?”
“He believes there is a substantial possibility you are his biological daughter.”
“Substantial.”
“Ms. Reyes—”
“Tell him no.”
Daniel nodded once.
“All right.”
He turned.
Maya said, “Wait.”
He looked back.
“If I agree later, I choose the lab.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“Independent chain of custody.”
“Yes.”
“His office doesn’t handle my sample.”
“Agreed.”
“No press statement.”
“Agreed.”
“No one announces anything about me without my written permission.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Mr. Vale can control his office. He cannot fully control Mrs. Vale.”
Maya stared at him.
“Interesting marriage.”
Daniel looked tired suddenly.
“Yes.”
She closed the door.
Janelle stood in the kitchen holding two mugs.
“You know you’re going to do the test.”
Maya looked at her.
“I know.”
Two days later, Maya sat in a medical office in West Hollywood while a technician swabbed the inside of her cheek.
Richard Vale sat six feet away.
They had not spoken since the auction.
Maya had insisted on a neutral facility and separate appointments until the lab said that, for identity verification, both parties could complete collection in the same controlled session with identification documented by staff.
Richard arrived early.
Of course he did.
He wore a dark sweater instead of a suit. Without the architecture of expensive tailoring, he looked less like a billionaire and more like a tired man who had slept badly.
The technician labeled the collection kits while Maya watched.
Richard watched too.
When the woman stepped out with the sealed samples, silence settled between them.
There was a poster on the wall explaining inherited traits.
Maya wished someone would remove it.
Richard looked at the floor.
“I’m sorry about the auction.”
Maya said nothing.
“I should have stopped Victoria sooner.”
“You mean before or after she hit me?”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
“I wasn’t trying to be fair.”
“I know.”
Maya folded her arms.
Richard glanced at the door.
“I have a son.”
“I noticed.”
“Adrian.”
“I know his name.”
“He wants to speak to you.”
“I don’t.”
“All right.”
“He believes me?”
Richard rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger.
“I don’t know what Adrian believes right now.”
“Do you?”
Richard looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Before the test?”
“Yes.”
“Why bother?”
“Because belief is not a good foundation for what comes next.”
Maya let that sit between them.
“What comes next?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s the first sensible thing anyone in your family has said to me.”
Richard almost smiled.
It vanished quickly.
“Your mother,” he said. “How long ago did she die?”
“Fourteen months.”
His eyes dropped.
“Cancer?”
Maya’s head lifted.
Richard saw the change.
“No. I didn’t know. You said late mother at the auction and—”
“She had pancreatic cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t get to be.”
He inhaled.
Maya expected him to defend himself.
He didn’t.
She found that more difficult.
“She was fifty-four,” Maya said. “She hated hospitals. She liked diner coffee. She had this thing where she would buy expensive olive oil and then complain about the price every time she used it. She could keep a plant alive for ten years but killed every basil plant she touched.”
Richard looked at her.
Maya’s throat tightened.
She stopped.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“Because I asked.”
“No. You didn’t.”
He looked away.
“You’re right.”
The technician returned.
The moment closed.
Results would take several business days.
Richard stood.
“Maya.”
She waited.
“I did love her.”
The anger came so fast Maya almost enjoyed it.
“That sentence is for you.”
Richard’s face changed.
“What?”
“You said it because you needed me to know something about you.”
He stared at her.
Maya picked up her purse.
“My mother is dead. She doesn’t get anything from that sentence.”
She left him standing beneath the poster about inherited traits.
The result came four days later.
Maya opened it alone.
She had told Janelle she would call.
She had told herself she would wait until evening, after work, after she had eaten something, after she had cleared the dishes from the sink.
She opened it at 10:17 in the morning while standing barefoot beside her couch.
The report confirmed biological paternity.
Maya read the conclusion three times.
Then she put the phone down.
She walked into the kitchen.
She opened the refrigerator.
Nothing in it interested her.
She closed it.
Two minutes later she opened it again.
This time she took out a jar of mustard, stared at it, and put it back.
Her phone rang.
Richard.
She watched his name until the screen went dark.
It rang again.
She did not answer.
A text arrived.
I received the result. I will not release anything. I am here when you are ready.
Another text came forty seconds later.
I am sorry. That sounded like a press statement. I don’t know how to do this.
Maya sat down on the kitchen floor.
She laughed.
Then, unexpectedly, she cried.
Not hard.
No collapse.
Her eyes simply filled and would not stop.
May you like
She pressed the heels of her hands against them.
She thought about being eight years old and drawing a man beside her mother for a school family-tree assignment because the blank space embarrassed her.
