Part 12
“I planned to confront Daniel.”
“He wasn’t home.”
“He was supposed to return tomorrow.”
“Exactly.”
The word hung between them.
Daniel looked at Veronica and understood why her first words to him had been You should not have come home early.
Not surprise at an interrupted argument.
Fear that the person whose files she meant to empty had arrived before she could leave.
“Where is the acknowledgment?” Daniel asked.
“I put it back.”
“Ruth checked this morning. You entered afterward. Now it is gone.”
“I put it back.”
“You tore off the note and threw it away.”
“Yes.”
“Why keep the rest?”
“Because it also explains what Howard did.”
“It explains what you did.”
“And what you did.”
Daniel waited.
Veronica pressed her fingers to her temple.
“I put it beneath the tray.”
Ruth lifted the sewing basket again. “It is not there.”
“Then someone else took it.”
“There is no one else,” Claire said.
Veronica looked at the balcony.
Daniel followed the direction of her eyes.
Below them, the terrace extended toward the lake. A service path curved behind the hedges to the boathouse. Near the base of the wall stood a copper downspout with a hinged maintenance cleanout.
Daniel went to the railing.
The downspout cap was open.
He turned.
Veronica stepped backward.
“Where did you put it?”
“I panicked.”
“You put paper in the drain?”
“In a plastic sleeve.”
“Why?”
“I needed to leave the room without it.”
“You could have kept it in your robe.”
“Ruth was in the hall.”
“So?”
“She would have seen it.”
“You were wearing a coat this morning.”
Veronica looked at him.
Daniel remembered the bruise on her forearm, the loosened satin belt, the evening dress. He had assumed she had returned from the previous night’s event without changing. In truth, she had dressed for entry. A robe looked harmless inside a house. It also lacked pockets.
“You hid it in the downspout,” he said, “intending to retrieve it from the terrace.”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Claire saw me.”
Claire frowned. “When?”
“When you were by the lake.”
“I wasn’t by the lake.”
“This afternoon. Near the boathouse.”
“I was in town until two.”
Veronica stared at her.
Ruth whispered, “That was me.”
They turned.
“I walked to the boathouse after lunch,” Ruth said. “The delivery man left a package there by mistake.”
Daniel remembered the parcel on the kitchen bench, unopened.
Veronica had seen a woman in a blue cardigan near the path and assumed Claire’s pale sweater beneath the trees.
“You thought Claire had watched you hide it,” Daniel said.
“I thought she would find it.”
“So you contacted her.”
“I had already emailed her.”
“You told her to look in my office instead.”
“I needed to know whether you had moved the amendment.”
“You could have gone back for the acknowledgment.”
“Ruth was downstairs.”
“Ruth is always downstairs.”
“Yes.”
Ruth’s expression flickered. Despite everything, Daniel almost smiled.
Claire moved toward the balcony.
“The paper may still be in the downspout.”
Daniel caught her elbow.
“You are not climbing over the railing.”
“There are stairs at the end.”
“We go inside.”
She pulled free.
“Stop grabbing me.”
Daniel lowered his hand.
“Inside,” he said.
Claire looked at the open balcony, then at him. She went through the room without another word.
They returned to the main staircase and crossed the living room. The emergency lights had dimmed. Outside, evening settled over the lake. The house reflected itself in the windows now, making every movement appear doubled.
Daniel unlocked the terrace door.
Cold air smelled of wet earth and smoke from the ruined rug.
They walked along the wall to the downspout. Daniel opened the maintenance cap.
Inside was mud, leaves, and a transparent plastic sleeve wedged beyond reach.
He went to the utility room for pliers.
When he returned, Claire was crouched beside the pipe. Veronica stood several feet away, watched by Ruth.
“Move back,” Daniel said.
Claire did, though her expression made it clear she considered the instruction unnecessary.
Daniel gripped the sleeve with the pliers and drew it out.
Two cream pages showed through the plastic.
Ruth closed her eyes.
Veronica crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
Daniel opened the sleeve.
The first page began with Howard’s name and the date. The language was plain, not legal. Howard acknowledged authorizing Veronica to raise money connected to the north-shore development and admitted using part of those funds to support foundation operations. He said he had directed the two-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer to protect investors from losses caused by his decisions.
The second page described the amendment.
Veronica would receive lifetime use of the west wing and an annual payment only if she repaid the full transfer to Howard’s estate within twelve months. If she could not, the trustees were directed to negotiate reasonable housing support reflecting her service during his illness, but no permanent interest in the property.
Below that, Howard had written another paragraph.
Daniel read it twice.
I have told Daniel enough for him to understand that the foundation benefited from money it should not have taken, though I did not give him names or figures. He will say that means he did not know. Veronica will say she acted under my instruction. Ruth will say keeping peace was not her responsibility. Each statement will be true and insufficient.
Claire read over his shoulder.
Ruth looked toward the lake.
Veronica said, “Give it to me.”
Daniel folded the pages into the sleeve.
“No.”
“It concerns me.”
“It concerns all of us.”
“It is Howard’s explanation.”
“It is evidence.”
Veronica stepped closer.
Daniel did not move.
For a moment he saw the earlier scene gathering itself again: her raised hands, Claire behind him, Ruth frozen nearby. But Veronica stopped an arm’s length away.
“What happens when you turn that over?” she asked.
“The truth becomes someone else’s decision.”
“You mean lawyers.”
“Yes.”
“Trustees who will blame me.”
“Perhaps.”
“And you.”
May you like
“Yes.”
“They will destroy the foundation to protect themselves.”
