Chương 4
Vanessa saw her before Daniel did.
The rest was already spreading across the internet.
By 12:40 a.m., Emily was home.
She carried Lily upstairs, removed the little silver tiara, and placed it on the dresser.
Lily woke when Emily tried to change her dress.
“Are we home?”
“Yes.”
“Did Daddy call?”
“Yes.”
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
Lily considered that.
“Are you going to?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Emily found one of Lily’s oversized sleep shirts and pulled it over her head.
Lily yawned.
“Mommy?”
“Hmm?”
“Did Daddy really sell his hotel to me?”
Emily sat on the edge of the bed.
There it was.
The consequence of choosing a dramatic sentence in a room full of phones.
“Not exactly.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said.”
“Was it a lie?”
Emily rubbed her forehead.
“No. But it was... simplified.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means grown-ups make paperwork unnecessarily difficult.”
Lily frowned.
“Do I have a hotel?”
“You have an interest in a company that controls a hotel.”
Lily stared at her.
Emily sighed.
“Yes. Sort of.”
“Can I have a swimming pool?”
“The hotel already has one.”
“Can I swim in it?”
“Probably.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
Lily seemed offended by the limitations of corporate ownership.
Emily tucked the blanket around her.
“Go to sleep.”
“Can Ava come to my hotel?”
“Lily.”
“Okay.”
Emily kissed her forehead.
At the door, Lily called, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want Daddy to be sad.”
Emily kept her hand on the light switch.
“I know.”
“He looked sad.”
“I know.”
“Do you hate him?”
The easy answer would have been no.
The cruel answer would have been yes.
The truthful answer had no place in a six-year-old’s bedroom.
“I love you,” Emily said.
Lily frowned.
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
Apparently Thomas Carter had survived in the bloodline after all.
Emily turned off the light.
In the kitchen she poured a glass of water, took two ibuprofen, and finally opened the envelope.
There were three items inside.
The first was a letter from Thomas.
The second was a notarized memorandum addressed to the trustee.
The third was a photograph.
Emily looked at the photograph first.
Daniel was twenty-nine.
She was twenty-seven.
Lily was an infant asleep against Daniel’s chest.
The picture had been taken at Thomas’s house in Connecticut. Emily remembered the afternoon because Daniel had complained that his father’s air-conditioning was too cold and then spent forty minutes refusing to give Lily back to anyone.
He had loved holding her when she was tiny.
That was one of the facts Emily sometimes wished she could erase.
It would have made hating him cleaner.
On the back, Thomas had written a date.
Below it:
Ask Daniel about November 14.
Emily read it twice.
Then she unfolded the letter.
Emily—
If you are reading this, I am dead, which is inconvenient because you will have questions and I have always disliked answering them.
She almost laughed.
Almost.
The letter continued.
There is something Daniel should have told you years ago. I gave him the opportunity. I also gave him too many opportunities in general, which may be the most accurate summary of my failures as a father.
What happened on November 14 did not begin with Daniel, but what he did afterward belongs to him.
You deserve the truth.
More importantly, Lily may someday need it.
Do not assume the worst until you read the memorandum.
Do not assume the best either.
—Thomas
Emily set the letter down.
November 14.
Six years earlier.
Lily had been four months old.
Emily went to the refrigerator, opened it, stared inside, then closed it without taking anything.
Her phone rang.
Daniel.
This time she answered.
Neither spoke at first.
Then Daniel said, “Is Lily okay?”
The question irritated her because it was the correct question.
“She’s asleep.”
“I saw the video.”
“You were there.”
“I saw how it looks online.”
“She got hit because I was holding her when Vanessa hit me.”
“Vanessa didn’t hit Lily.”
“I know.”
“I’m not defending it.”
“You just did.”
“No. Emily, I’m trying to—”
He stopped.
She heard him breathe.
In the background, someone was talking rapidly. Vanessa, probably.
Daniel moved somewhere quieter.
“What’s in the envelope?”
“A letter.”
“From my father?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
“Why November fourteenth?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
Emily sat down.
“Daniel.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Your father.”
“He’s dead.”
“Thank you. I had missed that development.”
“Emily.”
She had not meant to be funny.
Daniel’s breathing changed.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Is Lily there?”
“Obviously.”
“Don’t read anything else tonight.”
Emily looked at the memorandum.
“Why?”
“Because my father was sick.”
“He was sick. He wasn’t confused.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I spent eleven months working with him.”
“You spent eleven months helping him take my company.”
“Your company was three months from default.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.”
“No. The point is that my father spent the end of his life punishing me and recruited my ex-wife to do it.”
Emily felt the old reflex arrive: the urge to defend herself against Daniel’s version of reality.
For years she had exhausted herself doing that.
Tonight she let the silence sit.
Daniel filled it.
“What did he tell you about November fourteenth?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
The word was too quick.
Emily looked at the photograph again.
“Daniel.”
“Don’t.”
“What happened?”
“I said don’t.”
“And I stopped taking orders from you three years ago.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t do this on the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because Lily is involved.”
Emily’s fingers tightened around the memorandum.
“How?”
“I’ll come over.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
“Then meet me somewhere.”
“Tomorrow. Rachel’s office. Ten.”
“I don’t want lawyers there.”
“That sounds like a reason to have lawyers there.”
“This isn’t legal.”
“You don’t get to decide that before I know what it is.”
He swore quietly.
May you like
Then she heard Vanessa’s voice more clearly.
“Daniel, are you seriously talking to her?”
