Chương 8
Nathan laughed quietly.
“No.”
“Then stop volunteering for it.”
His mother, Evelyn Cole, had spent most of Nathan’s adult life teaching him the social value of never appearing confused. She had raised him alone after his father left, built a real-estate brokerage before women in her market were routinely welcomed in the rooms where major deals were made, and regarded public embarrassment as something between a communicable disease and a moral failure.
Nathan said, “The kids loved Vanessa.”
Evelyn became quiet.
“What does that have to do with the board?”
“Nothing.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am.”
“Come here for dinner.”
“No.”
“Nathan.”
“I’m staying with them.”
“They can come.”
“No.”
His mother exhaled.
“You’re angry at me for something.”
Nathan looked down forty-three stories at taxis turning through an intersection.
“Ethan told me Vanessa made him feel like he was a problem every time he disagreed with her.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“You saw it.”
“I saw tension.”
“You saw more than I did.”
“You worked.”
“So did you.”
“That is not fair.”
“No.”
Nathan waited.
His mother said, “There were times I thought she was hard on him.”
“And?”
“And I thought you knew.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
Of course.
Everyone thought he knew.
That became the sentence he could not escape.
Rosa agreed to see him three weeks after the fall.
Daniela sent the message.
Ten minutes. No lawyer. No security.
Nathan arrived nine minutes early and waited in the hospital cafeteria because Daniela would not let him upstairs before the agreed time.
He bought coffee he did not want.
A man in scrubs argued quietly into his phone about daycare pickup. Two teenagers shared fries near the window. Someone had spilled sugar packets across a table and left them there.
Nathan found himself arranging the packets into a stack.
He stopped when he noticed what he was doing.
At eleven exactly Daniela came for him.
“You have ten minutes.”
“How is she?”
“Ask her.”
Rosa’s hair had been cut shorter around the bandaged section near her temple. Her left wrist was in a brace. Bruising had yellowed along one cheek.
She looked smaller in the hospital bed than Nathan had ever seen her.
That embarrassed him.
He had known her measurements for uniform fittings, her salary, her emergency contact, her vacation schedule.
He had never thought of her as small.
“Mr. Cole.”
“Nathan.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Fourteen years and now Nathan?”
He almost laughed.
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
Daniela pulled a chair toward the bed.
Rosa looked at her.
“You can leave.”
“I’m staying.”
“Daniela.”
“No.”
Rosa sighed.
“This one became my boss because I hit my head.”
Nathan sat.
He wanted to apologize.
The words he had rehearsed in the car sounded useless now.
Rosa saved him from them.
“The children?”
“Physically okay.”
“Ethan?”
“Angry.”
“Good.”
Nathan looked at her.
Rosa shrugged with her good shoulder.
“Angry is better than quiet for that boy.”
“Sophie doesn’t sleep alone.”
“She will.”
Nathan swallowed.
“Rosa, I’m sorry.”
She looked toward the window.
“I know.”
“I should have listened.”
“Yes.”
He waited for something more.
There was nothing more.
That hurt in a way anger would not have.
“Why didn’t you come to me again?”
Rosa looked back.
“I did.”
“When?”
“October.”
Nathan frowned.
“At the kitchen door. You were leaving.”
He searched.
Nothing.
“You said you had a car waiting.”
Still nothing.
“I told you the invoices were worse.”
A fragment appeared.
Rosa standing near the mudroom.
Nathan putting on a coat.
Vanessa calling from the foyer that they were late.
He had said, “Email accounting.”
Rosa had said, “I don’t trust accounting.”
Nathan had laughed.
Not at her.
At the absurdity, as he had understood it then.
“You did.”
Rosa watched his face.
“What?”
“You remember.”
Nathan looked down.
“Yes.”
Daniela shifted in her chair.
Rosa said, “I thought maybe I was wrong. Mrs. Cole told me I was becoming confused.”
Nathan’s head lifted.
“She said what?”
“That I had made mistakes. That I mixed bills. That I was tired. She asked if I wanted fewer hours.”
Daniela’s jaw tightened.
“She threatened your job.”
Rosa gave her daughter a look.
“She did not say that.”
“She implied it.”
“She implied many things.”
Nathan asked, “Why keep investigating?”
Rosa looked at him as though the question were stupid.
“Because it was stealing.”
“From me?”
“No.”
That landed harder than he expected.
“From scholarship money.”
Nathan said nothing.
Rosa adjusted the blanket over her knees.
“She used companies that charged the foundation for catering, transport, event design. Some were real companies. Some invoices were not real. I knew because I was in the house when things supposedly arrived.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else knew?”
“I think Mr. Mercer.”
Nathan’s body went still.
“Daniel Mercer?”
Rosa nodded.
Daniel Mercer had been the foundation’s volunteer treasurer for three years and Cole Meridian’s chief financial officer for nine.
Nathan felt something cold move through him.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“I am sure his name was on approvals. I am not sure what he knew.”
Nathan was grateful for the distinction.
He needed someone in the room to care about distinctions.
“What was in the blue folder?”
“Copies.”
“Of what?”
“Invoices. Vendor registrations. Printouts from the secretary of state website. Names.”
“Whose names?”
“One company belonged to Mrs. Cole’s brother.”
Nathan knew Vanessa’s younger brother, Ryan, owned a struggling event-production business in Boston.
“Another?”
Rosa hesitated.
Daniela leaned forward.
“Mom.”
“I told police.”
“Tell me,” Nathan said.
Rosa watched him.
“The mailing address belonged to Daniel Mercer’s wife.”
Nathan sat back.
The room became very quiet.
Rosa said, “I did not know if he was part of it.”
Nathan nodded.
“And yesterday?”
Rosa’s gaze changed.
She was no longer discussing paper.
“I told Mrs. Cole I would take the folder to you.”
“Why not police?”
“I did not know it was police yet.”
May you like
Fair.
“She told me I was making accusations I did not understand. She said Daniel could explain. I said I had already called him.”
