Chương 5
“That is a legal answer.”
“It’s also mine.”
Daniel considered arguing. Instead, he placed the blue folder on the desk again.
“Your outside counsel will be here at eight. The accountant is joining remotely at eight-thirty. The bank’s review team wants a call by ten.”
Nora lowered herself into the chair Evelyn had vacated.
The leather was still warm.
Daniel righted the crystal tumbler and moved it away from the edge of the table. He used a clean napkin to absorb the remaining whiskey.
“You don’t have to do that,” Nora said.
“I need something to do with my hands.”
She looked at him.
His calm professional manner had hidden strain for weeks, but not erased it. He had worked for Ellison Family Holdings for five years. James had recruited him from a midsize trust administration firm and often called him the only competent person under fifty in Connecticut.
“How much did you know?” Nora asked.
Daniel stopped blotting the table.
“Not enough.”
“That isn’t an answer either.”
“No.”
He folded the wet napkin into a square.
“Last year, James asked me to expedite a renewal packet. He said you were traveling and the original signature page had already been approved by outside counsel. I sent the packet to records without checking the file history.”
“Why?”
“He was my supervisor.”
“That didn’t make the signature real.”
“I know.”
“Did you notice anything?”
“The page alignment was different. I told myself it had been scanned separately.”
Nora felt anger rise, sharp and welcome.
“You told yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Because it was convenient.”
“Yes.”
He did not defend himself. That made it harder to stay angry in the simple way she wanted.
Daniel looked toward the fireplace.
“Three months later, I found duplicate vendor codes linked to Rowland Strategic Services. I asked James. He said the controller had approved them. The controller said James had. I began preserving copies after that.”
“You could have told me.”
“I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Daniel’s answer took time.
“Because I liked my job,” he said. “Because my daughter had just started college. Because James had promoted me. Because I wasn’t sure whether I was looking at fraud or the kind of family accounting wealthy people call flexibility. Because once I admitted I had helped process the renewal, I was afraid no one would believe I hadn’t known.”
Nora watched the fire settle behind the grate.
There it was: not loyalty, not conspiracy, not innocence. A human arrangement of fear and self-interest.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because you came into my office and asked why your signature had been attached to a file you had never seen.”
“That could have been another inconvenience.”
“It was.”
Nora looked at him.
Daniel gave a tired, humorless smile.
“I finally became more afraid of what would happen if I stayed quiet.”
Upstairs, a door closed hard enough to vibrate through the paneling.
Nora looked toward the ceiling.
Daniel followed her gaze.
“I can stay in the hall tonight,” he said.
“No. Go home.”
“I don’t think—”
“Your daughter is home from college.”
He blinked. “How did you know?”
“You mentioned it to Mae.”
“I didn’t realize you heard.”
“I hear more than people think.”
Daniel looked almost embarrassed.
Nora added, “Be here at seven-thirty.”
“I will.”
He took the folder and left through the library doors.
Nora remained in Evelyn’s chair after the house grew quiet.
Mae brought a needle, white thread, and a small sewing kit from the laundry room. She sat on the sofa and held out her hand.
“Blouse.”
“I’m still wearing it.”
“That is why the cardigan has buttons.”
Nora stood, went to the powder room, and returned wearing only the cardigan above her trousers. She handed Mae the blouse inside out.
Mae examined the torn seam.
“This was altered badly,” she said.
“It was tailored in Manhattan.”
“People do bad work in Manhattan.”
Mae threaded the needle without wetting the end, a skill Nora had never mastered. Her fingers moved steadily.
Nora sat opposite her.
“Did everyone see?”
“Yes.”
Nora absorbed the answer.
Mae continued sewing.
“Some people saw marks,” she said. “Some saw gossip. Some saw what they already suspected. People don’t become wise just because the room gets quiet.”
“I should have covered them.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want—”
Nora stopped.
Mae looked up. “You didn’t want them to know, or you didn’t want them to look?”
“Both.”
“That’s fair.”
The simple permission loosened something in Nora’s throat.
Mae tied off the thread.
“Your grandmother used to split seams whenever she was angry,” she said.
“That makes no sense.”
“She carried tension in her shoulders. Also, she refused to buy anything one size larger than she wore at thirty-five.”
Nora laughed once.
Mae smiled at the blouse.
“She would have hated tonight.”
“She would have hated Evelyn.”
“She did hate Evelyn.”
“She invited her every Christmas.”
“Your grandmother was complicated.”
Mae handed the blouse back.
The repair was visible if one looked closely. Tiny white stitches crossed the inside seam, imperfect but secure.
Nora ran her finger over them.
“You should sleep,” Mae said.
“I have meetings at eight.”
“Then you should fail to sleep in a bed instead of succeeding at it in a chair.”
Nora went upstairs at two in the morning.
James’s clothes had been removed from the dressing room. His side of the bathroom counter was empty except for a water ring beneath the place where his electric razor had stood. The absence looked temporary, like a hotel room between guests.
Nora locked the bedroom door.
She placed a chair beneath the handle, then sat on the floor and stared at it.
It was an irrational precaution. The door was solid, the lock worked, and Mae had placed two security staff members in the east corridor. James had not approached Nora’s room. He had not raised his voice again.
May you like
Still, she left the chair where it was.
Sleep came in fragments. At four-twenty, she woke because a branch touched the window. At five-ten, she checked the account alerts on her phone. At six, she gave up and showered.
