Chương 6
“No mention of Julian,” Mara said.
“He’s vice chair of the board,” Rebecca replied. “They aren’t going to identify him as the problem until they know whether the board agrees.”
“He assaulted me on video.”
“That makes the problem visible. It does not automatically make powerful people brave.”
An hour later, Julian posted a statement.
He called the incident a private misunderstanding recorded without context. He expressed regret for participating in a moment of poor judgment and asked the public to respect the privacy of his family, especially a young child.
Mara read it twice.
“He used Owen,” she said.
Rebecca held out her hand for the phone.
“Don’t respond yet.”
“He used my son to ask people not to look at what he did.”
“I see that.”
“He called it participation.”
“I see that too.”
Mara walked to the window.
Below, a delivery driver argued with someone over a parking space. A bus moved through the intersection, carrying an advertisement for the Vale Regent Hotel.
The company’s crest covered half its side.
At six, August called.
Rebecca placed the phone on speaker.
“Mara,” August said. “How are you?”
The question sounded sincere. That made it more difficult.
“I’m safe.”
“I’m relieved.”
“Are you?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Rebecca wrote something on a legal pad.
August continued. “I have suspended Julian from his operational responsibilities pending review.”
“Operational responsibilities,” Mara repeated.
“He will not enter any Vale property where you or Owen are present.”
“Did you know about another woman?”
Silence extended across the line.
Rebecca looked up.
August said, “I would prefer to have this conversation in person.”
“That is the second time you’ve avoided the question.”
“I am not avoiding it. I am refusing to discuss a sensitive allegation over an unsecured telephone line.”
“So there was an allegation.”
Another pause.
“Mara, I am trying to protect everyone involved.”
“From what?”
“From careless language that cannot be withdrawn.”
She stared at the phone.
“Julian put my face into a cake in front of eight people.”
“Yes.”
“Your concern is careless language?”
“My concern is that actions taken in the first hours after a crisis often produce damage beyond the crisis itself.”
“To whom?”
August exhaled.
“I would like to meet tomorrow. You may bring Ms. Shaw.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows rose.
Mara said, “Where?”
“My office.”
“No.”
“All right. Choose somewhere.”
They agreed to meet in a private conference room at Rebecca’s firm.
Before ending the call, August said, “Mara, I am sorry.”
She waited.
He added nothing.
That night, Owen refused dinner.
He sat cross-legged on the hotel bed and pushed crackers into a line.
“Can you eat one?” Mara asked.
“No.”
“Half?”
“No.”
“What about an apple?”
“No.”
Nina, who had returned with clean clothes and a toothbrush shaped like a shark, held up the peanut butter jar.
“I could make a terrible sculpture.”
Owen looked at her.
“What kind?”
“A bear. Probably. It may become a potato.”
He allowed her to put peanut butter on one cracker. Then another.
When a commercial showed a birthday cake, he dropped the cracker and covered his eyes.
Mara turned off the television.
Owen’s breathing changed.
She knelt in front of him.
“Hey. Look at me.”
He shook his head.
She waited.
Finally he lowered his hands.
“Is Julian going to put you in another cake?” he asked.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m not going back to him.”
“He said sorry on your phone.”
Mara looked toward the nightstand. She had not realized Owen could hear the voicemail.
“Sometimes people say sorry because they want everything to go back to the way it was.”
“Isn’t that what sorry means?”
“Sometimes. But a real apology doesn’t ask the other person to pretend nothing happened.”
Owen picked at the edge of the blanket.
“Do I have to see him?”
“No.”
“What about my dinosaurs?”
“We’ll get them without seeing him.”
He leaned closer.
“Can I sleep by you?”
“Yes.”
Mara lay awake long after Owen’s breath became slow and warm against her shoulder.
At two in the morning, she listened to Julian’s remaining messages.
In the seventh, he cried.
In the eighth, he blamed the champagne.
In the ninth, he said August had always wanted to turn Mara against him.
In the tenth, he reminded her that the foundation’s housing committee had made an exception for Owen’s school support and that public scandal could make administrators reconsider their association with the family.
The threat was wrapped inside concern.
Mara saved the messages to a folder and sent copies to Rebecca.
At the end of the eleventh message, Julian said, “You know how hard I’ve tried with him.”
He did not say Owen’s name.
Mara deleted nothing.
August arrived at Rebecca’s firm at ten the next morning with one attorney and no security.
He carried his cane but used it less heavily than he had at the estate. His suit was charcoal rather than black. He declined water, sat across from Mara, and placed a slim blue folder on the table.
Rebecca opened the meeting.
“My client has not agreed to confidentiality.”
August nodded. “Understood.”
“Anything you say may be used in connection with her employment, criminal complaint, or other legal action.”
“Also understood.”
Mara looked at the folder.
“Who was she?”
August’s attorney shifted.
August rested his hands on the table.
“Her name was Claire Donnelly.”
The name did not mean anything to Mara at first.
Then she remembered a photograph in Julian’s study, turned facedown in a drawer she had opened while looking for a charger. Julian had taken the frame from her hand and said it showed a former employee who had stolen from the company.
“Did she work for you?”
“She worked in guest relations at the Chicago Regent.”
“What happened?”
“In 2019, she alleged that Julian grabbed her during an argument in a hotel service corridor.”
“Grabbed her how?”
“By the arm.”
“Did he?”
August’s eyes lowered.
May you like
“The security recording did not include the entire corridor.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
