Chương 2
“Not yet,” Evelyn said.
Mara nodded and stepped away.
On the cabinet across from Evelyn sat a square crystal decanter filled with amber whisky and one heavy cut-crystal tumbler. The decanter had been on the jet for years. Evelyn’s father had preferred bourbon, but after he died, the cabin service company had replaced it with Scotch because someone misunderstood a handwritten note. Evelyn had never corrected them.
She poured a small amount.
Her hand remained steady until the neck of the decanter touched the rim of the glass. Then the crystal clicked twice.
The engine began its low mechanical hum.
Evelyn lifted the tumbler but did not drink. Her face floated faintly in the black window: the smooth low bun, the pale skin, the redness spreading across her left cheek, two tear tracks that made her look both younger and more exhausted.
Mara returned to secure the cabin.
“Flight time is thirty-eight minutes.”
Evelyn continued looking at her reflection.
“Take me somewhere he can’t follow,” she whispered.
Mara looked as if she might answer, then decided not to.
The jet remained on the ground for another seven minutes while the pilots completed their checks. By the time it began to taxi, Evelyn understood that there was no such destination. Julian could follow her through lawyers, bank accounts, board members, newspapers, mutual friends, and the part of her mind that still anticipated his displeasure before making ordinary decisions.
She took one sip of whisky.
It tasted like smoke and somebody else’s preference.
Her phone had been vibrating inside her evening bag since she boarded. She removed it only when the estate disappeared beneath the wing.
There were thirty-one messages.
The first twelve were from people still inside the house.
Are you all right?
I am so sorry.
I didn’t know what to do.
Please call me.
I saw everything.
The next six were from Beatrice.
Evelyn, answer me.
He should not have done that.
Please do not make any decisions tonight.
We can manage this privately.
Think about the foundation.
Please.
Julian had sent four messages.
Come back.
You know what tonight meant.
Do not turn this into something it wasn’t.
Call me before you make it worse.
The last message came from Naomi Feld, Evelyn’s attorney.
I heard there was an incident. Do not respond to anyone. Call me when you are physically safe.
Evelyn read that one twice.
Physically safe.
The phrase seemed both too dramatic and not dramatic enough. She was sitting in a private jet with a glass of whisky, diamond-and-emerald earrings, and a woman warming a linen cloth for her cheek. She was not running barefoot down a highway. She was not hiding in a locked bathroom. Nothing in the scene resembled the images people associated with danger.
Yet when Julian had lifted his hand, some part of her had recognized the moment before it happened.
That was what frightened her.
She called Naomi.
Her attorney answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“In the air.”
“Whose aircraft?”
“Mine.”
A pause followed. Naomi had represented Evelyn for nine years, beginning with her father’s estate. She was one of the few people who understood what the word mine meant in Evelyn’s life.
“Is Julian with you?”
“No.”
“Are you injured?”
“My cheek is red.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“No.”
“Any ringing in your ears? Dizziness? Vision changes?”
“No.”
“Did anyone witness it?”
“About three hundred people.”
Naomi exhaled. “That does not always make things easier.”
Evelyn looked down at the untouched whisky. “I know.”
“What happened before he hit you?”
“I refused to sign the grant authorization.”
“The forty-million-dollar pledge?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the money isn’t there.”
This silence lasted longer.
Naomi’s voice changed. “What do you mean?”
“The foundation’s liquid reserves are seventeen million. There are restricted gifts, but they can’t be used for the hospital project. Julian wanted me to approve a bridge transfer from the Vale Arts Endowment.”
“You cannot do that.”
“I told him.”
“Did he threaten you before the gala?”
“He said I was confused. Then he said I was tired. Then he said the accountants had already reviewed it.”
“Had they?”
“The controller resigned this morning.”
Naomi swore softly.
Evelyn leaned her head against the seat, then moved when the leather pressed her cheek. “I found the resignation letter in the printer at the foundation office. It was addressed to Julian. She wrote that she would not participate in reclassifying restricted assets.”
“Do you have it?”
“I took a photograph.”
“Only a photograph?”
“The original was gone when I went back.”
“Who knew you saw it?”
“Julian.”
“How?”
“I asked him about it.”
Naomi was quiet again.
The jet turned, and the lights of New York spread beneath them.
“Listen carefully,” Naomi said. “Do not delete anything. Do not answer Julian. Do not speak to the press, the board, his mother, or anyone connected to the foundation until we know what exists. When you land, go directly to the Beacon Street house.”
“I haven’t lived there in years.”
“It has security and no Mercer employees.”
“There’s a housekeeper.”
“Employed by Larkspur?”
“Yes.”
“Then call her. Have her change the entry codes before you arrive.”
Evelyn almost laughed. The sound came out wrong.
“What?”
“I don’t know the current codes.”
“That is not funny.”
“I know.”
“Evelyn.”
“I’m listening.”
“You need medical documentation.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You were struck in public by a man who may already be trying to move money you control. This is not the night to protect his dignity.”
Evelyn watched the wing light blink against the darkness.
“I’m not protecting him.”
Naomi did not answer immediately.
The fact that she did not answer felt more honest than reassurance.
May you like
At the Mercer estate, Julian remained beneath the chandelier for nearly a minute after Evelyn left.
The guests watched him without appearing to watch. A server moved toward a side table, then stopped because the path would have taken him too close. The quartet’s first violinist lowered her bow.
