Chương 3
Clara stood without making a sound.
The knock came again, softer.
“Clara?”
It was Elise.
Clara opened the door.
Her aunt held two paper cups and wore a black raincoat over the dark-green dress. Her makeup had faded around the eyes. She looked older outside Marjorie’s candlelight.
“I brought coffee,” Elise said.
“It’s almost midnight.”
“I didn’t say it was good coffee.”
Clara stepped aside.
Elise entered, looked at the single bed, the bolted chair, and the framed print of a sailboat under a pink sunset.
“You could have stayed with me.”
“I didn’t want anyone involved.”
“That ship sailed around the time you put eight thousand dollars beside the turkey.”
Clara closed the door.
Elise placed one cup on the desk. “Richard left the house.”
Clara’s hand stopped near the lid of the other cup.
“Where did he go?”
“He drove away. Marjorie said he needed air. Serena said he was being dramatic, which was brave of her under the circumstances.”
“Did he take his phone?”
“Yes.”
“His coat?”
“No.”
Clara looked toward the rain-streaked window.
“He’ll come back.”
“Probably.”
Elise sat in the chair. “Daniel took Serena home. Half the relatives left without dessert. Mark tried to take a dinner roll in a napkin and dropped it in the foyer.”
Despite herself, Clara exhaled through her nose.
Elise watched her.
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“My niece. For a minute you were starting to look like a recruiting poster.”
Clara leaned against the desk. The coffee smelled scorched.
“Did you know?”
“That they rented? Yes.”
Clara’s eyes lifted.
“That I paid?”
“No.”
“When did you know?”
“Last Thanksgiving.”
Elise removed one pearl earring she had apparently forgotten belonged to Marjorie’s dress code for the evening. She rolled it between her fingers.
“I came early. Richard was at the kitchen counter signing something on Marjorie’s tablet. She told him it was the annual property paperwork. I saw the Cascade logo.”
“Did you ask?”
“I asked if they were buying the house. Marjorie said the ownership structure was complicated.”
“And you accepted that?”
“I accepted that she wanted me to stop asking.”
Clara looked down at her coffee.
Elise’s voice softened. “I should have called you.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
There was no defense in the answer, which made Clara angrier than an excuse might have.
Elise set the earring on the desk. “Richard knew they were renting, Clara.”
“He said he thought they owned it.”
“Richard knows many things he doesn’t permit himself to know.”
“You’re guessing.”
“I’ve known him since before you were born.”
“That doesn’t make you right.”
“No.” Elise looked toward the dark television. “It only makes me tired.”
Clara’s phone vibrated again. This time it was a text from Richard.
I’m at the office.
There had not been an office for eleven months. Vale Strategic Partners had surrendered its lease the previous winter. Richard still had access to a small coworking suite in Bellevue, where he met two remaining clients and received mail.
Clara called him.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Dad.”
“I found the lease.”
His voice sounded hollow, as if he were speaking from a large empty room.
“Which lease?”
“All of them.”
Clara sat on the bed.
Elise looked away.
Richard continued. “They were in Marjorie’s cloud folder. The ownership documents she showed me were there too, but they’re not—they aren’t recorded documents. They’re drafts. Proposals. I don’t know what they are.”
“Are you safe?”
“What?”
“Are you driving?”
“No. I’m at a desk.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“One glass of wine.”
“You had more than one.”
Silence.
Clara rubbed her thumb against the seam of her uniform pants.
“Send me the documents.”
“Your mother says you agreed to purchase the house.”
“I agreed to pay six months of rent.”
“She said your grandfather’s account was intended for the family.”
“It was left to me.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Another silence. This one contained movement: a drawer opening, papers sliding.
“I need to understand the numbers,” Richard said.
“You need to ask your wife.”
“She won’t answer me.”
“Then I can’t do it for her.”
“Clara, please.”
The word struck harder than Marjorie’s accusation at dinner. Richard rarely asked. He waited, remained dignified, and let other people interpret his needs as duties.
Clara closed her eyes.
“Send the files,” she said. “I’ll look at them in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“This doesn’t mean I’m restarting the payment.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Not yet, Clara thought.
She ended the call.
Elise studied the coffee in her hand.
“You’re going to help him.”
“I’m going to look at documents.”
“Those are different things in your vocabulary?”
“They should be.”
Elise gave a small, humorless smile. “That answer came from the Navy, not from this family.”
Clara looked at the phone beside her.
“No,” she said. “The Navy just taught me to say it out loud.”
Richard emailed forty-seven files at 1:16 in the morning.
Clara did not open them until after sunrise.
She slept badly, waking whenever tires hissed through water in the parking lot. At six, she showered, put on civilian clothes from the overnight bag in her truck, and stood in line behind two families at the motel’s breakfast counter.
The waffle machine was broken.
A little boy in dinosaur pajamas informed everyone who approached it.
“You can’t use that,” he told Clara. “It makes smoke.”
“Good watch.”
“My dad broke it.”
A man pouring cereal glanced over. “I did not break it.”
“You made the smoke.”
“That part is true.”
Clara took coffee and a bruised banana back to her room.
The first files Richard sent were obvious inventions.
May you like
Not forgeries, exactly. Marjorie had collected draft purchase agreements, online mortgage estimates, and a letter from a real estate attorney who had once discussed forming a family limited-liability company. None of the papers claimed that a sale had occurred. Arranged in a folder, renamed with dates, and described confidently, they could be made to resemble progress.
One spreadsheet was titled HOUSE EQUITY PLAN.
