Chương 6
“Adrian has never come here.”
“Do you think he will?”
“No.”
She answered too quickly.
Graham rubbed his beard. “Take a few days.”
“I don’t want a few days.”
“What do you want?”
Elena opened the bid packet.
“I want the stone subcontractor to explain why labor increased fourteen percent.”
Graham stared at her, then laughed once.
“All right. But if a reporter reaches the reception desk, I am sending them your way with the change-order logs.”
The ordinary work steadied her. Numbers behaved according to rules, even when contractors did not. A delivery arrived late. Someone jammed the copier. At lunch, Elena ate yogurt over a spreadsheet and tried not to search her own name.
At three, the receptionist called.
“There’s a woman here to see you. Claire Whitmore.”
Elena stood so quickly her chair struck the wall.
Claire waited in the conference room wearing black trousers, a cream sweater, and no makeup. Her blonde hair was pulled into a low knot similar to the bridal bun from the night before, but without pins or flowers it looked younger, almost severe.
A man in a dark suit waited outside the room.
“My father’s attorney,” Claire said. “He thinks I shouldn’t speak to you alone.”
“Is he going to stop you?”
“No. He just wants me to see him failing.”
Elena sat across from her.
For several seconds, neither woman spoke.
The conference room contained samples of limestone, brick, and mortar arranged along one wall. Claire touched a square of pale stone with one finger.
“What is this?”
“Indiana limestone.”
“Is that important?”
“Not usually.”
Claire nodded.
It was the first ordinary thing between them.
“I saw the records,” she said.
Elena waited.
“The court searches. The forged judgment. The messages where he promised you the filing would be completed.”
“Yes.”
“He sent me the same judgment with a different cover page.”
Elena looked up.
“Different how?”
“It was addressed to him from a law office. I called the office this morning. They have never represented him.”
“What did he say?”
“He said a broker introduced him to someone who used that office’s name.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
The answer came without drama.
Claire looked down at her hands. A faint line circled the base of her left ring finger where the engagement ring had been.
“He asked me to invest in his company.”
“How much?”
Claire’s mouth tightened. “Enough that my father is pretending not to panic.”
“Did you?”
“I transferred it six weeks ago.”
Elena thought of Adrian complaining about daycare. She thought of the unpaid electric bill he had blamed on automatic payment errors. She thought of the black car that had waited outside the estate.
“Did he use any of it for the wedding?”
“My father paid for the wedding.”
“Of course.”
Claire almost smiled. “You can say it.”
“I was going to say that explains the flowers.”
“There were too many flowers.”
“There were enough flowers to hide a small orchestra.”
“There was a small orchestra.”
They both laughed, and then Claire began crying.
She turned her face away immediately. The crying was quiet, inconvenient, and made her angry. She pressed the heel of her hand beneath one eye.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I hate crying in front of people.”
“So do I.”
“Did you cry last night?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Elena considered lying.
“I think I was enjoying myself too much.”
Claire lowered her hand.
Elena forced herself to continue. “Not your pain. His fear. I wanted him to have nowhere to move. I wanted everyone to see him before he could explain me away.”
“That is not the same as wanting me hurt.”
“No. But I knew you would be.”
Claire looked at the limestone samples again.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“It doesn’t make it better.”
“No. It makes it less polished.”
Elena understood.
Claire folded her hands on the table. “My father wants a private settlement. Adrian returns the money, signs something, and disappears.”
“Does he have the money?”
“We don’t know.”
“He may never have kept it.”
“I know.”
“What do you want?”
Claire’s eyes met hers.
“I want to know whether he targeted me.”
Elena did not answer immediately.
“That’s not the same as asking whether he loved you.”
“I know.”
“People can love what they plan to use.”
Claire swallowed.
Elena regretted the sentence as soon as she said it. It sounded like something engraved on a decorative plaque in a shop for divorced women.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s probably true.”
Claire leaned back.
“Did he ever talk about my family?”
“He mentioned the Whitmore Foundation. He said they were investing in adaptive reuse projects.”
“They aren’t.”
“He said your father wanted him to manage a property fund.”
“My father refused.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
Elena remembered a message from Adrian sent seven weeks earlier: Business is finally turning. I can cover daycare next quarter. Do not involve lawyers.
“Did he become different after your father refused?”
Claire stared at the table.
“Yes.”
The word carried shame, as though she had been responsible for not recognizing the change.
“He became urgent,” she said. “He moved the wedding forward by three months. He said his mother’s health was uncertain.”
Elena thought of Margaret standing rigid beside the floral arch.
“Is it?”
“No.”
Claire gave a tired breath. “She plays tennis four mornings a week.”
The attorney outside shifted in his chair.
Claire lowered her voice. “Adrian filed something this morning. His lawyer contacted mine.”
Elena felt her pulse in her throat.
“What?”
“He wants the video preserved. He claims you defamed him and intentionally interfered with our relationship.”
“Our relationship?”
“Mine and his.”
“He was married to me.”
“I know.”
“That usually interferes with a wedding more than a speech does.”
“I know.”
Claire’s eyes sharpened. “His letter also says he intends to establish parental rights regarding Lucia.”
May you like
Elena looked toward the glass wall, though the attorney outside could not hear them.
“He told you that?”
