Chapter 9
For three days, I ignored Declan.
Not because I thought he had created my debt.
Not because I believed he had known.
I ignored him because it was easier to be angry at someone visible than at two years I couldn’t get back.
Evelyn called on Wednesday.
“We have Harbor Mutual’s initial response.”
I sat on my bed.
“And?”
“They claim the forty-eight thousand dollars was disbursed.”
“To whom?”
“They provided transfer records.”
My pulse jumped.
“To St. Agnes?”
“No.”
“To the dissolved trust?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the edge of the mattress.
“How could money be transferred to a nonexistent organization?”
“The organization was dissolved. The bank account apparently wasn’t.”
I stared at the wall.
“Who controlled it?”
“We’re working on that.”
“I think I know.”
“Don’t guess.”
“Victor.”
“Probably.”
“That sounds like guessing.”
“It is. Which is why I said not to.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Evelyn continued.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“The records indicate the forty-eight thousand dollars wasn’t newly funded.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It appears Harbor Mutual created a loan on paper and then transferred money between two related accounts.”
“So no new money existed?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
My stomach turned.
“Then what was I repaying?”
“A balance generated by the contract.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Legally? It may not.”
“No, I mean as a person. How can someone owe money that was never given to anyone?”
“That,” Evelyn said, “is an excellent question.”
I thought about Victor sitting across from me in the hospital cafeteria.
He had worn a gray tie.
I remembered that.
Grief preserved strange details.
He had put a pen beside my hand and told me I was doing everything possible for Lily.
I had believed him because I needed someone to tell me that.
“Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“Were there others?”
A pause.
“We don’t know.”
“But if he used an old charitable account…”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t have been the only person.”
“No,” she said gently. “You may not have been.”
That frightened me in an entirely different way.
Not because I felt less important.
Because suddenly I could picture other kitchens.
Other sisters.
Other families opening envelopes at midnight.
“How do we find out?”
“You don’t.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You let the appropriate people investigate. Your job is to decide what you want from your case.”
“My case.”
“Yes.”
I had been thinking so much about the mystery that I had forgotten I was allowed to want an outcome.
“What are my choices?”
“We can seek confirmation that the contract is unenforceable. We can pursue repayment of what you’ve already paid. We can submit the records for regulatory review. Potentially all three.”
“What about Declan?”
“What about him?”
“His family’s account was used.”
“Yes.”
“Does that make him responsible?”
“Not automatically.”
I was quiet.
Evelyn seemed to understand the question beneath the question.
“Someone failing to see something is not the same as someone causing it,” she said. “But people still have to decide what they do after they see it.”
That stayed with me.
I went to the mansion that evening.
Not because Declan called.
He hadn’t.
I went because I was tired of having conversations with him in my head.
Maeve opened the door.
“Kitchen.”
“I didn’t ask where he was.”
“You were going to.”
“I might have wanted tea.”
“There is tea in the kitchen.”
I narrowed my eyes.
She smiled.
“Spinach?”
“Yesterday.”
“Progress.”
Declan was alone at the kitchen table.
No suit jacket.
Sleeves rolled to his forearms.
A stack of old files sat beside him.
He looked exhausted.
It was the first time I had ever seen him that way.
He stood when I entered.
“You don’t have to stand every time I walk into a room.”
“Habit.”
“Break it.”
He sat.
I took the chair opposite him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then I said, “I was angry with you.”
“I know.”
“You could have defended yourself.”
“I could have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because you were right.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“I wasn’t completely right.”
“No.”
That almost made me smile.
He looked down at the papers.
“My mother asked me to review those accounts. I didn’t.”
“You were taking care of her.”
“That explains the choice. It doesn’t erase it.”
There was no self-pity in his voice.
Just fact.
“I spent years thinking responsibility meant controlling every outcome,” he said. “So when there was an outcome I couldn’t control, I stopped looking at it.”
“Your mother dying.”
“Yes.”
My anger softened.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
“I did something similar.”
He looked at me.
“After Lily died, I treated the debt like proof that I was still doing something for her.”
Declan said nothing.
“I knew she was gone,” I continued. “Obviously I knew. But every payment felt connected to those last weeks. If I stopped paying, part of me thought I was giving up on her again.”
“You didn’t give up on her.”
“I know that now.”
He looked toward the dark windows.
“Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“That may be enough.”
I studied him.
“Your mother would probably say the same to you.”
His expression changed.
A small fracture in all that composure.
“You never met her.”
“No.”
“She would have liked you.”
“Because I faint in libraries?”
“She liked difficult people.”
“I’m difficult?”
“Remarkably.”
I folded my arms.
“You sat in a chair for hours because a sleeping woman grabbed your hand.”
“That was also difficult.”
“You could have left.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
This time there was nowhere for either of us to hide behind humor.
“Because you asked me not to.”
“I was unconscious.”
“Apparently you’re persuasive.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
A faint smile.
Then it vanished.
“I stayed because nobody should wake up alone after falling that far.”
My eyes burned.
I looked down.
After a moment, I placed my hand on the table between us.
Not touching him.
Just there.
His gaze dropped to it.
“Evelyn says we may be able to recover the payments.”
“You should.”
“I’m going to submit everything for review too.”
“Good.”
“If there are other families, I want them found.”
“Good.”
I breathed in.
“And I need something from you.”
“Anything I can give.”
“No quiet solutions.”
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
“No making phone calls that make people cooperate because they’re afraid of your name.”
“No.”
“No deciding what’s best for me without asking.”
A pause.
Then, “I can try.”
“That isn’t very reassuring.”
“I’m attempting honesty.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Fine.”
He looked toward my hand again.
“And what do I get?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’re negotiating?”
“Apparently.”
“What do you want?”
“When you need help, ask before you collapse.”
I stared at him.
“That seems unfairly specific.”
“It’s based on experience.”
I laughed.
Then, slowly, I turned my hand palm up.
Declan looked at me.
Not at my hand.
At me.
I nodded once.
May you like
His fingers settled into mine.
This time I was awake.
