Chapter 14 - The Meeting at the Botanic Garden
Margaret replied the next morning.
Nina called at seven-thirty.
I was already awake.
I was always awake by seven.
Grace was not.
“Margaret sent an email at 5:12.”
“What did she say?”
“That she wants to speak in person.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
I sat up.
“She’s here?”
“She says she never moved to Arizona.”
That was the first surprise.
“The address?”
“Belonged to her sister.”
“Why would she lie about moving?”
“She says she didn’t.”
I was dressed ten minutes later.
Grace came downstairs in pajamas while I was talking to Marco.
“Where are you going?”
“Nina called.”
Her face sharpened.
“Mrs. Ellis?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming.”
“You have school.”
“It’s Saturday.”
I looked at Marco.
He looked away.
Everyone enjoyed my mistakes too much.
“Fine.”
Margaret suggested meeting at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
That choice immediately lowered my suspicion.
Someone planning betrayal rarely chooses a public garden full of retired couples and toddlers in strollers.
Still, Marco came.
So did Nina.
Evelyn barely spoke during the drive.
Grace noticed.
“Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“You knew Mrs. Ellis?”
“A long time ago.”
“Did you like her?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe she’ll still be likable.”
Evelyn smiled.
“That would be convenient.”
We found Margaret near a greenhouse.
She had changed.
Age had silvered her hair and softened her posture, but I recognized the voice before I got close enough to study her face.
“Grace.”
Grace stopped.
Her entire expression transformed.
“Mrs. Ellis?”
Margaret crossed the distance carefully.
She did not hug Grace immediately.
Instead she asked, “May I?”
Grace smiled and opened her arms.
That one gesture told me something I had failed to notice years earlier.
Margaret had always asked.
Even with children.
Especially with children.
They hugged.
Grace laughed.
“I thought you lived in Arizona.”
“So did half of Lake Forest.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
“It was meant to sound boring.”
Nina glanced at me.
“Told you.”
We sat at an outdoor table overlooking a pond.
Margaret ordered tea.
Nobody drank much.
She looked at Evelyn.
“It has been a long time.”
“Too long.”
“You look like Daniel.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled briefly.
“He would hate hearing that.”
“He complained about getting old from forty onward.”
“He complained about everything from forty onward.”
They smiled.
History moved between them.
Not secrets exactly.
Just years.
Finally I said, “Why was Grace’s name in the Blue Book?”
Margaret turned toward me.
“Because I put it there.”
“I know.”
“I thought you might.”
“Why?”
Margaret folded her hands.
“I met your mother when I was twenty-nine.”
Grace leaned forward.
“You knew Grandma?”
“Very well for about six years.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Because your father hired me to help Grace navigate the world, not to reopen his family history.”
I could respect that.
Barely.
“Then why update the book?”
“Because Maria asked us to.”
“She was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Margaret.”
She sighed.
“Anthony, your mother designed the Meridian records to be updated when a descendant might benefit from them. Not recruited. Not pressured. Simply noted.”
“You were watching Grace.”
“I was teaching Grace.”
“There’s a difference?”
“A large one.”
Evelyn spoke softly.
“Why didn’t you tell me the archive activated?”
Margaret turned toward her.
“I tried.”
“When?”
“After Daniel died.”
“You sent flowers.”
“And a letter.”
Evelyn went still.
“What letter?”
Margaret frowned.
“A four-page letter.”
“I never received it.”
“I mailed it to your old Evanston address.”
“We had moved.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“That explains a great deal.”
The mystery that had felt like a conspiracy began collapsing into something far more ordinary.
Wrong addresses.
Old legal instructions.
A husband who died before finishing conversations.
A teacher who respected boundaries too much.
A housekeeper who applied for one job and accepted another.
Human life.
May you like
Complicated not because someone planned everything.
Complicated because nobody did.
