At seven that evening, Mark opened a bottle of expensive wine.
Jenna arrived wearing cream-colored trousers and carrying flowers.
For me.
“Carol,” she whispered, eyes swollen, “I’m so ashamed.”
I hugged her.
She stiffened in surprise.
“You’re family,” I said.
Her eyes filled with tears.
For one second, I wondered if some part of her pain was real.
Then I remembered the hotel.
Dinner was surreal.
Daniel spoke softly to Jenna.
Mark kept pouring wine.
I served pot roast.
We discussed weather.
Work.
A broken fence.
It was like four actors performing a play in a burning theater.
After dessert, Mark brought out the papers.
“There are only a few signatures.”
I reached for the pen.
Mark leaned
forward.
Jenna glanced at him.
It lasted less than one second.
But Daniel saw it too.
I lowered the pen.
“I need the bathroom.”
Mark smiled.
“Of course.”
I walked down the hall.
Then out the side door.
Rebecca was waiting in the dark.
So were two financial crime investigators working with Mr. Hale.
Earlier that day, Hale had contacted authorities using Rebecca’s evidence.
But we still needed something current.
Something undeniable.
I returned to the dining room.
Mark pointed to the signature line.
I sat.
Then asked, “What happens to Dad’s land if I die?”
His face barely changed.
But Jenna stopped breathing.
“Why would you ask that?” Mark said.
“I’m fifty-six. People die.”
“You’re healthy.”
“Humor me.”
Mark laughed.
“It goes into the trust.”
“And then?”
“To the beneficiaries.”
“Which means you?”
His smile disappeared.
“Carol.”
Daniel looked at Jenna.
“Did Dad promise you part of it?”
She
stood abruptly.
“This is insane.”
Mark snapped, “Sit down.”
Jenna obeyed.
That frightened me more than anything else.
