Chapter 2: The Woman Who Knew Too Much
My father stood at the window for several seconds without moving.
The black SUV remained beneath the oak tree.
Rain slid down its windshield, distorting the silhouette of the driver.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“Who is Thomas Reed?””
He didn't respond.
Instead, he opened the notebook again and flipped back to the entry about my mother's death.
“What exactly did Claire say after that sentence?””
I tried to remember.
“She was on the phone. I couldn't hear the person on the other end clearly. But Claire said something about an envelope. Then she said she had kept her promise.””
“What promise?””
“I don't know.””
“Did she mention your mother's name?””
“Yes.””
His fingers tightened around the pages.
“What else?””
“She said something about the blue suitcase.””
My father slowly turned toward me.
“What blue suitcase?””
“The one in her closet.””
He looked as if I had just told him the house was on fire.
“Claire still has it?””
“You know about it?””
He didn't answer.
A strange silence settled between us.
I had thought the blue suitcase was another example of Claire hiding something from me. But the expression on my father's face suggested it was part of something much bigger.
“Dad, what was in it?””
He rubbed his mouth with his palm.
“Your mother had a suitcase like that.””
“I know. It was hers.””
“No, Emma. I mean I remember buying it for her. The winter before she died.””
“Why would Claire have it?””
His eyes returned to the window.
“Because your mother asked me to keep it safe.””
I blinked.
“What?””
He lowered himself into the desk chair.
“Your mother had been worried about something shortly before the accident. She told me she wanted to keep certain documents somewhere private. She said she would explain everything when she was ready.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I thought those documents had been destroyed.””
“By who?””
He looked down at the notebook.
“I don't know.””
The doorbell rang downstairs.
Dad flinched.
A moment later, I heard Claire's voice.
“Daniel? Is that you?””
Her footsteps crossed the foyer.
“Daniel, sweetheart! I didn't know you were coming home tonight.””
She sounded cheerful.
Almost too cheerful.
“Everyone is still here. We're having such a lovely evening.””
Dad walked toward my bedroom door.
“Stay here,” he repeated.
I stood up.
“I'm coming with you.””
“No.””
“Dad, she has lied about me for years. I'm not hiding anymore.””
He looked at me.
For a moment, his expression softened.
Then he nodded.
“Stay beside me. Don't let her separate us.””
We walked downstairs together.
The party had become awkwardly quiet. My relatives were still seated around the dining table, although several had started collecting their coats.
Claire stood near the fireplace, holding a fresh glass of champagne.
When she saw Dad, she smiled.
“Darling! You came home early.””
She moved forward to kiss him.
He stepped aside.
Her smile faltered.
“What happened?””
Daniel placed the notebook on the dining table.
“We need to talk.””
Claire looked at it.
Then she looked at me.
“Emma has been telling you stories?””
My father didn't blink.
“Who is Thomas Reed?””
The glass in Claire's hand stopped halfway to her mouth.
It was a tiny movement.
But I saw it.
So did my father.
“Thomas?”” she repeated.
“Why are you asking about him?””
“Because he appears to be sitting outside our house.””
Claire's face turned pale.
She placed the glass on the mantelpiece.
“Oh, that must be a mistake.””
“Is it?””
“Daniel, this isn't the time.””
“When would be a better time? After another twenty years?””
My aunt Linda approached from the dining room.
“Daniel, is everything all right?””
“No, Linda. It isn't.””
Claire turned toward the guests.
“I'm sorry, everyone. Family matters. Perhaps we should end the evening.””
Nobody moved.
Dad opened the notebook and placed it in front of Claire.
“Do you recognize this?””
She glanced at the pages.
“It's Emma's notebook.””
“Have you read it?””
“Of course not.””
“Then explain this sentence.””
He pointed to the entry.
Claire didn't need to read it.
She knew exactly what it said.
Her expression changed from confused to offended.
“This is absurd.””
“Did you say those words?””
“I have no idea what you're talking about.””
“Did you say Emma's mother wasn't supposed to survive that night?””
Claire gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“Daniel, listen to yourself. This is ridiculous. Emma has always had a vivid imagination.””
I stepped forward.
“I wrote down what I heard.””
Claire turned on me.
“You were eavesdropping?””
“I was standing behind the greenhouse.””
“You were spying on me?””
“You were talking about my mother.””
“That's enough,” Daniel said.
Claire's eyes filled with tears so quickly that I almost wondered whether she had practiced.
“I have spent eight years trying to make this family work,” she said.
“I've raised a girl who has never accepted me, and now she is accusing me of something monstrous because I made a joke about a piece of cake?””
My uncle Richard shifted uncomfortably.
Claire pointed toward the cake.
“Look at what happened tonight. Everyone was happy until Emma decided to ruin it.””
Dad turned toward the table.
“What did you give her?””
Claire hesitated.
“A slice of cake.””
“In what?””
“Daniel, don't be ridiculous.””
“Answer me.””
She glanced at me.
“Fine. It was a joke. I put the slice in a clean garbage bag. It wasn't as if I served her actual trash.””
The dining room went silent.
My father's face hardened.
“You humiliated my daughter on her birthday.””
“Oh, for heaven's sake. She's twenty-two, not five.””
“She's my daughter.””
“And I'm your wife.””
“Those things are not interchangeable.””
Claire's mouth opened.
For the first time, she had no immediate answer.
Dad picked up the notebook.
“I want to know what's in the blue suitcase.””
Claire's expression collapsed.
“What?””
“The suitcase that belonged to Laura.””
She stared at him.
Then she looked at me.
“You opened it?””
“No,” I answered.
“Emma, you had no right to touch it.””
“I didn't.””
“You were warned to stay away from it.””
My father stepped between us.
“Why did you warn her?””
Claire's voice rose.
“Because it contains private things!””
“What private things?””
“Things that have nothing to do with you.””
“They belonged to my first wife.””
“And she's dead!””
The words struck the room like a slap.
Claire seemed to realize what she had said.
My father went completely still.
I felt my stomach twist.
He spoke very quietly.
“Don't use her death to shut me up.””
Claire looked around at the guests, searching for support.
Nobody met her eyes.
Then the front door opened.
A man entered without knocking.
He was tall, perhaps in his late fifties, with silver hair and a dark coat soaked by the rain.
My father stared at him.
“Thomas.””
The man gave a small nod.
“Daniel.””
Claire rushed toward him.
“You shouldn't be here.””
Thomas ignored her.
He looked at me.
“Emma?””
I nodded.
He reached into his coat and removed a brown envelope.
“Your mother asked me to give you this if Claire ever tried to destroy the things she left behind.””
My father stepped forward.
“What is that?””
“Something I should have delivered years ago.””
Claire grabbed his arm.
“Thomas, don't.””
He gently pulled away.
“I'm sorry, Claire. I kept your secret long enough.””
My father took the envelope.
There was handwriting on the front.
My mother's handwriting.
*For Daniel. Only if Claire tells you the truth.*
Dad stared at the words.
Then he opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my mother standing beside a woman.
Claire.
They were younger, smiling at the camera, their arms linked.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
Three days before my mother's accident.
Dad turned the photograph over again.
“Why were you with Laura?””
Thomas exhaled.
“Because Claire wasn't just your wife's friend.””
He glanced at Claire.
“She was your wife's business partner.””
I frowned.
“Business partner?””
Thomas nodded.
“Your mother owned half of a company before she married your father. Claire handled its accounts. After Laura died, the company changed ownership.””
Dad looked confused.
“What company?””
“Bennett Hospitality Holdings.””
My father's face tightened.
“That company belongs to me.””
“It does now,” Thomas said.
“But it didn't always.””
Claire stepped forward.
“Daniel, he's twisting everything. Laura sold her shares before the accident.””
Thomas shook his head.
“No. She intended to sell them, but she never signed the final documents.””
Dad looked at Claire.
“Then how did you transfer the shares?””
Claire's eyes flashed.
“Don't you dare accuse me of fraud.””
“I didn't. I asked you a question.””
Thomas reached into the envelope again.
This time, he pulled out a photocopy of a document.
A signature appeared at the bottom.
It looked like my mother's.
But beneath it was a typed date.
November 8.
Three days after she died.
My father stared at it.
“That isn't possible.””
Thomas nodded slowly.
“That's why I came.””
Claire backed away from the table.
“Daniel, please. We can discuss this privately.””
“No,” my father said.
“We're done discussing things privately.””
He held up the document.
“Who signed this?””
Claire's lips trembled.
Then the black SUV outside flashed its headlights twice.
Thomas looked toward the window.
“There's something else you need to know,” he said.
“What's that?”” Dad demanded.
May you like
Thomas hesitated.
“Your wife wasn't the only person who knew Laura was going to die that night.””
