Chapter 9 - box 317)
Daniel stared at Clara's warning.
Emily expected denial.
Anger.
Some attempt to blame a dead woman.
Instead, he sat down on an old trunk.
"She knew."
Emily held the key tightly.
"Apparently."
"She knew what my mother would do."
"She knew enough."
Daniel looked devastated.
Robert took the note.
"Box 317."
Emily said, "A bank?"
"Probably."
"Which bank?"
Robert thought.
"Clara used Franklin Federal when we worked together."
Daniel looked up.
"They merged with Commonwealth Atlantic."
Robert nodded.
"The downtown branch still has safe deposit boxes from the old Franklin vault."
Margaret laughed from the attic stairs.
"You think a bank kept an abandoned box for twenty-five years?"
Emily looked at her.
"You seem very interested in convincing us it doesn't exist."
Margaret's smile vanished.
Robert folded the note.
"We go tomorrow."
"Christmas Day," Daniel said.
"Then the twenty-sixth."
Margaret descended the stairs.
"You'll embarrass yourselves."
Robert called after her.
"Maybe."
She stopped.
"But if you touch another document tonight, I will call the police myself."
Margaret turned.
"You wouldn't."
Robert's expression did not change.
"Try me."
She left.
Emily remained in the attic.
Daniel stayed seated.
Robert and the others eventually went downstairs.
For several minutes, husband and wife were alone.
Daniel looked at the cedar chest.
"Your mother hated me."
Emily's voice was flat.
"Maybe she had a reason."
"I loved you."
"Stop."
"I did."
"Then tell me why you never told me how we met."
He rubbed his hands together.
"I was twenty-eight. My mother called me and said the daughter of an old business enemy would be at a charity gala. She wanted me to find out what you knew."
"And you agreed."
"I thought it was stupid."
"But you went."
"Yes."
"How many dates before you told Margaret I didn't know about the property?"
Daniel's face tightened.
"Three."
Emily closed her eyes.
Three dates.
Their first dinner.
Their walk along the Charles River.
The night Daniel kissed her outside her apartment.
During those memories, he had apparently been reporting to his mother.
"Did you keep seeing me because she asked?"
"At first."
"How long?"
"Maybe six weeks."
Emily nodded slowly.
Six weeks.
Then Daniel added, "After that, I told her I was done."
Emily looked at him.
"Done with me?"
"Done reporting to her."
"Did you really?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you search my mother's storage box years later?"
Daniel had no answer.
Emily walked toward the attic stairs.
He called after her.
"I spent years trying to keep everyone happy."
She turned.
"No. You spent years keeping your mother happy and expecting me to absorb the cost."
His eyes filled.
"You're right."
She wasn't prepared for that.
Daniel continued.
"I kept telling myself it was easier."
"For whom?"
"For me."
There it was.
The first completely honest thing he had said.
Emily nodded.
"Yes."
Daniel stood.
"What happens to us?"
Emily almost smiled.
He still believed their marriage was tonight's biggest question.
"I don't know."
"Do you still love me?"
She looked at him for a long moment.
"I love the person I thought you were."
Daniel's face crumpled.
Emily continued downstairs.
Margaret had disappeared into her bedroom.
Robert remained in the library.
Rachel and Claire were making coffee.
The other relatives had finally gone home after giving Emily their phone numbers and promising to describe exactly what they witnessed if needed.
It was nearly midnight.
Christmas Eve had become Christmas morning.
Robert approached Emily.
"You can stay here."
Emily looked around.
The mansion's marble floors.
Garlands.
Gold ribbons.
The perfect tree.
For eleven years, Margaret had told her this was not her home.
Now documents suggested that statement might be legally false.
Yet Emily had never felt less attached to the place.
"I don't know if I want to."
Robert nodded.
"I understand."
"Do you?"
He looked toward the fireplace.
"No. But I'm trying to."
Emily sat.
"Why didn't my mother tell me?"
Robert took the chair across from her.
"She may have been protecting you."
"From what?"
"Us."
The simplicity hurt.
Robert continued.
"I made decisions I am ashamed of. I let Margaret handle the property dispute because I didn't want to confront what I'd done to Clara."
"You cheated on her."
"Yes."
"And then let the woman you left her for control property Clara helped buy."
"Yes."
Emily stared at him.
"You don't get to become the hero tonight."
"I know."
Robert's answer was immediate.
"I am not trying to."
That made her trust him slightly more.
He looked at the key.
"Whatever is in box 317, it may not make any of us look good."
Emily closed her hand around it.
"Good."
Robert frowned.
"Good?"
"I'm tired of stories designed to make people look good."
Rachel entered with coffee.
"Then tomorrow should be interesting."
Emily looked toward the dark windows.
Snow had begun falling.
Christmas morning.
A beautiful house.
A ruined dinner.
A marriage standing at the edge of collapse.
May you like
And a tiny brass key that had been waiting for Emily longer than she had known her husband.
She had no idea that before sunrise, someone would try to take it.
