Chapter 3 - The Woman Before the Funeral)
Daniel Hawthorne did not believe his mother.
Not at first.
When Margaret placed Emily’s letter on his office desk that afternoon, he read it twice and laughed once.
It was not amusement.
It was the sharp, defensive laugh of a man whose mind had been presented with a fact too dangerous to accept.
This cannot be real.
You recognize her handwriting.
People can copy handwriting.
Margaret stared at him.
You are a real estate attorney. Is that the best argument you have?
Daniel stood.
Why are you doing this?
Doing what?
Trying to destroy my marriage.
Margaret’s voice lowered.
Your marriage does not need my help.
Daniel turned away.
Vanessa has been good to me.
That was not the question.
She helped me survive.
Still not the question.
She loves Noah.
Margaret waited.
Daniel finally looked at her.
She loves Clara too.
Do you believe that?
He did not answer quickly enough.
Margaret placed Sofia’s video beside the letter.
Daniel watched it.
His face changed.
When it ended, he replayed it.
Then again.
Where did you get this?
Does it matter?
Yes.
Because context matters.
Margaret nearly stood.
Context?
Maybe Clara had just eaten.
She was crying for food.
Babies cry.
Vanessa withheld it.
For seconds.
On camera.
Daniel sounded as though he were arguing in court.
Margaret understood what he was doing.
He was not defending Vanessa.
He was defending himself from the conclusion that he had failed Clara.
So Margaret stopped pushing.
Instead, she asked a different question.
When did you first meet Vanessa?
Daniel frowned.
You know when.
Tell me.
At the company’s winter conference.
What year?
Two years ago.
Emily was alive.
Yes.
Did Emily know her?
Of course.
How well?
Daniel looked irritated.
They had meetings.
Arguments?
Occasionally.
About what?
Corporate accounts. Project financing. I do not remember.
Margaret placed the blue trust letter beside him.
Emily remembered.
Daniel’s face tightened.
Mom.
Did Emily ever accuse Vanessa of moving money?
Silence.
Margaret felt her pulse quicken.
Daniel.
It was nothing.
What was nothing?
Daniel sat down.
Six weeks before the accident, Emily believed there were inconsistencies in one of our development funds.
Whose department?
Vanessa’s.
Margaret closed her eyes briefly.
And you never told me.
Because there was nothing to tell.
What happened?
We hired an outside accountant.
And?
The problem disappeared.
Problems do not disappear.
The accountant concluded that a reporting error had occurred.
Who selected the accountant?
Vanessa recommended the firm.
Margaret almost laughed.
Daniel, listen to yourself.
He stood again.
Stop.
Emily suspected Vanessa of financial misconduct. Emily called me about your accounts before she died. Emily wrote Vanessa’s name in a letter hidden in a bank box. Vanessa is now living in Emily’s house. How many coincidences do you require before one becomes a pattern?
Daniel slammed his palm against the desk.
Do not say what you are trying to say.
Margaret looked at him.
I have not said anything.
You are suggesting Vanessa had something to do with Emily’s accident.
I am asking why Emily was afraid.
Daniel walked toward the window.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Margaret noticed something unusual on his desk.
A framed photograph.
Daniel and Vanessa at a company dinner.
The date printed by the photographer was visible in the corner.
September 14.
Three months before Daniel claimed he had first met Vanessa.
Margaret picked it up.
What are you doing?
You said you met at the winter conference.
I was mistaken.
This photograph is September.
So?
So Emily was alive for another four months.
Daniel took the frame from her hand.
I do not remember every event.
Margaret looked at him carefully.
Were you having an affair?
Daniel went still.
That was answer enough.
Margaret whispered.
Daniel.
It was not physical.
Do not insult me.
It was emotional. At first.
Emily knew?
Eventually.
Margaret turned away.
Suddenly the last months of her daughter’s life looked different.
The distant phone calls.
The tension.
Emily’s strange insistence on changing her will.
The unfinished sentence about Daniel’s accounts.
How long?
Daniel said nothing.
How long?
Three months.
Margaret faced him.
Before Emily died?
Yes.
Did Emily know?
Yes.
The room seemed smaller.
Did she want a divorce?
Daniel’s eyes filled with something Margaret had not seen from him in months.
Shame.
She was considering it.
And the house?
Emily wanted Clara protected.
Margaret stared at him.
That was the second trust.
Daniel nodded slowly.
I think so.
You think?
Emily never showed me the final documents.
Margaret’s voice became dangerously calm.
And then she died.
Daniel looked sick.
Mom, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with the accident.
Margaret believed him.
She hated that she still believed him.
But belief was not forgiveness.
Did Vanessa know about the divorce?
Yes.
About the trust?
I do not know.
Emily confronted her once.
About the affair?
About everything.
Daniel rubbed both hands over his face.
She told Vanessa to stay away from me and from the company.
When?
Nine days before the crash.
Margaret remembered Sofia’s words.
Emily’s security code had appeared three times.
Someone was still entering the house under a dead woman’s identity.
She gathered the documents.
Where are you going?
To find the accountant.
Daniel looked at her.
Why?
Because if Emily was right about the money, she may have been right about everything else.
At the door Margaret stopped.
And Daniel?
He looked up.
Clara stays with me tonight.
He did not argue.
That frightened Margaret more than if he had.
Later that evening, while Margaret put Clara to sleep in the nursery of her own home, her phone received an email from an address she did not recognize.
There was no message.
Only an attachment.
A photograph.
It showed Emily standing in the conservatory beside Vanessa.
The timestamp was eleven days before Emily’s death.
Vanessa was handing Emily a blue leather folder.
May you like
On the glass door behind them, someone had written four words in condensation.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT IT.
