Chapter 2 - The Man in the Photograph
Emma did not immediately show Michael the picture.
That decision would later trouble her.
Marriage, she believed, was supposed to contain no secret rooms.
Yet something about the photograph frightened her.
Not because Diane was standing beside another man.
People had lives before marriage.
People had friends.
People had photographs.
It was the message.
Ask her about Robert Vale.
Someone wanted Emma to investigate.
And someone knew enough about the Bennett family to understand the importance of the date.
She searched the name online.
There were many Robert Vales.
Doctors.
Attorneys.
Teachers.
A retired architect.
Then she found an old article from a Boston business journal.
Robert J. Vale, real estate developer, dead at sixty-eight.
The photograph accompanying the article made Emma sit back.
Dark hair graying at the temples.
Deep-set brown eyes.
A strong jaw.
He looked familiar.
Not because Emma had seen him before.
Because she had seen his face every morning for eleven years.
Michael had his eyes.
Emma closed the laptop.
"No."
She said it aloud.
She felt ridiculous immediately.
A resemblance proved nothing.
The next evening, Diane called.
"We're holding the foundation gala at the mansion on the twenty-third."
Michael was beside Emma on the sofa, feeding Lily small pieces of banana.
Emma put the call on speaker.
"That's three weeks away," Michael said.
"The invitations have already gone out."
"You planned a gala without telling us?"
"I informed your assistant."
Michael rolled his eyes.
Diane continued.
"There will be press."
"So?"
"I expect the family to appear united."
Emma heard emphasis on the word family.
She looked at Michael.
He did not notice.
Diane added, "And dress Lily properly. Pale colors photograph well."
Emma's patience snapped.
"She's a baby, Diane, not a campaign poster."
Silence.
Then Diane said, "Everything carries the family name, Emma."
The call ended.
That night Emma retrieved the photograph from the drawer where she had hidden it.
Michael came into the bedroom while she was holding it.
He stopped.
"What's that?"
Emma had run out of time.
She handed it to him.
He examined the front.
Then the back.
His expression barely changed.
"Where did you get this?"
"It was mailed to me."
"By who?"
"I don't know."
Michael studied the man beside his mother.
"Robert Vale."
"You know him?"
"No."
"Michael."
"I don't."
He looked again.
Emma watched recognition begin to disturb him.
"You see it too."
He turned the picture facedown.
"See what?"
"He looks like you."
"Half the men in New England look like me."
"No, they don't."
Michael walked toward the window.
"Emma, my father was Henry Bennett."
"I know."
"He raised me."
"I know."
"He is my father."
She rose.
"I didn't say he wasn't."
Michael turned.
"Then why are we discussing this?"
"Because somebody sent this to me for a reason."
"Maybe someone wants money."
"Then why not send it to you?"
That question stopped him.
Emma approached carefully.
"Did your father ever say anything strange about your birth?"
"No."
"Your mother?"
"My mother has said strange things every day of my life."
Despite everything, Emma almost smiled.
Michael didn't.
He picked up the photograph again.
"There was one thing."
"What?"
He hesitated.
"When I was about sixteen, I needed surgery after a skiing accident."
Emma waited.
"My blood type became an issue because Mom had always told me I was the same type as Dad."
"And?"
"I wasn't."
Emma's pulse accelerated.
"Did anyone explain?"
"She said she'd remembered wrong."
"Michael."
"I was sixteen."
"Did your father know?"
"He was in the room."
"What did he do?"
Michael looked toward the photograph.
"He told the doctor to continue the treatment."
"That's all?"
"No."
Michael swallowed.
"He told my mother to stop talking."
Emma felt the room grow colder.
The next morning, Michael went to work early.
At noon, Emma received another package.
This one contained a photocopy of an old medical form.
The patient name was Diane Bennett.
The date was eight months before Michael's birth.
Most of the handwritten notes were unreadable.
One line had been circled.
Father of child uncertain.
May you like
Below it someone had written:
She has lied to him long enough.
