Chapter 2 - the room beneath the workshop)
The basement workshop smelled exactly as Nora remembered.
Cedar.
Machine oil.
Coffee.
Her father had built furniture there on weekends, not because the family needed furniture but because he had believed every person should know how to create something with their hands.
The workbench remained covered in unfinished projects.
A chair leg.
A wooden train.
A small jewelry box.
Nora touched the box.
“My tenth birthday.”
Gerald looked surprised.
“He never finished it.”
“No.”
“Maybe he did.”
Nora looked at him.
Gerald pointed beneath the workbench.
Behind two rolling tool cabinets was a narrow section of wall paneling.
Nora had seen the wall a thousand times.
She had never noticed the keyhole.
The brass key fit perfectly.
There was a click.
The panel opened inward.
Cold air drifted through.
Beyond it was a staircase.
Nora turned on her phone flashlight.
“You knew about this?”
“I knew Samuel had constructed secure storage beneath the workshop. I had never been inside.”
Nora stared at him.
“You were his attorney for almost forty years.”
“Attorneys know what clients tell them.”
“And what did he tell you about Evelyn?”
Gerald was silent.
“That’s becoming a pattern.”
“Samuel instructed me not to answer until you had seen what was below.”
They descended.
At the bottom was a steel door.
It opened with the same key.
The room beyond was larger than Nora expected.
There were no piles of cash.
No jewelry.
No hidden weapons.
There were filing cabinets.
Six of them.
A desk.
Two locked trunks.
Shelves containing thirty years of accounting records.
And photographs.
Dozens of photographs.
Nora moved closer.
Samuel with a woman.
The same woman from the funeral photograph.
She had dark hair, a wide smile, and a tiny scar beside her left eyebrow.
There were photographs at parks.
Restaurants.
A hospital parking lot.
One photograph showed Samuel holding the infant.
On the back was written:
Nora, 3 weeks.
Nora dropped it.
Gerald closed his eyes.
“No.”
Her voice was barely audible.
She picked it up again.
“Nora, three weeks.”
Another photograph.
Samuel holding the same baby at six months.
Another.
The woman kissing the baby’s forehead.
On the back:
Evelyn and Nora.
Nora stepped backward.
Gerald reached toward her.
She recoiled.
“Don’t.”
“Nora.”
“Don’t touch me.”
Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it.
“My mother is Elaine.”
Gerald said nothing.
“My mother is Elaine.”
“I know what you were told.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
A noise came from above.
Gerald turned toward the stairs.
Someone had entered the workshop.
Nora grabbed the photograph.
Footsteps.
Then Marcus appeared in the doorway.
He looked around.
His anger vanished.
“What the hell?”
Gerald’s face hardened.
“You were told not to come down.”
Marcus ignored him.
He stared at the photographs.
Nora watched her brother’s expression.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Fear.
“You know her,” Nora said.
Marcus looked at her.
“No.”
“You know who Evelyn is.”
“I don’t.”
“You lied at the cemetery.”
“I was angry.”
“You said Dad spent his life cleaning up after her.”
Marcus turned toward one of the filing cabinets.
Nora blocked him.
“Answer me.”
“Move.”
“Answer me.”
Marcus slammed his palm against the cabinet.
“You want the truth? Fine. Dad had an affair.”
Nora stopped.
Marcus continued.
“That woman was the affair. She got pregnant. Dad paid her to disappear.”
Nora looked at the photograph.
“That baby is labeled Nora.”
“Dad was sentimental.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
Gerald said quietly, “Marcus, you should stop.”
Marcus spun.
“You shut the hell up. You helped him hide all this.”
Gerald’s voice became colder.
“No. I helped him document it.”
Marcus froze.
Nora turned.
“Document what?”
Gerald walked to the desk.
He opened the top drawer.
Inside was a cassette recorder.
Beside it were four tapes.
Each was dated.
The newest had been recorded only eleven days before Samuel died.
Gerald inserted it.
Pressed play.
Static.
Then Samuel Farwell’s voice filled the room.
“If Nora is hearing this, then I ran out of time.”
Nora covered her mouth.
Samuel continued.
“Marcus may tell her Evelyn was my mistress.”
Marcus went still.
“That is a lie.”
Nora slowly turned toward her brother.
The recording continued.
“Evelyn Mercer was Nora’s biological mother.”
Nora gripped the desk.
“She did not abandon Nora.”
Elaine’s voice suddenly came from the stairway.
“Turn that off.”
Everyone turned.
May you like
Elaine stood at the bottom of the stairs.
And in her right hand was a hammer.
