Chapter 3 - The Dinner Party
The dinner party had been arranged to celebrate Vanessa's newest venture.
She called it Brooks Heritage Estates.
The company claimed to specialize in acquiring historic homes, renovating them, and offering them as luxury short-term residences.
There was only one problem.
Vanessa had never acquired a historic home.
She used Emma's.
The dining room contained twelve guests, including developers, investors, two social-media personalities, a local journalist, and a bank executive named Victor Hale.
Emma recognized Victor immediately.
He recognized her too.
"Dr. Carter."
He stood.
Emma had treated his wife after a cerebral aneurysm two years earlier.
"Victor."
"What a surprise. Vanessa said you were permanently based in Chicago."
Vanessa interrupted.
"Practically."
Emma watched her.
Vanessa smiled.
"Emma visits sometimes."
Margaret appeared at the staircase.
She wore Emma's black coat over a plain dress.
The room quieted slightly.
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
"You should be resting."
Margaret stared at her.
For the first time, Emma saw something change in her mother's posture.
Fear was still there.
But it had competition now.
Anger.
"I will rest where my daughter wants me to rest."
Vanessa's smile tightened.
Emma pulled out a chair.
"Mom sits beside me."
During dinner, Emma barely ate.
She listened.
Vanessa described the villa as the "first Brooks family acquisition."
Brandon said nothing.
Victor Hale asked about financing.
Vanessa enthusiastically explained that they were preparing to leverage the property for a new development.
Emma slowly placed her fork down.
"Leverage it?"
Vanessa looked at her.
"Business talk."
"I understand business talk."
"Then you know assets shouldn't sit idle."
Emma glanced at Brandon.
He looked sick.
Victor said, "The refinancing structure is impressive."
Emma's voice remained casual.
"Is it?"
Victor nodded.
"Given the valuation, yes."
"What valuation?"
"About nine point two million."
Margaret's hand tightened around her napkin.
Vanessa laughed.
"See? Aren't you glad we improved the place?"
Emma turned toward her mother.
Margaret was staring at Brandon.
Emma understood.
Her mother had known something.
Not everything.
But something.
"Mom?"
Margaret shook her head almost imperceptibly.
Not here.
Emma looked toward Victor.
"Who signed the refinancing request?"
Vanessa's smile vanished.
Brandon said, "Emma..."
Victor frowned.
"The property owner, presumably."
"And who is that?"
Silence.
Vanessa laughed nervously.
"My husband, obviously."
Victor looked at Brandon.
Then Emma.
His expression changed.
Brandon pushed his chair back.
"We should talk privately."
Emma reached beside her chair.
The blue folder waited inside her bag.
She placed it on the table.
That was how the confrontation began.
The deeds.
The recording.
Vanessa's humiliation.
Brandon's silence.
Then the mysterious bank authorization beneath the ownership records.
"This isn't Emma's money," Vanessa whispered.
Brandon lunged.
"Give me that."
Before Emma could ask another question, a scream came from upstairs.
"Emma!"
Margaret.
Emma ran.
She took the stairs two at a time.
Margaret stood inside Emma's old bedroom.
The balcony doors were open.
Curtains moved in the afternoon breeze.
A man stood beside the dressing table.
He wore gray trousers and a dark jacket.
Emma saw only part of his face.
He grabbed something from the drawer.
Then he ran toward the balcony.
"Stop!"
Emma rushed after him.
The man climbed over the stone railing.
A pergola roof lay several feet below.
He jumped onto it and disappeared into the garden.
Emma reached the balcony edge.
Guests were spilling onto the patio below.
"What happened?" Brandon shouted.
Margaret pointed toward the room.
"He was searching your things."
Emma looked at the open drawer.
Inside lay an old photograph of her father.
Beside it was an empty space in the dust.
Something had been removed.
"What did he take?" Emma asked.
Margaret's face went pale.
"I don't know."
Then she saw the bank authorization still in Emma's hand.
Her expression changed.
"Where did you get that?"
Emma stared at her.
"You know what this is."
May you like
Margaret sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
"Your father made me promise never to tell you."
