Chapter 6 - The Night Eleanor Really Died
Claire locked herself in the vineyard’s private library for twenty minutes.
Nobody followed.
Ethan wanted to.
Susan stopped him.
“She needs to decide what’s true without feeling protected from it.”
Ethan looked toward the closed door.
“I’m her husband.”
“That doesn’t mean you stand between her and every painful thing.”
He hated hearing it.
Mostly because Susan was right.
Inside, Claire stared at an old framed landscape without seeing it.
Her grandmother had smelled like lavender and black coffee.
Eleanor never baby-talked to her.
Even when Claire was seven, Eleanor had spoken to her as if her opinions mattered.
Robert called that indulgence.
Eleanor called it respect.
When Claire was fifteen and Robert grounded her for wanting to attend art camp instead of joining the family business internship, Eleanor picked Claire up at five in the morning and drove her to art camp herself.
Robert did not speak to Eleanor for three months.
Claire had always thought those battles were ordinary family friction.
Now they looked different.
A knock.
Claire opened the door.
Margaret stood outside.
“Tell me.”
Margaret entered.
No one else.
“What happened the night she died?”
“I was with her.”
“Where?”
“St. Catherine’s private care facility.”
“Why?”
“Eleanor had finally convinced a nurse to contact me.”
“But everyone thought you were dead.”
“Exactly. Robert stopped monitoring for me.”
Margaret sat down.
“She was weak. Much weaker than I expected. But mentally she was clear.”
“What did she say?”
“That Robert had discovered she was trying to restore the original trust.”
Claire clenched her jaw.
“She wanted me to get you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I tried.”
“You could have called.”
“I did.”
Claire frowned.
“To my phone?”
“To your apartment.”
“I lived alone.”
“Robert answered.”
Claire froze.
“What?”
Margaret nodded.
“He said you were traveling.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
Claire remembered that year.
She had been twenty-three.
Working at a design firm.
Robert had unexpectedly visited one weekend because he claimed her apartment building was unsafe.
He had stayed three nights.
Had he answered her phone?
Margaret continued.
“Eleanor gave me instructions for the vault. She said there were three sets of records. One in the bank. One with Patrick Hale.”
“You said Patrick was dead.”
“He was.”
“And the third?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Why?”
“She was afraid I’d be forced to reveal it.”
Claire looked away.
“What happened after you left?”
“I didn’t leave.”
Margaret’s voice lowered.
“At eleven twenty-seven that night, Robert arrived.”
Claire’s heart accelerated.
“How do you know?”
“I saw him.”
“You were there together?”
“No. I hid.”
“Why?”
“Because Robert believed I was dead.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“He entered Eleanor’s room with Charles Wexler.”
Claire remembered the older attorney entering the wedding reception behind the suited strangers.
“What did they do?”
“I couldn’t hear everything.”
“What did you hear?”
“Robert demanding a signature.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Grandma refused?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
Margaret’s hands tightened.
“Charles left.”
“What did Dad do?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there.”
“I was outside the room.”
“Then what happened?”
“Robert stayed eighteen minutes.”
“And?”
“When he left, I waited.”
Margaret’s voice broke.
“I went inside.”
Claire already knew.
“She was dead.”
Margaret nodded.
“Did you call the police?”
“I called the nurse.”
“Did they investigate?”
“The facility physician listed cardiac failure.”
“Was that possible?”
“She was eighty-one after a stroke. Yes.”
“But you didn’t believe it.”
“I didn’t know what to believe.”
“Did Dad touch her?”
“I never saw him hurt her.”
“Then why did he tell me to ask you?”
“Because he wants you to think I killed her.”
Claire stared.
Margaret stood.
“He has used the same weapon his entire life.”
“What weapon?”
“Uncertainty.”
Margaret walked toward the door.
“He doesn’t need you to believe him completely, Claire. He only needs you to doubt everyone else.”
She opened the door.
Charles Wexler stood on the other side.
No security.
No announcement.
Just the old attorney.
“Margaret,” he said.
Her face changed.
“Charles.”
He looked at Claire.
“I believe it’s time I told you why your father did not attend your wedding.”
Claire almost laughed.
“I already know. He wanted to punish me.”
Charles shook his head.
“No.”
May you like
He placed another envelope on the table.
“He didn’t attend because at eleven this morning, Robert Bennett learned someone had reopened the investigation into Eleanor’s death.”
