Chapter 5 - the woman in the photograph
Ryan grabbed the heavy brass lamp from his mother's nightstand.
Robert reached for his phone.
The footsteps below stopped.
Then a woman's voice called up the stairs.
"Robert?"
He froze.
Ryan looked at him.
"You know her?"
Robert said nothing.
"Robert?"
The voice came again.
A woman appeared at the bottom of the staircase.
She looked to be in her late fifties.
Dark coat.
Gray streaked brown hair.
A small overnight bag in one hand.
When she saw Ryan, she stopped.
"Oh my God."
Ryan tightened his grip on the lamp.
"Who are you?"
The woman looked at Robert.
"You didn't tell him?"
Robert descended slowly.
"Margaret."
Ryan stared.
"Margaret Holloway?"
She looked at him again.
"You really don't know."
"Know what?"
Margaret placed the bag down.
"I'm your father's sister."
Ryan blinked.
"My father doesn't have a sister."
Margaret gave Robert a tired look.
"Apparently I died again."
Robert closed his eyes.
"Ryan, put the lamp down."
"No."
"She's not dangerous."
"Tonight I'm not taking anyone's word for that."
Margaret almost smiled.
"You sound like Claire."
Ryan stiffened.
"You know Claire?"
"Yes."
"Where is she?"
"I promised her I wouldn't say."
"Everyone keeps telling me that."
"For good reason."
Robert reached the first floor.
"Why are you here?"
"Claire called."
"When?"
"Thirty minutes ago."
"What did she say?"
"That Diane was running."
Robert looked toward the empty hallway.
Margaret continued.
"And that you'd finally opened the envelope."
Ryan came down the stairs.
"Why did my mother tell me you didn't exist?"
Margaret took off her coat.
"She didn't tell you I died?"
"She never mentioned you."
"That's almost an improvement."
Robert looked ashamed.
Ryan waited.
Margaret walked into the dining room.
Her eyes stopped at the overturned chair.
Then the cranberry stain.
"What happened?"
Robert explained.
Not everything.
Only enough.
Margaret listened without interrupting.
When he described Noah falling, she closed her eyes.
"That woman."
"You knew she was dangerous?" Ryan asked.
Margaret looked at him.
"I knew she could be cruel."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"I tried."
Ryan laughed bitterly.
"Apparently that's the family motto."
Margaret sat down.
"I left when you were eight."
"I don't remember you."
"You weren't supposed to."
"Why?"
"Diane."
Robert spoke quietly.
"Margaret."
"No. We're done protecting her."
She looked at Ryan.
"Your mother didn't like anyone she couldn't control. Your grandfather. Claire. Me. Eventually your father."
Ryan crossed his arms.
"What happened between you?"
Margaret glanced at Robert.
He didn't stop her.
"Our mother died when Robert was thirty two. She left this house equally to the two of us."
Ryan looked around.
"This house?"
"Yes."
"Mom always said she and Dad bought it."
Margaret laughed without humor.
"Diane says many things."
Robert looked down.
Margaret continued.
"Diane wanted my half."
"Did you sell it?"
"No."
Ryan stared at Robert.
"But Dad lives here."
"Robert was supposed to buy me out over ten years."
"What happened?"
"Diane altered the agreement."
Robert finally spoke.
"I signed documents I shouldn't have."
Margaret's voice softened.
"You signed what she put in front of you."
"Same difference."
Ryan looked between them.
"So who owns the house?"
Margaret leaned back.
"That question is more complicated than it should be."
Of course it was.
Everything in his family was.
"Claire discovered the problem when she was twenty."
"The trust?"
"The house came first. She found old deeds while helping Robert organize papers."
Robert nodded.
"She realized Diane had used part of Claire's trust to make payments that were supposed to come from me."
Ryan looked at his father.
"So Claire's own money was used to buy Aunt Margaret's share?"
"Yes."
"Without Claire knowing?"
"Yes."
"Did Margaret know?"
"Not until later."
Margaret added quietly, "And when Claire confronted Diane, Diane realized she had a problem."
Ryan understood.
Claire wasn't simply an angry daughter.
She was evidence.
"That's why Mom forced her out."
"Partly."
"What else?"
Nobody answered.
Ryan turned to Margaret.
"Claire said the money wasn't the worst thing Diane did."
Margaret looked at Robert.
Robert looked away.
Ryan's patience snapped.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Looking at each other before deciding how much truth I'm allowed to hear."
Margaret stood.
"He's right."
Robert's shoulders dropped.
Margaret walked to the living room cabinet and pulled open the bottom door.
Behind several albums was an old wooden box.
"You knew that was there?" Robert asked.
"I put it there twenty years ago."
She opened it.
Photographs.
Letters.
A small cassette tape.
And a newspaper clipping.
Ryan picked it up.
LOCAL WOMAN INJURED IN FALL AT HOLLOWAY RESIDENCE.
The article was dated December 18, 2001.
The injured woman's name was Ellen Price.
"Who is Ellen?"
Robert's face went pale.
Margaret answered.
"Your mother's best friend."
"What happened?"
"She fell down the back stairs during a Christmas party."
Ryan looked toward the hallway.
"Accident?"
Margaret didn't answer.
Ryan looked at his father.
"Dad?"
Robert finally spoke.
"I thought it was."
"You thought?"
"Ellen said she slipped."
Margaret opened another envelope.
Inside was a handwritten statement.
Ryan read the first sentence.
My name is Ellen Price, and if anything happens to me, Diane Holloway is responsible.
Ryan looked up.
"Why did she write this?"
May you like
Margaret's expression was grim.
"Because she didn't fall."
