Chapter 6 - The Vent
By the time Vanessa dragged Margaret onto the attic landing, Margaret's shoulder felt as if fire had been driven beneath the skin.
She refused to cry.
Not because she was not in pain.
Because Vanessa was watching.
Vanessa pulled her toward an old storage trunk.
"Sit."
Margaret laughed bitterly.
"I was sitting until you dragged me out of my wheelchair."
"Lower your voice."
"Or what?"
Vanessa looked toward the attic door.
"Guests can hear."
"Good."
Ethan appeared carrying a bottle of water.
Margaret looked at him.
"Did you enjoy watching that?"
His face reddened.
"Margaret, I'm sorry."
"That word is useless from a man who keeps standing still."
Vanessa snatched the water.
"Drink."
Margaret knocked it from her hand.
The bottle rolled across the attic floor.
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"You are staying here until the reception ends."
Margaret stared at her.
"You are locking me in an attic."
"The door doesn't lock."
"Then bring my chair."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because people will ask questions."
Margaret understood.
Her daughter's greatest fear was not what she had done.
It was being seen doing it.
Vanessa reached into the upper pocket of Margaret's dress.
Margaret slapped at her hand.
Vanessa grabbed the phone.
"Give me that."
"You are not calling anyone."
"I am calling Clara."
"No."
"Why?"
Vanessa slipped the phone into her clutch.
"Because you are upset."
Margaret stared at her.
"Say dementia again."
Vanessa froze.
Margaret leaned forward.
"Go on. Tell me how confused I am while you steal my telephone."
Ethan whispered, "We should leave."
Vanessa turned.
"Yes."
Margaret grabbed his sleeve.
"Where am I going tomorrow?"
He could not look at her.
"Ethan."
Vanessa ripped his arm away.
They left.
Margaret listened to their footsteps descend.
Then the attic became quiet.
Wedding music drifted faintly through the floor.
Margaret looked around.
Boxes.
Christmas decorations.
Thomas's old fishing rods.
Vanessa's childhood dolls.
Thirty years of life stored beneath dust.
Margaret suddenly laughed.
It was absurd.
Her daughter wanted to erase her from her own house by hiding her among everything the family had already forgotten.
Then the service door creaked.
Sophie slipped inside.
Margaret's face changed.
"Sweetheart."
Sophie hurried over.
"Are you okay?"
"I will be."
"Does it hurt?"
"Not enough to make me stop being angry."
Sophie almost smiled.
Then she looked toward the wall.
"I found something earlier."
"What?"
"When Dad carried your suitcase up here."
Margaret went still.
"My suitcase?"
Sophie nodded.
She crossed the attic.
Behind several cardboard boxes sat a gray suitcase.
Margaret recognized it immediately.
She had used it on a trip to Vermont with Thomas eleven years earlier.
Sophie unzipped it.
Margaret stared.
Her nightgowns.
Medication.
Slippers.
Toothbrush.
Even the framed photograph of Thomas she kept beside her bed.
That was the object that broke through her composure.
Margaret touched the frame.
"They packed him too."
Sophie did not understand.
Margaret did.
Vanessa had not intended her to return.
She took a breath.
"Did you see a ticket?"
Sophie nodded.
"Dad had one."
"Where?"
"He didn't put it in the suitcase."
"Where did he put it?"
Sophie moved toward an old metal vent.
"This made a noise after he left."
The cover was loose.
Sophie pulled it free.
Something white slipped out.
A plane ticket.
One way.
Margaret Elaine Hale.
Departure the following morning.
Destination Phoenix, Arizona.
Sophie read the time.
"Grandma... this says tomorrow morning."
Margaret's stomach dropped.
Then Ethan appeared.
Everything after that happened exactly as Margaret would remember it for years.
Vanessa arriving.
The Brightwater papers.
The forged signature.
Daniel Weller's name.
Clara at the staircase.
The deed.
The company.
And Margaret telling them to explain everything downstairs.
But Vanessa had not finished fighting.
As Clara climbed the first step, Vanessa reached toward Sophie.
"Give me the papers."
Sophie backed away.
Clara stopped.
"Do not touch her."
"This is a family matter."
"Not anymore."
Vanessa laughed sharply.
"You think a photocopy proves anything?"
Margaret looked at Sophie.
"Do you have the original?"
Sophie nodded.
Vanessa stared.
The girl reached into the back of her dress sash.
She had folded the admission document into four sections and tucked it beneath the ribbon.
Ethan almost smiled despite himself.
Vanessa saw.
"You think this is funny?"
"No."
"Then do something."
Ethan looked at Margaret.
Then at his daughter.
"No."
Vanessa's face changed.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no."
Clara climbed the remaining stairs.
She handed Margaret the deed packet.
Margaret looked at the signature.
Another forgery.
A better one.
She looked at Ethan.
"Did you know this was filed?"
"I knew Vanessa had documents prepared."
"That was not my question."
He swallowed.
"Yes."
Sophie stared at her father.
That hurt him more than Margaret's anger.
Margaret continued.
"Did you know I had not signed them?"
Ethan said nothing.
"Answer me."
"Yes."
Vanessa whispered, "Ethan."
He turned toward her.
"I am done lying."
Vanessa laughed.
"On our wedding day."
"Maybe we should have thought about that before stealing your mother's house."
The word echoed through the attic.
Stealing.
Vanessa stared at him.
Then her face twisted.
"You needed the money."
Ethan flinched.
There it was.
Clara heard it.
Margaret heard it.
Sophie heard it.
Vanessa realized what she had admitted.
She stepped backward.
Clara said calmly, "I think everyone downstairs should hear the rest."
Vanessa pointed at her.
"You have no right."
Clara lifted Margaret's phone from Vanessa's open clutch.
"I have enough right to return stolen property."
She handed it to Margaret.
There were twelve missed calls.
Three from Clara.
Two from Diane.
One from Margaret's bank.
And six from an unknown Arizona number.
Margaret looked at Vanessa.
"Brightwater?"
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
Margaret called the number.
Vanessa rushed forward.
Ethan blocked her.
A woman answered after two rings.
"Brightwater Memory Residence."
Margaret put the call on speaker.
"My name is Margaret Hale."
A pause.
"Oh. Mrs. Hale. We were expecting your daughter to confirm tomorrow's transport."
Margaret looked at Vanessa.
"I would like to know why you are expecting me."
The woman hesitated.
"Your guardian arranged your admission."
Margaret's eyes never left her daughter.
"I do not have a guardian."
Silence.
Then the woman said, "Mrs. Hale, perhaps I should connect you with our administrator."
Margaret's voice hardened.
"No. You should listen very carefully."
Downstairs, guests began cheering again.
May you like
Margaret reached for Clara's arm and stood.
"Because before this wedding reception ends, I intend to find out exactly how many people my daughter had to lie to in order to make me disappear."
