“It has everything to do with what kind of control you thought you had.”
“You think because you’re rich you can walk into court and buy whatever answer you want?”
“No.”
I looked through the hotel window at Mom sitting nearby with a cup of tea.
“I think Mom gets to tell the truth.”
“She signed the deed.”
“I know.”
“You saw it.”
“I did.”
“Then what exactly do you think you have?”
I looked at the envelope from the clock.
“Enough to make you nervous.”
He went quiet.
That was the first time I knew we had reached him.
“What did she give you?”
I did not answer.
“What did Mom give you, Emily?”
His voice no longer sounded angry.
It sounded afraid.
My eyes moved to the brass key on the table.
“You removed Dad’s clock,” I said.
Silence.
“What?”
“The walnut clock.”
Another silence.
Then Derek said, too quickly, “That old thing was taking up space.”
I smiled without humor.
“Was it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You tell me.”
He hung up.
Mom and I looked at each other.
“He knows,” she whispered.
“No.”
I picked up the key.
“He knows there was something to know.”
That evening, Laura called.
“Derek’s attorney contacted me.”
“What does he want?”
“To resolve this privately.”
I looked at Mom.
“That was fast.”
“He also wants to know exactly what evidence we intend to rely on.”
I stared at the housekeeping badge beside the envelope.
“Tell him he’ll find out.”
Laura was silent for a moment.
Then she said, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Derek is hosting the same dinner he postponed after your arrival. Tomorrow night. Several relatives, neighbors, and business associates are expected.”
I remembered the flowers.
The table.
The champagne.
The way he had been preparing to perform ownership in front of other people while Mom scrubbed the floor.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because he’s presenting himself publicly as the owner while litigation is pending.”
I looked at Mom.
Her face had gone still.
Monatelang beruhte Dereks Kraft auf einer Sache mehr als auf der Tat.
Er kontrollierte die Geschichte.
Mama war verwirrt.
Mama brauchte Hilfe.
Derek hatte sie gerettet.
Das Haus gehörte ihm.
Emily hatte alle im Stich gelassen.
Jede Grausamkeit war hinter diesen Erklärungen verborgen geblieben.
Ich griff über den Tisch.
“Mama, was willst du?”
Sie sah mich an.
Nicht Laura.
Nicht die Papiere.
Ich.
“Ich will mein Haus zurück.”
“Noch etwas?”
Sie blickte auf das graue Abzeichen hinab.
Dann sagte sie: “Ich möchte, dass er mich anschaut, wenn ich ihm sage, warum.”
