Chapter 4 - Claire’s Broken Saturday
Lauren stepped between us.
“Too late, Dad.”
Robert looked older than he had during the ceremony.
Not tired.
Defeated.
“Lauren.”
“What did you do?”
He glanced around the reception.
“This is your wedding.”
“And apparently everyone except me knows what happened seventeen years ago.”
Robert looked at Claire.
“I’m sorry about Catherine.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“You don’t get to begin with that.”
“No.”
“You were supposed to help her.”
“I know.”
“What stopped you?”
Robert looked at Lauren.
“Her.”
Lauren recoiled.
“Me?”
“You were fourteen.”
Robert sat heavily.
“Grant’s father had photographs. Evidence. Your mother had developed a prescription dependency after surgery. She had forged prescriptions using my identification.”
Lauren’s expression changed.
“He threatened Mom?”
“He threatened you. If I pursued the financial case, he would expose everything publicly. Your mother would face charges. I would lose my position. You would become collateral damage.”
Claire stared at him.
“So you buried my sister’s death?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I buried evidence of the fraud. Catherine’s death was ruled accidental because there was no physical evidence proving otherwise.”
“Except your letter says the official story is false.”
Robert closed his eyes.
“Because Catherine wasn’t alone when she fell.”
Grant entered.
“Dad was there.”
Robert shook his head.
“So was someone else.”
Before he could name the person, Lauren’s mother appeared at the library door.
“Robert.”
Everyone turned.
Her face was white.
“Not tonight.”
Lauren stared at her.
“You knew?”
Her mother began crying.
That answer was enough.
Lauren walked out.
I followed her.
She reached the service corridor before stopping.
“I thought today was supposed to be uncomplicated.”
“I don’t think weddings are famous for that.”
She laughed once through tears.
Then she looked at me.
“Your girlfriend seems nice.”
“Lauren.”
“I know she isn’t your girlfriend.”
I stared.
“You knew?”
“You touch people you love differently.”
That hit harder than I expected.
She smiled sadly.
“I spent six years studying your hands, Daniel.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. For approximately thirty seconds, I was impressed.”
I laughed.
Then she did.
It was strange.
Liberating.
For the first time since our breakup, we were simply two people who knew each other well.
No unfinished sentence between us.
Lauren looked at my bare wrist.
“You finally took it off.”
“I suppose I did.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
Claire appeared at the end of the corridor.
Lauren excused herself.
Claire approached.
“Are you okay?”
“Shouldn’t I ask you that?”
“Probably.”
We walked outside.
Claire admitted her original Saturday plans had been an engagement dinner.
Her engagement dinner.
“He canceled Thursday,” she said.
“Ouch.”
“He was sleeping with my business partner.”
“Double ouch.”
“That’s why I accepted my godmother’s last-minute invitation.”
“And Catherine?”
Claire looked at Hawthorne.
“I recognized the estate name on the invitation.”
“So you came searching.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Robert would be here?”
“Yes.”
“Grant?”
“Yes.”
“Me?”
“No.”
Something about that answer pleased me more than it should have.
Claire smiled.
“You really did save me that seat by accident.”
“I’m beginning to think the chair deserves most of the credit.”
Her eyes softened.
Then a staff member hurried toward us.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“We found something in the west wing.”
“What?”
“A woman’s clutch.”
Claire looked down.
Her clutch was still in her hand.
The employee swallowed.
“It has Claire Dawson’s identification inside.”
Claire’s smile vanished.
We followed him upstairs.
At the end of the west corridor stood a locked bedroom.
The employee pointed.
“It’s inside.”
Claire whispered, “That room belonged to Catherine.”
I reached for the handle.
It turned before I touched it.
May you like
The door opened from the inside.
And a woman’s voice whispered Claire’s name.
