Chapter 6 - The Person Richard Expected to Blame Claudia
Ben Holloway asked to speak privately.
Richard had known Ben longer than Mark had been alive.
That did not make Ben automatically trustworthy.
It did make his hesitation unusual.
They sat in the maintenance shop where Noah had built the wooden airplane.
Scraps of pine covered the workbench.
A child's safety goggles sat beside a jar of screws.
Richard picked them up.
“He made it here?”
“Three afternoons.”
“With you?”
Ben nodded.
“Mark knew?”
“He knew the first time.”
“And after that?”
Ben looked uncomfortable.
“Claudia brought Noah down here twice.”
Richard glanced at him.
“She did?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Mark was in one of his moods.”
Richard set the goggles down.
“What moods?”
Ben leaned against the bench.
“I'm not saying Claudia's some saint.”
“Good.”
“She snaps at the boy. She gets impatient. And what happened yesterday—there's no excuse.”
Richard waited.
“But she also sent him down here when Mark was worked up.”
“How often was Mark worked up?”
“More this year.”
Richard frowned.
“You never told me.”
“You didn't ask.”
The answer irritated him because it was fair.
Richard had spent less time at the lodge since semi-retiring. He visited, reviewed monthly reports, and assumed Mark would call if something mattered.
Ben continued.
“Mark started staying late in the office. He'd get calls, go outside, come back angry.”
“From creditors?”
“I don't know.”
“North Peak?”
Ben shook his head.
“Never heard the name.”
Richard looked at the wooden scraps.
“Why airplanes?”
Ben smiled slightly.
“Mark used to make them.”
Richard looked up.
“What?”
“With you.”
Richard had forgotten.
When Mark was eight or nine, he had built little balsa planes at Richard’s old workbench.
Richard suddenly remembered one hanging from Mark’s bedroom ceiling.
“You remembered that?”
“Mark did too.”
Richard stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“He came down here last week and saw Noah making this one.”
“What happened?”
“He got mad.”
“At Noah?”
“No.”
Ben hesitated.
“At me.”
“Why?”
“He said I had no business filling the kid's head with old family stuff.”
Richard frowned.
“A wooden airplane?”
“That's what I said.”
“What did he mean?”
Ben shrugged.
“Then Noah told him his mom said Grandpa used to make things with Daddy before Daddy got too busy.”
Richard felt his chest tighten.
Noah’s mother, Hannah, had loved old photographs.
She had kept albums from Mark’s childhood after they married.
Hannah had died three years earlier after a long illness.
Mark had barely spoken her name since marrying Claudia.
Ben continued.
“Mark left.”
Richard thought about Noah clutching the plane when Mark reached for it.
Maybe Mark had not wanted evidence destroyed.
Maybe he had not been afraid of some hidden message.
Maybe looking at the airplane simply hurt.
That did not make his behavior less dangerous.
It made it more human.
Richard asked one more question.
“Ben, when did Mark start getting bad?”
Ben considered.
“Before Claudia.”
Richard looked at him.
“How long before?”
“During Hannah's last year.”
That was nearly four years ago.
Long before the event renovation.
Long before North Peak.
Long before Claudia married him.
May you like
Richard had been trying to trace a business failure.
Ben had just pointed him toward a hospital room.
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