Chapter 2 - THE SIX PEOPLE AARON NEEDED IN OUR HOUSE
Lauren took me into the upstairs guest bathroom.
Not because I was collapsing.
Because she did not trust Aaron to follow us into a room with one door.
She closed it.
Locked it.
Then looked at my cheek.
“Sit.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're bleeding.”
“Barely.”
“Claire.”
I sat.
She wet a washcloth.
Lauren had known Aaron longer than I had.
They went to Northwestern together.
Later, she became outside counsel for Weller Care Group, the senior-home services company founded by Aaron’s father.
That was why she was invited to dinner.
Or so I had believed.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Celeste threw a perfume bottle.”
“Why?”
“She said I was snooping through her room.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
That part was absurd.
Celeste had asked me upstairs herself.
She claimed a clasp on her necklace was stuck and wanted help before guests arrived.
Once I entered, she accused me of turning Aaron against his family.
Then the bottle flew.
Lauren stared at me.
“What about Aaron?”
“He grabbed my arm.”
Her face hardened.
“Has he done that before?”
“Not like that.”
Not enough to leave a bruise.
Not enough that I had ever used the word violent.
But Aaron had blocked doorways.
Taken my phone during arguments.
Put his hand over paperwork before I finished reading.
Small physical ways of ending conversations.
I had called them bad habits.
Now I wasn't sure.
The gray phone vibrated again inside the cleaning basket.
Lauren looked at it.
“We should not start opening somebody else's phone.”
“I know.”
That mattered.
I did not need to become reckless simply because they had.
The lock screen still displayed notifications.
DINNER SIX.
Another message appeared.
Aaron:
Keep order. Lauren first. She has to see Claire before Malcolm does.
Lauren read it.
Her expression changed.
“Before Malcolm does what?”
“I don't know.”
“Who owns the phone?”
“Probably Celeste.”
Lauren shook her head.
“Not her regular number.”
“No.”
The screen lit again.
Aaron:
Did she find it?
I looked toward the locked door.
Lauren whispered:
“He knows.”
“Yes.”
“Claire, we need to leave.”
I looked at the basket.
“If I walk downstairs with this phone, Celeste will say I stole it.”
“She may.”
“If I leave it here, they'll destroy whatever is on it.”
Lauren thought.
Then took out her own phone.
She photographed only what was visible on the lock screen.
No attempts to bypass the code.
No opening messages.
Timestamp.
Device.
Notifications.
Then she called her law partner downstairs.
Not as company counsel.
As a friend.
“I need you to come upstairs.”
Twenty minutes later, the gray phone was placed inside a clear food-storage bag and left on the guest-room desk while everyone agreed nobody would touch it until ownership was clarified.
Celeste refused to admit it was hers.
Aaron refused too.
Interesting.
The six guests began arriving.
Malcolm Weller.
Aaron's uncle and one of the company's directors.
Denise Coleman.
Outside accountant.
Paul Everett.
A longtime family friend and banker.
Janet Weller.
Celeste's younger sister.
David Knox.
Another director.
Lauren.
Six.
Every one of them had some connection to Weller Care Group.
No spouses.
No neighbors.
No casual friends.
I looked at Lauren.
“This isn't dinner.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
She looked downstairs.
“I think Aaron expected tonight to become evidence.”
That sentence frightened me.
Evidence of what?
Three days earlier, I had told Aaron that I wanted Weller Care Group's independent directors to review a series of vendor payments.
He called me paranoid.
Celeste called me disloyal.
Aaron told me to drop it until after year-end.
I refused.
Tonight's dinner had suddenly appeared on the calendar forty-eight hours later.
Now there were six carefully chosen people downstairs.
And a hidden phone under Celeste's bed telling them when to arrive.
I touched the small bandage Lauren had placed on my cheek.
“Why did they need people to see me?”
May you like
Lauren answered slowly.
“Maybe because they've already told people something about you.”
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