Chapter 2 - THE LIE UNDER THE ROOF
Claire got Evelyn inside before she asked another question.
She sat her mother at the breakfast table, wrapped ice in a dish towel, and held it against the swelling on her cheek.
Vanessa remained near the kitchen island.
Brandon paced.
Nobody apologized.
That told Claire plenty.
Six weeks earlier, Claire had left Atlanta for Seattle to oversee the final phase of a hotel renovation project. She owned a small commercial design firm and spent more time in airports than she liked.
The Buckhead house had been her one indulgence.
She had bought it four years earlier after her father died, partly because Evelyn had been drowning in the quiet of the suburban ranch house where she and Claire’s father had lived for thirty-seven years.
Claire never called it a gift.
She simply told her mother, “This is home. Stay as long as you want.”
Brandon and Vanessa were supposed to be there temporarily.
Their Brookhaven condo had water damage from a burst supply line. Brandon had asked if they could stay for eight weeks during repairs.
Claire had agreed.
Now week eight had become month five.
“What happened while I was gone?” Claire asked.
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
Vanessa snorted.
Claire looked at her.
“You slapped my mother.”
“She got dramatic because I asked her to clean up after the landscaping crew.”
“You had her by the hair.”
“She argued.”
Claire started toward her.
Evelyn caught her wrist.
“Please.”
Brandon exhaled.
“Vanessa went too far. Fine. She shouldn’t have hit Mom.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“But Claire,” Brandon continued, “you don’t know what’s been happening here.”
“Then tell me.”
He didn’t.
Claire noticed several things at once.
A framed photograph that normally sat beside the coffee maker was gone.
Her mail tray was empty.
And the ceramic bowl where Evelyn kept her medication had been moved from the kitchen counter into a cabinet.
Small things.
But Claire had designed the routines of this house around her mother.
“Where’s your mail?” she asked Evelyn.
Brandon answered.
“I’ve been handling it.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom gets overwhelmed.”
Evelyn kept looking at the table.
Claire removed the ice.
“You told Vanessa she owns this place?”
“No,” Brandon said.
Vanessa laughed incredulously.
“You told me it was ours.”
“I said it was staying in the family.”
“You showed me paperwork.”
Claire turned sharply.
“What paperwork?”
Brandon stared at Vanessa.
For the first time, Vanessa seemed unsure.
“The transfer papers.”
“There are no transfer papers,” Claire said.
Silence stretched between them.
Vanessa looked at Brandon.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Claire was considering restructuring ownership.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Evelyn pushed back her chair.
“I need to lie down.”
Claire stood.
Her mother caught her hand before leaving.
“You should cancel tonight.”
“What’s tonight?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Vanessa said, “Our dinner.”
“What dinner?”
Brandon closed his eyes briefly.
Vanessa looked almost offended.
“The investment dinner. Twenty-two people are coming at seven.”
Claire stared at her brother.
“You’re hosting investors in my house?”
“You approved the dinner.”
Claire remembered.
A month earlier Brandon had texted asking whether Vanessa could have “a small business dinner.”
Claire had replied, Sure. Just make sure Mom’s comfortable.
She had assumed Vanessa was entertaining clients from her event-planning company.
Now Brandon said quietly, “They’re not Vanessa’s investors.”
Claire looked at him.
“They’re mine.”
Evelyn stopped halfway down the hall.
May you like
Claire saw her mother grip the wall.
And suddenly the fear on the patio had somewhere to point.
