Chapter 2 - "Did She Cry?"
He sat down and shook out his napkin like it was any other night.
"Did she cry?" I asked.
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "What?"
"Ashley. When you gave her the bracelet. Did she cry?"
He set the fork down on the plate. He didn't pretend to be confused. He didn't stammer. He didn't insult me with some fast, stupid lie.
Somehow that was worse.
"Nora…"
"Fifteen thousand dollars, Douglas. I'm still wearing the pearl necklace I wore at our wedding. So I'm asking you a simple question. Did your mistress cry when you put that bracelet on her wrist?"
He rubbed his jaw with one hand. In the candlelight he looked ten years older than he had that morning.
"She's not my mistress. And no, she didn't cry."
"Oh, so it was just a nice little bonus for a loyal employee."
"Nora. Please sit down."
I hadn't realized I was on my feet.
"Tell me she's your secret kid," I said. "Tell me something I can actually survive hearing."
He flinched. "She's not my daughter either."
For half a second, something in my chest loosened. Then it clamped right back down.
"Then what is she to you?"
Douglas stared at the candle between us for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped into something low and careful I'd never heard from him in twenty-three years.
"Ashley has a right to one nice thing from this family."
I just looked at him.
"This family," I repeated.
"Yes."
"Why?"
He reached into his back pocket and worked his wallet out. His thumb dug past the bills until it found something small and dull, and he slid it across the tablecloth. It came to a stop against the base of my wineglass.
A brass key. The little kind that fits a desk drawer.
"What is this?"
"My office. The drawer next to the tax files. There's a blue folder inside it."
"Douglas, I want you to talk to me. Not send me on a treasure hunt through your desk. Just tell me what is going on."
"You won't believe it if I just tell you. You have to see it."
"See what?"
"Read the folder," he said. "Then you'll understand what I owe Ashley, and why I owe it."
I picked up the key. It was still warm from his pocket, and I hated that.
"And if I don't like what's in there?"
"You won't like it. I can promise you that much."
"If I can't live with it?"
May you like
He looked down at his plate. "Then I won't blame you for leaving," he said. "But I think you'll see I had my reasons."
I left him sitting at the table with the roast going cold between us.
