Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Erased Me
I got out of the car and started back toward the front door. Before I reached it, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I almost let it ring out.
"Is this Rachel?" A woman. Older. Every word placed with care.
"Who is this?"
A beat.
"My name is Eleanor," she said. "I think it's time you and I talked."
I stopped on the front step with her voice in my ear and said nothing for a good five seconds.
"How did you get this number?"
"Vanessa gave it to me."
Of course she did.
"I don't think we have anything to talk about," I said.
"Rachel." Smooth. Rehearsed. The voice of somebody who had practiced this in the car. "You're angry. I understand that. You've been told a version of events that makes me sound like a monster. But every story has two sides, and I'd like the chance to give you mine before this becomes something none of us can undo."
"You told my father I was dead."
A pause. "That is not what happened."
"Then what happened?"
"I told him the baby probably wouldn't survive. You were premature. You were in the NICU. The doctors weren't hopeful. I was trying to keep him from clinging to a hope that might not—"
"I was in the NICU for eleven days," I said. "Then I went into foster care. Not a cemetery. Foster care. You had thirty-one years to pick up a phone and fix what you said."
Silence.
"I made a mistake," she said finally. "A terrible one. And then I didn't know how to walk it back. By the time you came home from the hospital, Edward had already—"
"Already what? Already moved on, because you told him his daughter was in the ground?"
"It was complicated."
"The wire transfer wasn't complicated. The letter you sent in 1991 asking for more money wasn't complicated."
This silence was different. Harder. When she spoke again, the warmth was gone, like a coat she'd taken off.
"I see Howard has been thorough."
"My father was thorough," I said. "Howard just kept the files."
"Your father," Eleanor said, "was a man who found it very comfortable to believe whatever he was handed. I didn't hold a gun to his head. I didn't make him stop looking. He made his own choices, Rachel. I was one factor among many."
"You were the first factor. You made the call."
"And he chose to believe it without asking one question." Sharper now. "I am not the only person who built your childhood. I'm just the easiest one to point at. Because I'm still alive. Because I can actually be made to answer for it."
It was a calculated thing to say. She wanted me shouting. She wanted me sloppy.
I made myself breathe.
"What do you want, Eleanor?"
"I want to meet. Face to face. Before this goes anywhere near a courtroom."
"Why?"
"Because there are things about your father's estate that are not in any file Howard has shown you. Things that get very messy if this turns into a legal war." A pause. "I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you the situation is bigger than you know, and it would be in your interest to hear me out before you do something you can't take back."
I looked at the closed front door.
"I'll think about it," I said.
"Don't think too long. Vanessa's attorney files on Friday."
I hung up.
I went straight upstairs, past Vanessa's closed door, into the guest room. I sat on the bed and dialed the number on the back of Howard's card.
A woman answered on the second ring. "Patricia Vance."
"My name is Rachel Dunn. Howard Pryce gave me your number. My father was Edward Whitfield."
A short pause. "I've been waiting for your call. Howard walked me through it. How fast can you come in?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"I'll move things around," she said. "Rachel — before we talk, don't agree to meet anyone attached to this estate. Not Vanessa. Not her lawyer. And absolutely not Eleanor."
I looked at the wall.
May you like
"Eleanor called me twenty minutes ago."
"I know," Patricia said. "She called my office this morning trying to find out whether you'd hired me. She didn't give a name, but I know the number." A beat. "She's frightened. That's why she's moving fast. So we move faster."
