Chapter 14 - GRANT REALIZED ELISE HAD TRIED TO TELL HIM THE TRUTHGrant went to the attic alone.
Arthur found him sitting beside old moving boxes.
He held a cardboard file marked:
ELISE — MEDICAL
“What are you doing?”
Grant didn’t look up.
“Trying to find out how many times she tried to tell me.”
Arthur sat slowly on a trunk.
His hip hurt.
He ignored it.
Grant opened a notebook.
Elise’s.
Not a secret investigation file.
Just her personal calendar.
Appointments.
Children’s activities.
Treatment.
One date circled.
Talk to Grant about Simon. NO MORE DELAY.
Grant stared.
“That night I had a business dinner.”
Arthur said nothing.
Another date.
Give Grant copies.
Grant’s handwritten note beside it:
Chicago overnight.
He covered his face.
“She kept trying.”
“You didn’t know what it was.”
“I knew she wanted to talk.”
Arthur waited.
Grant continued.
“I kept saying later.”
There was no way to make later sound less cruel after death.
“She was sick,” Grant whispered.
“And I was afraid every conversation would be about cancer.”
Arthur understood.
Sometimes people avoided the dying because every word reminded them time was ending.
Still a failure.
Still human.
Grant found a letter he had never opened.
Envelope sealed.
His name.
Postmark two months before Elise died.
It had been returned to the mansion after being sent to Grant’s office while he traveled.
Someone placed it in a box.
Maybe staff.
Maybe Simon.
Maybe no conspiracy at all.
Grant opened it.
Elise wrote:
I need you to listen before you defend anyone.
Grant began crying.
Arthur looked away.
Elise continued:
Simon has been using your signatures.
Vivienne March is connected.
If someone tells you I am confused, remember that being ill does not make me incapable of seeing what is happening.
Grant’s shoulders shook.
“She knew exactly what they would say.”
Arthur nodded.
The letter continued.
I am not asking you to solve it tonight.
I am asking you to believe that I am afraid.
Grant stopped reading.
Arthur felt the sentence cut through both of them.
Believe that I am afraid.
Not prove every allegation first.
Not fix everything.
Believe the fear.
Grant whispered:
“I didn’t.”
Arthur answered quietly.
“No.”
Grant looked at him.
“You could tell me I was busy.”
“I could.”
“You could tell me I was scared.”
“You were.”
“But I still didn’t.”
Arthur nodded.
“You still didn’t.”
Grant cried silently for a while.
Then finished.
Elise wrote:
If I am wrong, we lose nothing by checking.
If I am right, Owen and Maeve may need us to be braver than we have been.
Grant folded the letter.
“Maeve barely remembers her.”
“She remembers how she felt.”
Grant looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Safe.”
Arthur had seen it.
Maeve didn’t remember Elise’s exact words.
But she relaxed around her old photographs.
She spoke of her mother without fear.
Seraphina? No, Vivienne.
Vivienne had turned those memories into rivalry.
Grant stood.
“I need to tell Owen.”
“Not this.”
Grant frowned.
“He should know I failed.”
“He knows enough.”
Arthur’s voice was firm.
“Do not make a twelve-year-old carry your guilt.”
Grant looked down.
Arthur continued.
“You apologize for what affected him.”
“You don’t hand him every regret and ask him to make you feel forgiven.”
Grant nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
They went downstairs.
Owen was doing homework.
Grant sat at the other end of the table.
“I found a letter from Mom.”
Owen looked up.
“What did it say?”
“That she tried to warn me about Simon.”
“Did you listen?”
“No.”
Owen’s face tightened.
Grant didn’t hide.
“I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid.”
Owen frowned.
“You’re adults. You’re always afraid.”
Arthur almost laughed.
Grant did.
A sad sound.
“You’re right.”
Owen stared.
Then said:
“Vivienne said Mom was crazy.”
Grant went still.
“When?”
“A lot.”
“Mom wasn’t crazy.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Owen shrugged.
“Because Vivienne lies.”
Simple.
Grant looked down.
Then Owen added:
“But you believed her sometimes.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Are you going to believe me now?”
Grant looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
Owen narrowed his eyes.
“Even if I’m wrong?”
Grant thought carefully.
“I’ll believe that you’re telling me what you honestly think happened.”
Owen considered.
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then Maeve walked in holding something.
A photograph.
“Grandpa?”
Arthur turned.
“What?”
“I found this in Vivienne’s sewing room.”
The photo showed Vivienne.
Simon.
Marcel.
And a fourth person.
Taken at a restaurant.
Three years before Grant supposedly met Vivienne.
Grant stared.
“Who took this?”
Maeve shrugged.
“It was in a drawer.”
Arthur looked closer.
The fourth person was familiar.
A woman.
Dark hair.
Elegant.
Elise.
Grant stopped breathing.
“Why is Elise sitting with Vivienne?”
Arthur stared.
The dead wife who supposedly only investigated Vivienne from a distance had actually met her.
May you like
And judging by the photograph—
it had not been a friendly meeting.
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