Chapter 3 - Arthur Came Home Without Telling PriscillaPriscilla expected Arthur to call.
She did not expect him to walk into the mansion at 6:17 that evening.
Bernice heard the front door first.
Nolan was upstairs in the guest suite after showering and changing clothes.
Priscilla stood in the kitchen with a glass of white wine and her phone pressed to her ear.
"I told you, he's not answering."
Then Arthur entered.
Priscilla stopped speaking.
Her face changed so quickly Bernice nearly missed it.
Fear.
Then warmth.
"Arthur."
She ended the call.
"What a surprise."
Arthur removed his coat.
"Is it?"
Priscilla smiled.
"I thought you were in Stamford."
"I was."
She stepped toward him.
"Did you get my file?"
"I did."
Her eyes flickered.
"Good."
Only one word.
But Arthur heard relief.
He looked around.
"Where's Nolan?"
"Upstairs."
"What happened to him?"
Priscilla's smile faded slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"Bernice said he wasn't feeling well."
Across the kitchen, Bernice understood immediately.
Arthur was giving her an excuse for why he had come.
Priscilla glanced toward Bernice.
"He had a tantrum."
Arthur's stomach tightened.
"A tantrum?"
"Over nothing."
"What happened?"
"He made a mess upstairs."
"And?"
"I disciplined him."
Arthur imagined the video.
He kept his face still.
"How?"
Priscilla laughed softly.
"Arthur, please."
"I'm asking."
"Nothing serious."
She picked up her wine.
"Children need boundaries."
Arthur stared at the glass.
"Especially children who've lost a parent."
Priscilla's expression hardened.
"Wesley indulged him."
"My son is dead."
The kitchen went quiet.
Priscilla lowered the glass.
"I know."
"Then don't use him casually to make a point."
"I'm sorry."
She looked toward the stairs.
"Nolan has been difficult since Wesley died."
Arthur nodded.
That part was true.
Nolan had nightmares.
He had become afraid Arthur would die too.
His school counselor said grief could appear as anger, withdrawal, or clinginess.
Priscilla had frequently presented herself as the patient adult holding everything together.
Arthur wondered how many of Nolan's reactions had actually been responses to her.
"I'll see him."
Priscilla stepped sideways.
"Maybe let him calm down."
Arthur looked at her.
"Why?"
"He was hysterical."
Arthur almost laughed.
Instead:
"Then he probably needs family."
"I'm his family."
The sentence came too quickly.
Arthur walked past her.
Priscilla followed.
"Arthur."
He stopped at the staircase.
"What?"
"Did you sign?"
There it was.
He turned.
"The asset agreement?"
"Yes."
"No."
For the first time, Priscilla failed to hide her reaction.
Her eyes sharpened.
"Why?"
"I haven't finished reading."
"You said this morning—"
"I changed my schedule."
"Is there a problem?"
Arthur looked at her.
"Should there be?"
Priscilla held his gaze.
Then smiled.
"No."
He continued upstairs.
Nolan's bedroom door was partly open.
Arthur knocked.
No answer.
He entered slowly.
Nolan sat on the floor beside his bed wearing pajamas.
His hair was still damp.
His eyes were swollen.
Arthur stopped.
"Hey, champ."
Nolan looked up.
Everything in the boy's face changed.
Relief first.
Then fear.
"Grandpa?"
Arthur crouched.
Nolan immediately stood and crossed the room.
He wrapped both arms around Arthur.
Arthur held him.
Too tightly at first.
He forced himself to loosen his grip.
"I came to see you."
Nolan buried his face against Arthur's jacket.
"Are you staying?"
"Tonight?"
Nolan nodded.
"If you want."
Nolan didn't answer.
He simply held tighter.
Arthur looked toward the doorway.
Bernice stood there.
She gave him the smallest nod.
Priscilla had not followed upstairs.
Good.
Arthur sat with Nolan on the bed.
Lydia had warned him.
Don't interrogate.
Don't ask leading questions.
Let professionals handle detailed interviews if necessary.
So Arthur did not say:
Did Priscilla put your face near the trash?
Did she threaten you?
Instead, he asked:
"Do you feel safe right now?"
Nolan looked confused.
"With you?"
"Here."
The boy looked toward the door.
Then whispered:
"Right now."
Arthur's chest tightened.
"What would make you feel safer?"
Nolan answered immediately.
"If she doesn't come in."
Arthur nodded.
"I can arrange that."
Nolan stared at him.
"You can?"
"Yes."
"Even if she says no?"
"Yes."
Nolan's lips trembled.
Arthur wanted to ask a thousand questions.
Instead, he waited.
Nolan picked at the blanket.
Then whispered:
"Did you sign it?"
Arthur became still.
"What?"
"The paper."
"Which paper?"
Nolan looked frightened.
"The one she keeps talking about."
Arthur's heartbeat changed.
"She talked to you about papers?"
Nolan nodded.
Arthur kept his voice neutral.
"What did she say?"
"That you were going to sign."
"Anything else?"
Nolan looked down.
"She said then the house wouldn't be yours anymore."
Arthur felt cold.
"Which house?"
"This one."
"Did she explain why?"
"No."
"Did she say who it would belong to?"
Nolan shook his head.
Then:
"She said I wouldn't get to go to Harbor House either."
Arthur stopped.
Harbor House.
The small waterfront property in Old Saybrook that Arthur's late wife, Eleanor, had left specifically for family use.
Nolan loved it.
Wesley used to take him there every summer.
Arthur had never discussed Harbor House with Priscilla beyond scheduling visits.
"Why did she mention Harbor House?"
Nolan stared at his hands.
"Because she asked where Dad kept the blue folder."
Arthur's pulse accelerated.
"Wesley?"
Nolan nodded.
"What blue folder?"
"I don't know."
"Did your dad ever give you one?"
"No."
"Did you ever see one?"
Nolan hesitated.
Then nodded.
Arthur leaned closer.
"Where?"
"In Grandpa's office."
Arthur frowned.
"My office?"
"No."
Nolan looked at him.
"Other Grandpa."
Arthur stopped breathing.
Priscilla's father had died years earlier.
So there was only one other man Nolan could call Grandpa.
Eleanor's brother, retired Judge Samuel Whitcomb.
Arthur had almost forgotten.
Before Wesley died, he had been handling a dispute involving Nolan's trust with Samuel.
Arthur remembered hearing about meetings.
He had not been involved.
"Did your dad take you there?"
"Once."
"What happened?"
Nolan looked toward the bedroom door.
"Priscilla doesn't know I saw it."
Arthur's voice softened.
"You don't need to tell me anything you're scared to tell."
Nolan's eyes filled.
"But she keeps asking."
"What does she ask?"
Nolan whispered:
"Where Dad hid the blue folder."
Arthur sat perfectly still.
Then Nolan added:
"She said it has the paper that can stop her."
The door behind them creaked.
Arthur turned.
Priscilla stood in the hallway.
May you like
And judging by her face—
she had heard the last sentence.
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