Chapter 4 - The Photograph Margaret Tried to Burn
Claire did not sleep.
At six the next morning, she found Margaret Ashford in the breakfast room.
The older woman was alone.
Claire placed the locket beside her coffee.
Margaret’s hand stopped halfway to the cup.
“Where did you get that?”
“Ballroom.”
Margaret reached for it.
Claire covered it with her hand.
“Who is the girl?”
Margaret’s eyes lifted.
“You already know.”
“Yes.”
Claire’s voice stayed quiet.
“That’s me.”
Margaret looked toward the doorway.
“Lower your voice.”
“Why?”
“Because Leo is upstairs.”
“This has nothing to do with Leo.”
Margaret’s face revealed the lie before she spoke.
“It has everything to do with Leo.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“Explain.”
“I owe you no explanation.”
Claire laughed once.
It contained no humor.
“You have carried my childhood photograph inside a locket beside your dead daughter-in-law’s picture, and you think you owe me nothing?”
Footsteps sounded outside.
Margaret grabbed Claire’s wrist.
“Not here.”
Claire stared at the perfectly manicured fingers gripping her.
For the first time, Margaret seemed old.
Not elegant.
Not powerful.
Old.
And terrified.
“Meet me in the west greenhouse at ten,” Margaret whispered.
“Why there?”
“Because Grant doesn’t go there anymore.”
“Why?”
Margaret released her.
“Because Caroline died after leaving it.”
Claire’s blood went cold.
Before she could answer, Grant entered.
He was carrying Leo.
The child immediately reached toward Claire.
“Morning.”
One word.
Clear.
Grant stopped walking.
Margaret stopped breathing.
Claire’s eyes filled.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
Grant looked at his son as though someone had returned the sun to the sky.
Leo smiled.
Grant lowered him into his chair.
Then he looked at Claire.
Something passed between them.
Gratitude.
Shock.
Dangerously close affection.
Margaret saw it.
“Grant,” she said quickly, “we should discuss last night.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I spent fourteen months trying every therapist, specialist and childhood trauma expert money could find.”
He buttered Leo’s toast.
“Claire accomplished what none of us could because she didn’t treat him like a damaged investment.”
Margaret’s lips tightened.
“This attachment is inappropriate.”
“Stop.”
“Grant—”
“I mean it.”
Leo flinched.
Grant immediately softened.
Margaret looked away.
At ten, Claire entered the west greenhouse.
Margaret was waiting.
The place had once been magnificent.
Now dust coated empty planters.
Dead vines curled around iron trellises.
Margaret held an envelope.
“You were seven when that photograph was taken.”
Claire folded her arms.
“I know.”
“The older girl beside you was named Caroline Bennett.”
Claire’s heart hammered.
“Bennett?”
“Before she became Caroline Ashford.”
Claire stared at her.
“No.”
“She volunteered at St. Agnes during summers.”
“Caroline knew me?”
“She more than knew you.”
Margaret handed Claire the envelope.
Inside were photocopies.
Letters.
Dozens of them.
All written in the same elegant handwriting.
Claire,
I asked Sister Mary if you received the book.
Claire,
I’m sorry I couldn’t visit Sunday.
Claire,
You are not forgotten.
Claire sat down hard on an old iron bench.
“She wrote to me?”
“For years.”
“I never received these.”
“I know.”
Claire looked up.
Margaret could barely meet her eyes.
“What did you do?”
“Caroline wanted to adopt you.”
Silence.
Claire thought she had misheard.
“What?”
“She was eighteen when she first met you. Too young. Later, when she finished university, she began the process of becoming your legal guardian.”
Claire stood.
“But I aged out.”
“Because the paperwork disappeared.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“Who made it disappear?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“I did.”
The slap echoed through the greenhouse before Claire consciously decided to raise her hand.
Margaret staggered.
Neither woman spoke.
Claire stared at her own palm.
“I’m not sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Why?”
“Because Caroline was a Reed before she became an Ashford.”
Claire frowned.
Margaret continued.
“Her family expected a certain life. Marriage. Philanthropic boards. Children. Reputation. I believed taking responsibility for an orphaned girl with no known family would complicate everything.”
“You stole my chance at a family because I was inconvenient?”
“Yes.”
Claire’s eyes burned.
Margaret opened her handbag.
“There’s more.”
“I don’t want more.”
“You need to hear it.”
Claire turned toward the door.
“Caroline found you again.”
She stopped.
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
Claire slowly turned back.
“She hired investigators. She discovered your employment history. Your apartment. Everything.”
“Then why didn’t she contact me?”
Margaret’s face changed.
“She did.”
Claire felt sick.
“No.”
“She drove to see you the night she died.”
The greenhouse became soundless.
Claire remembered the headlines.
Caroline Ashford had died when her SUV left a rain-slicked road.
Authorities had ruled it an accident.
Margaret reached into the envelope.
There was one final item.
A photocopy of a letter.
At the top was Claire’s name.
Caroline had written:
If Margaret has told you I abandoned you, please know that is not true.
Claire could not breathe.
“Where is the original?”
“Missing.”
“Who knew she was coming to find me?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Three people.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
Margaret looked toward the dead vines.
“Grant’s former business partner, Richard Vale.”
Claire waited.
“And?”
Margaret’s eyes finally met hers.
“Grant.”
Claire stepped backward.
“No.”
“He knew Caroline had found you.”
“Did he know why?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire turned toward the door.
Margaret called after her.
“Claire.”
She stopped.
“If you start asking questions about Caroline’s death, understand something.”
“What?”
Margaret’s voice dropped.
“The accident report was changed.”
Claire stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because I paid the man who changed it.”
May you like
And just outside the greenhouse, hidden behind the fogged glass, someone quietly lifted a phone and sent one message.
She knows.
