Chapter 6 - The House Without Her
Nina came home from London on a morning flight and entered her apartment carrying one suitcase, two croissants, and enough anger to make Adrian step backward.
She hugged him anyway.
Then she went straight to Oliver.
"Hello, tiny man," she whispered.
Oliver grabbed her hair.
Nina laughed and cried at the same time.
Adrian watched from the kitchen.
He had slept ninety minutes.
The pediatric nurse had gone at dawn after Oliver completed a second uneventful night. Adrian had refused to hire a replacement immediately. He wanted, for reasons he could not fully explain, to know what twenty-four hours alone with his son actually required.
By nine-thirty he had changed three diapers, washed two bottles, started a load of laundry with too much detergent, answered one urgent work call, burned oatmeal, and discovered that Oliver considered electrical cords a personal invitation.
Nina noticed the baby gate leaning unopened against the wall.
"You know that doesn't work through suggestion, right?"
"I'm assembling it."
"With what, grief?"
"Very funny."
She set Oliver in the travel crib.
"When are you going back to the house?"
Adrian looked toward the windows.
"I don't know."
"You can't hide here forever."
"I'm not hiding."
Nina raised an eyebrow.
"You're in my apartment wearing the same shirt you wore yesterday while your staff sends groceries to my doorman."
"Temporary relocation."
"Ah. Hospitality language. Much healthier."
Adrian opened the croissant bag just to avoid answering.
Nina watched him.
"I listened to the audio file you sent me."
He had shared only the recording in which Claire discussed leaving him. Nothing about Vanessa, nothing Claire had marked private.
"And?"
"And I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For saying you only respond to emergencies."
"Claire said it first."
"Yes, but she's dead, so you can't argue with her. I am available."
Despite himself, he smiled.
Nina's expression softened.
"She loved you."
"People keep saying that like it cancels the rest."
"It doesn't."
"She was going to leave."
"For a while. Maybe."
"Don't soften it."
Nina picked at the paper bag.
"I'm not. I'm saying people can be one train ride from leaving and still not know what they'll do when they reach the station."
Adrian looked at her.
"That's a very specific metaphor."
"I once packed a bag to leave Mark and got as far as Newark Penn."
Adrian blinked.
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you would have sent a car, a lawyer, and a spreadsheet."
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Nina gave him a pointed look.
"Exactly."
The doorbell rang.
A courier delivered a sealed envelope from Cole Hospitality's outside counsel. Adrian signed, carried it to the kitchen, and left it unopened.
"You're not reading that?" Nina asked.
"Later."
"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
Adrian looked at Oliver, who was chewing the edge of a cloth book.
"I need to go back to the mansion."
Nina's joking expression disappeared.
"Today?"
"I need clothes. Oliver's things. Claire's laptop if it's still there."
"Why?"
"The police asked if Vanessa had access to Claire's devices. I don't know."
"And you want to walk through that hall again."
"No."
Nina waited.
Adrian put both palms on the counter.
"But I need to."
They left Oliver with Nina's longtime friend, a pediatric occupational therapist who lived in the building and whom Nina trusted enough to threaten with death if she lost sight of the baby.
The mansion felt colder when Adrian entered without Oliver.
The security company had replaced the broken seal on the main camera housing after police technicians copied the footage. A faint strip of blue evidence tape remained near the console table.
Adrian did not look up at the balcony at first.
He walked to the nursery.
Claire's photograph still sat beside the rocking chair.
She was laughing in it, head turned away from the camera, eight months pregnant with Oliver. Vanessa had taken the picture during a weekend in Maine.
Adrian had always thought the photograph proved how close the two women were.
Now he wondered whether every object in the room would become a question.
"Don't do that," Nina said behind him.
"Do what?"
"Rewrite every happy memory because one person turned out to be dangerous. Claire was happy in that picture. You can see it. Let her have that."
Adrian nodded.
He opened the wardrobe.
Half the left side was empty.
"Where are his clothes?"
Nina stepped closer.
Several drawers had been cleared.
Adrian called the house manager, Mrs. Patel.
She arrived within minutes, still wearing the navy suit she always wore when staff schedules were changing.
"Mr. Cole."
She glanced at Nina, then at the open wardrobe.
"Where are Oliver's things?" Adrian asked.
Mrs. Patel's face became careful.
"Ms. Sterling instructed housekeeping to move some items to the third-floor suite."
"Why?"
"She said the nursery was being redecorated after the engagement party."
Adrian stared at her.
"Did I approve that?"
Mrs. Patel hesitated.
"She said you had."
Nina closed her eyes.
Adrian felt his pulse in his temples.
"What else did she say I approved?"
Mrs. Patel looked genuinely frightened now.
"Several things."
They sat in the nursery while Mrs. Patel listed them.
Vanessa had changed two staff schedules so Maria would have fewer evening hours with Oliver.
She had canceled Claire's mother's monthly visit once, claiming Adrian wanted "family quiet."
She had told the chef to stop preparing Claire's favorite Sunday breakfast because Adrian found it upsetting.
She had instructed the gardener to remove a small bed of lavender Claire planted along the east terrace because Adrian planned to redesign the grounds.
Adrian had authorized none of it.
"Why didn't anyone ask me?" he said.
Mrs. Patel looked down.
"Because Ms. Sterling was your fiancée. And because when Mr. Benton questioned her about the staff schedule, he was dismissed."
Adrian stared.
"Benton resigned."
"He was given the option to resign."
"By whom?"
Mrs. Patel did not answer.
She did not need to.
Adrian stood.
"Get me his number."
Nina touched his arm.
"Before you start fixing, listen."
He turned.
She nodded toward Mrs. Patel.
Adrian sat again.
Mrs. Patel took a breath.
"Mr. Cole, after Mrs. Cole died, everyone was afraid of making your life harder. Ms. Sterling knew that. She often said she was protecting you from details."
Adrian looked at Claire's photograph.
A man who responded only to emergencies had built a house where people learned to hide small fires.
"No more," he said.
Mrs. Patel nodded.
Adrian walked to the crib and rested his hand on the rail.
On the floor beneath it was a small white square.
He bent and picked it up.
It was the backing from double-sided mounting tape.
"What was hanging here?"
Mrs. Patel looked at the wall.
A lighter rectangle showed where something had been removed.
"Mrs. Cole's handwritten bedtime poem," she said.
Adrian's throat tightened.
"Where is it?"
May you like
No one knew.
