Chapter 5 - The Man Who Asked First
Nathan waited by the workbench with two security employees. One was young enough to look embarrassed. The other stared firmly at the floor.
“You broke into company property,” Nathan said.
“Esther unlocked the door.”
“Esther had no right.”
“She is still a trustee and board member. Let's ask her.”
He glanced at Theo. The old setter stepped between us without touching either of us.
“There's no reason for anybody to stand this close,” Theo said. “We can all talk like adults.”
For the first time I noticed Nathan's hand resting against his thigh, fingers flexing. The memory of the showroom made me step backward. He noticed that too, and his face changed from anger to something colder.
“You came looking for papers you don't understand,” he said. “Your mother left a failing business. I'm trying to save it.”
I almost told him I'd found the checks. Instead I asked why he'd contacted my father before our wedding.
Nathan's gaze snapped toward Theo.
“Whatever he's told you, Emma, you need to remember your mother wasn't a saint.”
It was the first honest thing he'd said about her in years. Mother had been stubborn, secretive, and capable of making an apology sound like an instruction. But he said it like a man expecting those flaws to erase his own.
When Nathan finally stepped aside, Theo walked me to the sidewalk.
“I should have spoken up,” he said. “Your father visited the workshop once, about five years ago. Nathan took him upstairs. They talked until after dark.”
“You kept that from me?”
“Your mother made it clear you didn't want contact.”
“I wasn't given a choice.”
He lowered his eyes. I left before I said something I couldn't take back.
Across town, Ruth had brought three thick account books to Maya's office. She explained that she'd been reconciling the royalties after Mother died when she discovered payment instructions sent to an address in Vermont. The payments were authorized, but someone later changed the correspondence field to the name Larkin Consulting.
“The same name as the buyer?” Maya asked.
“Similar, not necessarily the same entity,” Ruth said. “But enough to ask who set it up.”
On an older page Ruth pointed to a visitor note written in blue ink. Martin Vale—appointment arranged by Nathan Rourke. The date was six months before our wedding.
“I thought I married a man who admired my mother's work,” I said.
May you like
Maya closed the ledger gently.
“It looks like he may have entered your life knowing much more about your family than you knew about his.”
