Chapter 1
“Now let’s discuss what your father owes me.”
Celia’s purse hit the carpet.
The clasp snapped open.
Coins rolled first.
Then three folded pay envelopes slid halfway out.
Elodie stared at them.
So did I.
Her name was written on the first.
Not in household payroll handwriting.
In Celia’s.
I bent and picked it up.
“Elodie.”
She looked frightened.
“Is this yours?”
“Yes.”
“How many weeks?”
Her eyes lowered.
“Fourteen.”
The pavilion went completely silent.
I opened the envelope.
Empty.
Second.
Empty.
Third.
Also empty.
Celia moved toward me.
“Roderick, this is private.”
I looked at her.
“You scattered coins over a woman kneeling in front of thirty guests.”
My voice stayed low.
“You surrendered privacy.”
Her face hardened.
Elodie still held the clean napkin I had given her.
“Fourteen weeks?” I asked.
She nodded.
“My son got sick last month. I asked for one paycheck.”
Celia cut in.
“She already explained the debt.”
No.
Celia had explained her justification.
Different thing.
I looked at Elodie.
“What was your father’s name?”
“Thomas.”
“Thomas what?”
“Thomas Vale.”
One of the older dinner guests dropped his glass.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
I turned.
Walter Crewe.
Seventy-two.
Former Marden household manager.
Retired twelve years.
He was staring at Elodie as if he had seen a ghost.
“You knew him.”
Walter’s mouth opened.
Celia said sharply:
“Walter, don’t.”
That was all I needed.
I walked toward him.
“Did Thomas Vale owe Wallace Marden money?”
Walter looked at Celia.
Then at me.
“No.”
Elodie stopped breathing.
I waited.
Walter’s hands began shaking.
“Wallace owed Thomas.”
Celia’s face emptied.
There.
The first lie had broken.
“What for?”
Walter whispered:
“For keeping the Marden family alive the year they should have lost everything.”
I looked at my fiancée.
May you like
Her father owed me eight million dollars.
Apparently that was not the first debt he had spent decades pretending belonged to someone else.
