The Witness (7 page)

“Stressful day, Daniel.”

Daniel sighed. “Thank you again. Everyone else has assumed the cash is something I would be thrilled to receive. Not that I’m not going to enjoy it and heading the Benton Group, but it is not all good changes.”

“You were content with life when you were talking me out of investing that first ten thousand with you back in our college days. You’ll see that kind of money as a burden to manage properly. But you’ll do some good with it, which is more than your uncle did in the years he accumulated it.”

“I hope to. My uncle did like to hold on to his wealth.”

“I believe Marsh is skiing with his girlfriend this weekend and they are due back in town late Sunday, so you may have caught a break regarding the younger sister. I’ll get that confirmed for you before you meet the older sister.”

“I’d appreciate it. Marsh’s partner is still Connor Black? I know Connor pretty well.”

“Yes. They’re close off work as well as on, so if you need to get word to Marsh, don’t hesitate to give Connor a call. He’s on vacation at the moment and around this weekend.”

“I’ll do that, if only because there needs to be as many people helping smooth this out as I can find.”

“Come over for dinner tonight, Daniel. I’m putting steaks on the grill, and my sister is bringing her famous chocolate cake. You can tell me about how it went today, and we’ll talk about how I or this office can help you out. I can already envision a few unpleasant people crawling out of the woodwork at the news of that kind of money.”

“Sam Chapel is bringing in Silver Security, Inc. to help out with the press conference, so I’m starting to gear up for those realities. And I’ll gladly accept the dinner invitation.” He rose from the chair. “Tell Margaret thanks for fitting me in on short notice.”

Luke rose too. “I appreciate the heads-up on what is coming.”

Daniel watched the older sister circle his small office, looking at the artwork on the walls, and knew a profound relief that his first impressions of Marie were unqualifiedly positive. He liked her.

“Did you choose this one too?” She turned from the painting to look at him.

He liked her smile. It lit up her face and touched her brown eyes, and there were an appreciation in her words and a warmth that was more personal than formal. She’d swept her hair up and caught its long blonde tresses in an elegant rainbow bow. She was neither tall nor short, her moderate heels chosen for comfort, and the elegance of her deep blue dress suggested that her love of color and style was part of her personality. He leaned back against the front of his desk, relaxed and in no hurry to move her away from the comfort zone of art that was at least a passion they shared.

He indulged her with a study of the painting he had picked up in Texas years before and thought about the gallery owner he’d haggled with for a good half hour before winning the tussle on price and wished he’d had reason to shop Marie’s gallery before this day arrived. “I did, and it cost me almost my last farthing at the time.” He’d sold some old British coins to make way for the painting into his private portfolio and hadn’t regretted the change.

“You’ve got very good tastes, Mr. Goodman.”

“And occasionally the money to indulge them.” He smiled at her. “If I’m buying that Denart in your display window you can at least make it Daniel.”

“I’m not sure I’m selling. It’s not priced yet for a reason.”

His smile widened. “Yeah, I like that about you too. You know a very good painting when you have one.”

He waved his assistant in and took the note she carried. “Thanks, Virginia.” He scanned it and folded it over to slip into his pocket. “I said lunch and I meant it. Would you join me? We have some other business to discuss, and I’ve found a nice meal a better way to talk than sitting around a desk.”

“I’d enjoy that.”

She was being patient with the reason for this requested meeting, but it couldn’t be delayed any longer. He wanted a few things for them both—privacy, a place to walk, and time. It was the time that was running out on him. “Then let me escort you. This place has spacious grounds to walk, and we turned one of the walk paths to the next building into a year-round covered retreat and hothouse for roses with several niches set in for tables and private conversations. Consider it one of the perks of having had an architect in the family as my aunt.”

“Linda worked here too?”

Marie knew something of his family; good prep work before a meeting with a prospective buyer or something more than that? Daniel chose not to ask just yet. “One of the firms on the first floor bears her name.”

“I haven’t said yet that I was sorry to hear about your uncle; I was, Daniel. Henry was a nice man.”

“You met him?”

“A few times. When his wife was alive he liked to stop in and shop for an anniversary gift.” She gave a small smile. “He’d want to discuss the purchase price over coffee and invariably find the number he had in mind to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that, although the choice of paintings fit what Linda would have loved. Linda passed away three years ago, Henry last week, and it’s going to be a different place here without them both around.”

“You’ll miss them.”

“Yes.” There was also relief that some of what he would need to tell her would not be so much about strangers as about human failings.

He led her down the wide, curved staircase and back through the building that was an office building and yet in places carried the feel of a warm museum display gallery. His aunt had chosen well how to soften the marble and wide hallways and business-suite entrances with nooks of casual seating and lighting and carefully arranged art. A constantly changing display of fresh flowers from the hothouse added to the elegance.

Daniel led the way out into the covered walk path. The catered meal was being set up on a linen-covered table past a terraced display of baby roses cascading down in blankets of pink, red, and white. Daniel held a chair for Marie.

“It’s restful here, Daniel. And quite lovely.”

“I admit I often retreat down here to read the morning paper.”

“I can understand why.”

The caterers departed.

He’d left the meal simple, splitting the difference between the sandwich of an informal lunch and the elegance of a formal dinner plate, to request salads, oven-hot bread, and lots of Texas grilling. “You’ll find the beef strips have a touch of spice and the chicken strips less so.”

“It all looks delicious.”

Daniel lifted back the towel from the basket of hot rolls and offered her one.

Marie settled in to enjoy the meal. They talked of inconsequential things for a while and then Marie smiled. “The Denart was a pretty nice opening diversion. Would it be easier if I just asked why you really called?”

“Why do you think I did?”

“Your uncle recently passed away; it might have been expected, but it’s still a substantial impact for you. There’s your uncle and aunt’s home to deal with and this business. Since paintings are the one thing I deal with, I’ll assume you’re making decisions about the estate.”

Daniel nodded. “Could you handle placing a few paintings if I did decide to let go of some my uncle owned?”

“You’d be better off taxwise placing them with a charity or a museum. The upper end of the art market is soft right now.”

He chuckled. “Marie, that was spoken like a wise dealer. Set expectations low and never oversell what is possible.”

“Your uncle owns some magnificent works; I don’t have to see them to know that. He was a man who did his homework before he made a purchase. But placing even three or four of those in the next year isn’t something to be done in this state if you want the best price they can bring. I’ll be glad to recommend a dealer in New York who can do better for you than I can.”

“We’ll discuss it. I have a feeling my uncle landed more often at your number than his own.”

She offered a small smile. “Maybe that too.”

“Did you know your father?”

She blinked at the question asked so out of the blue, but she finished the beef strip she was tasting and then shook her head. “No. My mother died when I was six, an aunt raised us, and I never knew my father.”

“Ever know his name?”

“No. I never asked.”

He wondered at that and the hurt it meant lived inside. The last thing he wanted to do was cause the pain he was about to. He opened his wallet and pulled out a very old black-and-white photo he’d carried for a few weeks now. “This is why I called you.”

He offered the photo to Marie. She set down her fork after the first glance and soon pushed back her plate to set the photo down on the table. She didn’t say anything for a long time. She was looking at a photo of two people, one of whom would be unmistakable to her. “Henry knew my mother.”

“Yes.”

She turned over the photo, but there was no date. He knew the lady was sharp, quick to put together details, and she’d made the connection. He saw it in the way her expression subtly closed. And an awful pallor had begun to creep into her face.

“That was taken when she would have been about twenty-seven,” he said gently.

“You’ve got my attention, Daniel. There’s more.”

He hesitated and then removed the envelope from his inside suit pocket. “Would you recognize your mother’s handwriting?”

She reached for the letter as if she’d aged a few dozen years.

It was the shortest and tamest of the letters he’d discovered in the bank box, written in the good times between Henry and her mom, when he’d arranged to join her for the weekend about a year after Marie was born. The affair had lasted at least six years from what Daniel had been able to piece together.

He watched Marie absorb a hurt so deep it was killing her and tuck it away deep. The pallor had been joined by a hard set to her jaw, and she wasn’t going to let tears come; they were threatening, but staying forced away.

“You’ll have already done more than just speculate that I’m Henry’s daughter.”

“There were paternity tests run at the lawyers’ insistence years ago. Marie, Henry names you and Tracey in his will.”

“Mandy?” she whispered.

There were three sisters, and Henry’s will named only two. “No. I’m so sorry, Marie.” He’d just ripped her family in two. The oldest sister had a different father. The detective’s report said she had passed away years before, and part of Daniel was relieved at that, to not have to tell a third sister that she was, in reality, only a half sister to Marie and Tracey. The fact their mother had never been married suggested both men in her life during the decade the three girls had been born might have already been married, but it was not something he wanted to speculate on.

Marie shoved back her chair and walked away.

Daniel watched her, understanding some of the turmoil she was in.

He rose as she eventually returned and knew she wouldn’t be able to face more of a meal right now. And while the coffee might help, it would be simply patching over the awkward moment.

“Can we walk the grounds? I think … I need to walk.”

“Then let’s walk.” He settled a hand on her arm and guided her down to one of the exits tucked away, which led out to the landscaped grounds.

“This makes me what, your cousin?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets as he nodded. “Yes. I’d say welcome to the family, but I know it doesn’t feel like such good news right now.”

“Not Mandy.” Marie was still focused on the heart of the problem for her. “A six-year-or-more affair with your uncle, and my mom has someone else in her life before that?”

“I don’t know, Marie. My uncle rarely talked about his personal life, my aunt never hinted at past marriage troubles, and while I have information I’ve gleaned from a few saved letters and photos, it’s not much for answers. That kind of time—for what it’s worth it suggests they really did care a lot about each other.”

“Mom died shortly after Tracey was born. I have memories of someone who was happy, who laughed a lot, who liked to dress up, and who loved elegance. Not much to rest a lifetime of memories on. And she was involved with a married man. Didn’t your aunt know? suspect?”

“I honestly don’t think so. She wasn’t a wallflower, passive, or likely to stay in a marriage where her husband strayed. Even for those times and the turmoil of a divorce, she would have left him.”

Marie bit her lip. “My aunt knew.”

“Yes.” Daniel hated this, being the one who had to break the news. “It appears Henry had an arrangement with your aunt and had helped her financially in the past. Henry mentions you and Tracey in his will. He did have a heartfelt desire to recognize his responsibility and name you and Tracey as his daughters; I know he was waiting to do that somewhat out of respect for your aunt. And about the will—there’s money involved.”

She dismissed the words with a shake of her head, not ready to deal with the mention of money yet. She wiped at tears as she walked in silence for long minutes.

“I’m sorry, Daniel. This has to be particularly cruel to you.”

He was surprised at the direction she’d gone with her thoughts. “The one thing I know about family is that they tend to surprise you. And I can’t say I mind the idea of having cousins. Christmas was going to just be me this year and pretty lonely.”