Chapter 2

Twenty-seven minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Nobody moved.

Patricia stood beside the dining table with both hands pressed against its polished edge. Mom had gone strangely quiet. Robert remained near the kitchen doorway, staring at his wife as though seeing her clearly for the first time.

Grandma alone seemed completely calm.

“Emily,” she said to my cousin, “would you please get the door?”

Emily nodded and hurried into the foyer.

A moment later, she returned with two people.

Richard Hale had been Grandma’s attorney for more than twenty years. He was in his early sixties, silver-haired and composed, carrying a leather briefcase.

Beside him stood Clara Bennett, a younger attorney I had met only once at my grandfather’s memorial service.

Clara carried a laptop and a thick blue folder.

Patricia’s expression changed when she saw it.

Grandma noticed.

So did I.

Richard removed his coat.

“Margaret.”

“Thank you for coming.”

He surveyed the room.

“I brought everything you requested.”

Grandma gestured toward the dining table.

“Then let’s begin.”

Patricia finally spoke.

“This is ridiculous. We’re having Thanksgiving dinner, not conducting an investigation.”

Grandma turned to her.

“Then you should be very eager to clear up the misunderstanding.”

Patricia fell silent.

I sat on the couch with Lily sleeping across my lap while Clara opened her laptop.

Richard removed several documents from the folder.

“The original transfer was initiated eighteen months ago,” he explained. “One hundred eighty thousand dollars from Margaret Whitmore’s personal account.”

My pulse quickened.

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