Chapter 9: What Margaret Knew
"She came to me in September," Margaret said.
Daniel was standing outside the motel, the phone pressed to his ear, the ocean audible somewhere beyond the buildings.
"Vanessa came to you."
"Yes.
She said she was worried about you.
She said the pressure of the expansion was affecting your judgment, that you were making decisions that could expose the company to liability.
She said she thought someone close to you needed to know."
"And you believed her."
"I was concerned.
You had been difficult to reach.
You had canceled two Foundation board calls.
I thought—" Margaret stopped.
"I thought she cared about the Foundation.
About you."
"What did you tell her?"
Another pause.
Longer.
"She asked about Amy," Margaret said.
"She asked whether Amy was coping with the demands of your schedule.
She was very gentle about it.
She said she didn't want to pry, but that she had noticed Amy seemed withdrawn at recent events."
"And you told her Amy was struggling."
"I said Amy was tired.
That the past few months had been hard on her.
That I was worried about her too." Margaret's voice tightened.
"I did not tell her anything specific.
I did not tell her Amy was pregnant.
I didn't know Amy was pregnant in September."
"But you knew by the time Amy called you two weeks ago."
Silence.
"Margaret."
"She told me she was tired," Margaret said quietly.
"She said the first trimester had been difficult.
I understood what she meant.
I didn't say the word to anyone.
But—" She stopped again.
"Vanessa was in my office the following Monday.
We were reviewing the gala seating plan.
She asked how Amy was.
I said she was better.
That she seemed to be through the worst of it."
"And Vanessa understood."
"I didn't think—"
"She understood, Mother."
The line was quiet for a moment.
"I gave her the information," Margaret said.
"I didn't know I was doing it.
But I did."
Daniel leaned against the motel wall.
Above him, the sky had gone a deep gray-blue, the first stars just beginning to show.
"She used you," he said.
"She's been using your access, your trust, your relationships with the donors.
She told Robert Aldiss our marriage was unstable."
"Robert—" Margaret's voice changed.
"Robert called me in October.
He said he had concerns about the Foundation's direction.
I couldn't understand why.
We had our strongest year."
"Because it wasn't about the Foundation's direction.
It was about creating a problem that only she could solve."
Margaret said nothing for a long moment.
When she spoke again, her voice was different.
Quieter.
Harder.
"What does Graham have?"
"The fabricated scan.
The false journalist allegation.
The donor meeting.
He's documenting all of it."
"I want to see everything he has."
"I'll have him send it to you directly."
"And Vanessa?"
"She stays in her role until we're ready to move.
I don't want her to know we know."
"Agreed." A pause.
"Daniel — where are you?"
"Newport, Oregon."
"Is Amy there?"
"Yes."
"How is she?"
He thought about Amy at the window, the harbor light fading, the book she hadn't been reading.
"She's stronger than I deserve right now," he said.
Margaret was quiet.
"I made mistakes," he said.
"I know that.
Whatever Vanessa did, I gave her the opening.
I was absent.
I was careless.
I let Amy carry things alone that she shouldn't have had to carry alone."
"Yes," Margaret said simply.
She didn't soften it.
"You did."
"I'm trying to fix it."
"Trying isn't the same as doing."
"I know."
"Come home when Amy is ready," Margaret said.
"Not before.
And Daniel — when you come home, come home differently.
Not with promises.
With behavior."
He almost smiled.
"When did you get so direct?"
"I've always been direct," Margaret said.
"You stopped listening."
He said goodnight and ended the call.
He stood outside for a while longer.
The motel sign buzzed softly above him.
Somewhere down the street, the lights of Tidal Pages were still on.
He thought about what Margaret had said.
*Come home differently.
Not with promises.
With behavior.*
He thought about the appointment cards Amy had left on the kitchen counter for eleven days.
He thought about the suitcase wheels in the hallway at six in the morning, and Amy's voice — *you said this weekend was ours* — and the way he had kissed her forehead like that was a sufficient answer.
He had been building something.
He had told himself it was for both of them.
He had never asked her if she agreed.
His phone lit up.
Graham Fisk.
"One more thing," Graham said.
"I pulled Vanessa's phone records — the ones she submitted for Foundation expense reimbursement.
There are seventeen calls to Robert Aldiss's personal mobile in the past four months.
All after business hours."
"She was working him directly."
"And there's a name that comes up in the Foundation's internal communications that I don't recognize.
A man named Philip Crane.
He's listed as a consultant, but I can't find a contract for him, and he's been copied on several emails between Vanessa and two board members."
"I don't know that name."
"Neither does your mother, according to the board records.
But he's been inside your Foundation's communications for at least six months."
Daniel straightened.
"Find out who Philip Crane is," he said.
"Tonight if you can."
"Working on it," Graham said.
"I'll call you in the morning."
The call ended.
Daniel looked down the street at the light in the bookshop window.
Philip Crane.
A name he had never heard.
May you like
Inside the Foundation for six months.
Whatever Vanessa had been building, it was larger than he had understood.
