Chapter 7: She Already Knows
"Who is she?" I asked.
Dylan was already typing back.
"I don't know," he said.
"It could mean Paulette.
It could mean Nora." He set the phone down.
"It could mean someone else entirely."
"Someone else."
"Your husband had forty years," Dylan said.
"There may be things even Carol's husband didn't document."
I sat back down at the table.
The thought should have been overwhelming.
It wasn't.
Something had settled in me in the last hour — not peace exactly, but a kind of clarity.
The shape of the lie was large.
I understood that now.
Understanding the shape of it made it easier to stand inside, somehow, than not knowing the shape at all.
"Call Raymond," I said.
"Don't text.
Call him and ask him directly what he means."
Dylan picked up his phone and dialed.
It rang four times.
Then a man's voice, older, cautious.
"Dylan."
"Raymond.
I'm with Mrs.
Holland right now.
We got your message.
Who are you talking about?"
A pause.
"Nora," Raymond said.
"She found the account statements six months ago.
She's been asking questions.
I've been trying to manage it, but she's — she's not the kind of person who lets things go."
"What kind of questions?"
"About where the money came from.
About the property.
About her education." Another pause, longer.
"About whether she has any legal claim to any of it."
Dylan looked at me across the table.
I leaned forward slightly.
"Put him on speaker," I said quietly.
Dylan set the phone on the table between us.
"Raymond," I said.
"This is Patricia Holland.
I want to ask you something directly."
A long silence.
"Mrs.
Holland." His voice was careful.
Rehearsed, almost.
"I want you to know that I—"
"Did your brother tell Nora who he was?"
Silence.
"Did she know she had an uncle?" I pressed.
"Did she know where the money was coming from?"
"Not at first," Raymond said slowly.
"He told her — he told her the money came from a family trust.
That it had been set aside for her before she was born."
"And she believed that."
"She was a child.
Then she was a teenager.
Then she was in university and the money was just — it was just there.
She didn't question it." He stopped.
"Until six months ago."
"What happened six months ago?"
"She found a photograph." Raymond's voice dropped.
"Of her mother.
And a man she didn't recognize.
And she started asking her mother who he was.
And Paulette—" He stopped again.
"Paulette told her," Dylan said.
"Paulette told her everything," Raymond said.
"About your husband.
About the arrangement.
About you."
I pressed my hands flat on the table.
"Where is Nora now?" I asked.
"That's the problem," Raymond said.
"I don't know.
She stopped returning my calls three weeks ago.
Right around the time I reached out to Dylan."
"You think she's going to make a move," Dylan said.
It wasn't a question.
"I think she already has," Raymond said.
"I think that's why I'm scared.
She's angry and she's smart and she feels like she's owed something.
And I don't know what she's going to do with that."
I looked at Dylan.
Dylan looked at me.
"Raymond," I said.
"Give me Paulette's number."
"Mrs.
Holland, I don't think that's—"
"Her number, Raymond."
A very long pause.
Then he read it out.
Dylan wrote it down on the back of the envelope without being asked.
"We'll be in touch," Dylan said, and ended the call.
The kitchen was quiet again.
Outside, a bird landed on the empty feeder, looked around, and flew away.
"You're going to call her," Dylan said.
"Yes."
"Do you want me to leave the room?"
I thought about it.
"No," I said.
"Stay."
I picked up my own phone.
Dialed the number Raymond had given me.
It rang twice.
A woman answered.
Her voice was low, even, and completely unsurprised.
"Mrs.
May you like
Holland," she said.
"I've been expecting your call."
