Chapter 6: The Woman Who Knew Everything
My sister Patrice arrived forty minutes later with a bottle of wine she didn't open and a look on her face that told me she'd driven the whole way deciding what not to say.
She sat across from me at the kitchen table.
I laid everything out between us — the photographs, the receipt, Rosa's note, the screenshots of the birthday card and the little girl.
Patrice didn't speak for a long time.
"How are you sitting there so calmly?" she finally said.
"I don't know," I said.
"I think I'm still waiting to feel it."
She picked up the screenshot of the birthday card.
Read it.
Set it down.
"Daddy loves you," she said quietly.
"Yes."
"Claire." She looked at me.
"This isn't just an affair."
"I know."
"This is a whole other life."
"I know, Patrice."
She stood up and filled two glasses of water and brought them back to the table because that was what Patrice did when she didn't know what else to do.
She sat down and pushed one glass toward me.
"What do you want to happen?" she asked.
"I want to know the truth.
All of it.
Not his version."
"Then you need to talk to her."
I looked at the contact photo I'd seen on Ethan's phone.
Diane Marsh.
Warm smile.
The necklace at her throat.
"I know," I said.
"Do you want me to help you find her?"
"I already know her name.
Ethan showed me her contact."
Patrice raised both eyebrows.
"He showed you."
"He didn't have much choice."
"And you remember the last name?"
"Diane Marsh." I'd repeated it to myself the whole time I was sitting on the bed.
The way you repeat a phone number before you can write it down.
Patrice had her phone out before I finished the sentence.
She was quiet for a moment, scrolling.
"There's a Diane Marsh in Millbrook," she said.
"Forty-one.
Works in healthcare administration." She turned the phone toward me.
A professional profile photo.
The same woman.
No necklace in this one, but the same dark hair, the same direct look at the camera.
"That's her," I said.
Patrice set the phone down.
"You're going to contact her."
"I need to know about the child.
Ethan will lie.
He's already lied about everything else.
But she might tell me the truth if I ask her directly."
"Or she might warn him."
"Maybe.
But I have the photographs.
I have the receipt.
I have Rosa's note and the screenshots of the birthday card.
Whatever she tells him, I already have more than he knows I have."
Patrice was quiet for a moment.
"There's something else you should think about," she said carefully.
"What?"
"If there's a child, and the child is his — " She stopped.
Started again.
"You need a lawyer before you do anything else.
Before you contact Diane.
Before you confront Ethan again.
Before any of it."
I looked at her.
"Because whatever you say and do from this point forward is going to matter," she said.
"In ways you can't predict right now."
She was right.
I knew she was right.
But sitting in that kitchen with the photographs spread across the table, the last thing I wanted was to slow down and be careful.
"First thing tomorrow," I said.
"Tonight," Patrice said.
"I know someone.
She handles family law.
She'll take a call tonight."
She was already dialing before I could answer.
The lawyer's name was Grace Ellison.
She answered on the third ring, listened without interrupting while Patrice explained the outline, and then asked to speak to me directly.
"Tell me everything," Grace said.
"From the beginning.
Don't leave anything out."
I looked at the photographs.
At the receipt.
May you like
At the little girl with dark hair and a gap-toothed smile.
"It started," I said, "with a cleaning lady."
