Chapter 6: The Call He Shouldn't Have Made
He called four more times that day.
I didn't answer any of them.
By the third call, Grace had already drafted a formal communication instructing Grant and his representatives to direct all contact through her office.
By the fourth, she had sent it.
The fifth contact came differently.
At half past two, while I was in my studio reviewing a site plan for a client project — trying to hold the ordinary shape of my work day — my phone rang with Celeste's name on the screen.
I stared at it.
She had added herself to my contacts at some point during the wedding weekend.
I hadn't noticed.
I answered.
"Mara." Her voice was careful.
Not hostile.
Careful in the way of someone who has been told to make a call and is deciding, in real time, how much of the instruction to follow.
"Grant asked me to reach out."
"Celeste, I have to tell you that my attorney has asked me not to discuss the matter with Grant or anyone acting on his behalf."
A pause.
"I'm not acting on his behalf.
I'm — I found out this morning what's happening.
What he did." Another pause, longer.
"What he apparently did."
I waited.
"He told me it was a misunderstanding.
A paperwork issue from years ago that got complicated." Her voice was steady but thin at the edges.
"He said you were upset and that your husband's people were making it into something it wasn't."
"Celeste—"
"I'm not calling to defend him." The thin edge sharpened.
"I'm calling because I want to know if it's true.
I want to know from you."
I thought about what Grace would say.
I thought about Celeste at the altar two days ago, genuinely happy, her hand on her stomach.
"I can't discuss the specifics," I said.
"My attorney has been very clear about that."
"But you filed.
He told me you filed."
"Yes."
Silence.
"How much?" she asked quietly.
"I can't—"
"How much did he take from you?"
I closed my eyes.
"Celeste.
You need your own attorney.
Not Grant's attorney.
Your own.
Someone who represents only you.
Do you understand what I'm saying?"
A long pause.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed — lower, slower, as though something had just settled into place that she had been holding off.
"He said you were bitter," she said.
"He said you never got over the divorce and that you'd been looking for a way to cause problems."
"I know."
"I believed him." She stopped.
"I believed him until I saw the look on his face when Matthew called this morning."
I didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I don't know exactly what I'm apologizing for yet.
But I'm sorry."
She ended the call.
I sat with the phone in my hand for a moment.
Then I called Grace.
"Celeste Rowan called me," I said when she picked up.
"She reached out on her own.
I told her nothing specific.
I told her to get her own attorney."
"Good," Grace said.
"Did she say anything useful?"
"She said Grant's face changed when Matthew called this morning."
Grace was quiet for a moment.
"Matthew called Grant this morning?"
"That's what she said."
"I need to speak with Matthew," Grace said.
"Today."
She paused, and I heard her writing something.
"Mara — Grant is going to move.
He knows the filing is coming and he's going to try to get ahead of it.
I need you to check something for me.
The eleven thousand dollars Grant deposited into your account during the divorce — do you still have the bank records showing the source of that transfer?"
I pulled up my files on the second monitor.
I had scanned everything years ago, out of a habit of caution I hadn't known I would need.
"Yes," I said.
"I have them."
"Send them tonight.
And Mara—" Grace's voice dropped slightly.
"Don't let the children go anywhere without you or Theo for the next few days.
I don't expect anything.
But I don't like that text message."
I looked at the studio window.
May you like
The October light was flat and grey.
"Neither do I," I said.
