Chapter 7: James
I called James at eight the next morning.
He answered on the fourth ring, which was two rings longer than usual.
"Ethan.
I was going to call you today.
How are the kids?"
"Fine," I said.
"I need to ask you something directly."
"Of course."
"Did Vanessa contact you before she filed the guardianship petition?"
A pause.
Short, but there.
"What petition?"
"James."
"I don't know what you're—"
"She was recorded," I said.
"In my hallway.
Four nights ago.
Asking someone to keep me in London until Friday.
You called me the next morning and told me the Singapore meeting had been pushed back."
Silence.
"The meeting was pushed back," he said.
"That was real."
"Was it?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"Ethan, listen to me.
It's more complicated than it looks."
"Then explain it to me simply."
I heard him exhale.
"She approached me eight weeks ago.
She said she was concerned about the children.
That you were traveling too much, that the kids needed more stability.
She asked if I could help manage your schedule — keep certain trips extended when necessary.
She said it was for the children's benefit."
"And you believed her."
"I thought—" He stopped.
"She was convincing.
And I thought, honestly, that she had a point about the travel.
I didn't know about any petition.
I didn't know about the asset claim.
She told me it was about custody arrangements.
Not—" His voice tightened.
"Not what you're describing."
"She promised you a share of the estate transfer," I said.
"I heard it."
Silence.
"James."
"I didn't know it was an estate transfer," he said.
"She said there would be a finder's fee.
For facilitating the schedule management.
I thought it was a consulting arrangement.
I didn't ask enough questions.
I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like you helped her keep me away from my children."
The line was quiet for a long time.
"Yes," he said.
"I did.
I didn't understand what I was helping with, but that's what I did."
I looked out the kitchen window.
Sophie was in the garden with Grace, crouched beside the rose bed.
She was pointing at something in the soil.
Grace was nodding.
"I need you to give a statement to my attorney," I said.
"Everything she told you.
Every communication.
Every payment discussed."
"Ethan—"
"That's not a request, James."
Another silence.
Then: "All right."
"Sandra Okafor.
She'll contact you today."
I ended the call.
Grace came in through the garden door a few minutes later, Sophie behind her holding a clump of something green.
"Mint," Sophie announced.
"Grace says we can put it in water and it'll grow roots."
"She's right," I said.
Sophie looked at me with the particular attention of a child who has learned to read adult faces for information.
"Are you okay, Daddy?"
"I'm working on it."
She considered this.
Then she put the mint in a glass on the windowsill, filled it with water, and went back outside.
Grace watched her go.
"She asked me this morning," Grace said quietly, "whether Vanessa was coming back."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her that was up to you."
"She's not coming back," I said.
Grace nodded.
She started toward the hallway, then stopped.
"Mr.
Calloway.
There's something else you should know.
About the photograph she took down.
The one of Claire."
I waited.
"I found it in the recycling bin and I put it back.
But two days later it was gone again.
I looked everywhere.
I thought she'd thrown it away a second time." Grace paused.
"I found it last night.
When I was packing her things from the guest room."
"Where was it?"
"In her suitcase.
Wrapped in a scarf.
She'd been keeping it."
I didn't say anything for a moment.
"Why would she keep it?" Grace said.
I didn't have an answer.
May you like
I wasn't sure I wanted one.
But I knew that whatever Vanessa had wanted from this house, it had been more than money.
