Chapter 7: Sunday Night
I told Tristan everything.
Not in the hallway.
Not in the study with Linda still sitting in the chair and Gerald still behind the desk.
I waited until we were alone — until the reception had wound down and the buses had carried the last guests away and we were standing in the small guest room Gerald had prepared for us at the top of the house.
Tristan sat on the edge of the bed.
I sat beside him.
And I told him about the phone call, about Robert's offer, and about the background check.
He was quiet for a long time after.
"Eighteen months ago," he said.
"Yes."
"While we were together."
"Yes."
He looked at the wall.
"And you didn't know."
"I didn't know," I said.
"I found out tonight.
Same as you."
"But you knew your grandfather was watching.
You knew he was evaluating me."
"I knew he wanted to meet you on his own terms.
I didn't know he'd gone that far."
Tristan stood up and walked to the window.
The garden below was dark now.
The lights in the trees had been switched off.
The tables were empty.
"I'm not angry at you," he said.
"You're allowed to be."
"I know." He turned around.
"I'm angry at the situation.
There's a difference."
"Is there?"
He looked at me for a moment.
"Yes.
There is." He came back and sat down.
"What do you want to do about Robert?"
"I don't want to give him the estate."
"I didn't think you did."
"But I need to know if the background check is something he can actually use."
Tristan picked up his phone.
He had three messages from Marcus already.
He read them, then handed me the phone.
The third message said: *Background check through an employer is a grey area but not illegal if done through a third-party firm without direct coercion.
It won't hold up as misconduct in probate.
He's bluffing on that one.*
"Marcus is good," I said.
"He's very good." Tristan took the phone back.
"Robert's actual filing — the false pretenses argument — is that the only thing he has?"
"Gerald thinks so."
"Then we don't disclaim anything.
We respond to the filing, we document everything Linda was told by Robert, and we let the court see that he manipulated her into interfering with the wedding specifically to manufacture the grounds for his challenge."
I looked at him.
"You've been thinking about this since the study," I said.
"Since the garden," he said.
"When I saw his name on that letter."
Outside the door, the house was quiet.
Down the hall, Gerald was in his room.
Somewhere on the other side of the house, Linda had been given a guest room too — Gerald's doing, not mine.
I had not argued with it.
"There's one more thing," I said.
Tristan waited.
"Robert said I had until Sunday night." I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
"It's Sunday night."
Tristan's phone was already in his hand.
He typed a message to Marcus.
Sent it.
Then he opened his contacts, found a number, and held the phone out to me.
"It's Gerald's attorney," he said.
"Her name is Patricia.
Gerald gave me the number an hour ago.
He said to call her when we were ready."
I took the phone.
"He knew we'd say no," I said.
"He was counting on it."
I pressed call.
Patricia answered on the second ring, as if she had been waiting.
"I was wondering when you'd call," she said.
"I've been looking at Robert's filing since Thursday.
I have some thoughts."
"So do we," I said.
"Good." I heard papers moving.
"Because he made a mistake.
May you like
A significant one.
And I think you're going to want to hear it before Monday morning."
