Chapter 6: Gerald
Daniel looked at me over Emily's head.
"Gerald Marsh," he said.
"Rebecca's family lawyer.
He's been her mother's attorney for twenty years."
We were sitting on a low stone wall at the side of the chapel.
Emily had fallen asleep against my shoulder — the deep, sudden sleep of a child who has used up every resource she had.
I kept one hand on her back.
"How do you know that name?" I said.
"Because he called me," Daniel said.
"Six weeks ago.
Asked me some questions about you.
Your finances.
Whether you had a will.
Whether Emily was named in it."
I looked at him.
"I didn't think anything of it at the time," he said.
"I thought it was routine.
Pre-nuptial research, something like that.
I should have told you.
I'm sorry."
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing useful.
I said I didn't know the details of your finances and he should speak to you directly." Daniel paused.
"He never did, did he."
"No."
"That's when I started paying attention," Daniel said.
"That's when I started watching the phone."
"You were watching her phone?"
"She left it on the table at the rehearsal dinner.
She went to the bathroom and it lit up.
I saw the name Hillcrest.
I didn't touch it then.
But I remembered it."
I looked down at Emily.
Her breathing had slowed.
The flowers in her hair had come completely loose now.
One was resting against my sleeve.
"This morning," Daniel said, "before the ceremony, she put her phone down on the gift table in the foyer.
She was talking to the photographer.
I picked it up.
I know I shouldn't have."
"I'm glad you did."
"Nathan." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"There's something else in those messages.
Something I didn't show you inside because I didn't want to say it in front of Emily."
I waited.
"There's a message from Gerald Marsh.
Dated two months ago." Daniel took a breath.
"He was advising Rebecca on what would happen to Emily's trust fund if Emily was placed in residential care and you — as the sole managing trustee — were no longer in a position to manage it."
The stone wall was cold through my jacket.
"Emily has a trust fund," I said.
"From her mother's estate.
I'm the trustee until Emily turns twenty-five."
"I know."
"If I were incapacitated.
Or if I died.
Or if I remarried and the new spouse contested the arrangement—"
"The trust would need a new trustee," Daniel said.
"Appointed by the court.
Or nominated by the surviving guardian."
I sat very still.
"Rebecca would have been my wife," I said.
"She would have been Emily's co-guardian the moment the certificate was signed."
"And she had already researched that a co-guardian's signature was sufficient for residential placement."
"Which would have removed me as the active managing trustee."
"And put the question of a replacement trustee before a family court judge." Daniel looked at me steadily.
"With Gerald Marsh representing the interested party."
Emily stirred in my sleep.
I pressed my hand more firmly against her back.
"She was never going to hurt Emily," I said.
It came out like a question.
"I don't think so," Daniel said.
"I think she wanted the money.
I think Emily was the obstacle between her and the money, and she found a legal path around the obstacle."
"A path that involved putting my daughter in a facility."
"Yes."
The chapel doors opened behind us.
Rebecca's sister came out — a woman named Claire, who I had always liked, who had once spent an entire afternoon teaching Emily how to braid friendship bracelets.
She stopped when she saw us.
"Nathan," she said.
"I need to talk to you.
Without Rebecca.
May you like
Without my mother."
Her hands were shaking.
