Chapter 7: What Eleanor Finally Said
I did not go to my office on Monday morning.
I went to my mother's house.
Clara had advised against it.
She wanted everything conducted through attorneys, on the record, with documentation at every step.
She was right about that.
She was right about most things.
But there was a conversation that needed to happen between Eleanor Drake and her son before it happened between Eleanor Drake and anyone else.
Some things belong to the family first, even when the family is the problem.
Eleanor's housekeeper let me in without a word.
She had worked for my mother for twenty-two years.
She showed me to the morning room and brought tea I didn't ask for and left without making eye contact.
My mother was seated at the small writing desk near the window.
She was dressed.
She was always dressed by seven.
She did not turn around when I came in.
"I wondered if you'd come yourself or send the lawyer," she said.
"I came myself."
She turned then.
She looked tired in a way I had never seen before.
Not physically tired.
Something deeper.
"Sit down, Julian."
I sat.
She looked at her hands.
"How much does your attorney know?"
"Everything."
"The portfolio."
"Yes."
"The campaign funds."
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment.
"Richard moved faster than I anticipated."
"He moved to protect himself.
He wasn't protecting you."
Something passed across her face.
"No.
I don't suppose he was."
"Did you know about the campaign funds?"
She looked at me directly.
"No."
"Mother."
"I knew about the portfolio.
I knew about the routing arrangement.
I did not know he was using it to move campaign money.
That was Richard acting on his own." Her voice was even, but something underneath it had changed.
"I am not defending what I did six years ago.
I am telling you the specific truth about what I knew and what I didn't."
"You threatened a pregnant woman."
"Yes."
"You intercepted a letter meant for me."
"Yes."
"You used Richard to do it."
She looked at the window.
"Richard came to me.
He told me Naomi was pregnant.
He told me she was planning to use the pregnancy to secure a claim on the Drake estate.
He made it sound like a calculated move." A pause.
"I believed him.
I shouldn't have.
I knew what I wanted to believe, and he gave it to me."
The room was very quiet.
"Why did he want her gone?" I asked.
"Because he wanted the firm." Her voice was flat.
"He had wanted it for years.
He knew that if you married and had a child, the estate planning your father had put in place would make an outside takeover structurally impossible.
He needed you to remain the sole heir with no direct dependents." She paused.
"He told me he was protecting the family legacy.
I told myself the same thing.
We were both protecting ourselves."
I looked at my mother.
Seventy-one years old.
Silver hair.
Pearls.
The face I had known my entire life.
"You have a granddaughter," I said.
Her hands moved slightly in her lap.
"I saw her eyes," she said quietly.
"She's six years old.
She draws buildings.
She carries things in her purse because she likes to be prepared." I kept my voice steady.
"She named herself after my grandfather.
Naomi did that.
She gave our daughter a name from my family, even after what you did to her."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"I know what I owe," she said.
"I'm not certain it can be repaid."
"It can't.
But there are things you can do." I leaned forward.
"Clara needs a full written account of your arrangement with Richard.
Every detail.
The portfolio, the introduction, the letter, the threat you made to Naomi.
All of it, in your own words, signed."
She opened her eyes.
"That will expose me to significant legal risk."
"Yes."
"You're asking me to do it anyway."
"I'm asking you to tell the truth.
For once.
Completely." I held her gaze.
"Naomi spent six years raising my daughter alone in this city because she was afraid of what you would do to her.
She never left Portland.
She drove past my buildings.
She told Mia I build with my heart." My voice stayed level.
It cost me something to keep it that way.
"The least you can do is make sure Richard doesn't walk away from this clean while she carries the rest of it."
Eleanor looked at me for a long time.
Then she reached into the desk drawer and produced a single sheet of paper and a pen.
"Tell your attorney to expect a call from me this afternoon," she said.
She turned to the window and began to write.
I stood and walked to the door.
"Julian."
I stopped.
She didn't turn around.
"The building," she said.
"The children's center.
I've driven past it.
I've always thought it was the best thing you ever designed."
I looked at her back.
At the pen moving across the paper.
May you like
"It was Naomi's idea," I said.
I left her there, writing.
