Chapter 4 - REBECCA KNEW BEFORE HER MOTHER DID
Patricia recovered faster than everyone else.
She always did.
“You own Wintermere?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Four years.”
“And you never told us?”
I almost smiled.
“You never asked what I was doing unless you needed something.”
George looked uncomfortable.
Several relatives suddenly became fascinated by the Christmas tree.
Patricia picked up the canceled reservation papers.
“Then this is easily fixed.”
“No.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“The reservation remains canceled.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am.”
“We have twelve people standing here.”
“Eleven.”
Patricia frowned.
I continued.
“You didn’t invite me.”
That finally embarrassed her.
Only slightly.
“This was supposed to be a smaller family gathering.”
“Apparently not small enough to exclude cousins I haven’t seen in six years.”
Nobody spoke.
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Sophia, can we talk privately?”
There it was.
Not confusion.
Urgency.
I looked at her.
“Why?”
Her eyes flicked toward Patricia.
That told me Rebecca knew exactly why the booking had been canceled.
Patricia didn’t.
Not yet.
“Because this is getting ugly,” Rebecca said.
I remembered the phrase.
Patricia used it whenever someone stopped cooperating.
Don’t make this ugly.
Translation:
Continue being useful quietly.
I walked toward the private office.
Rebecca followed.
James remained outside with the family.
The moment the door closed, Rebecca turned on me.
“What did you find?”
Not why did you cancel?
What did you find?
I leaned against the desk.
“What do you think I found?”
Her face drained.
“Sophia.”
“Start talking.”
“It wasn’t what it looks like.”
I nearly laughed.
That sentence should be printed on fraud indictments.
“What does forty-one thousand dollars look like, Rebecca?”
She sat down.
“You weren’t using that account.”
“It’s my company.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“With what?”
She looked away.
Rebecca had spent most of adulthood performing wealth she didn’t actually possess.
Her husband made good money.
Not Vale-family money.
Not the lifestyle Patricia had taught her to expect.
Designer clothes.
Club dues.
Private school.
Weekends in Palm Beach.
Luxury Christmases.
She had built her life around appearances.
Apparently, she had been financing the gap with me.
“How long?”
“Not long.”
“Eighteen months.”
Her eyes snapped up.
I had the answer.
She knew it.
“Does Patricia know?”
“No.”
I studied her.
“Does George?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
Rebecca hesitated.
That was enough.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“Sophia, please.”
“Who?”
Then Patricia opened the office door without knocking.
“Why are you two whispering?”
Rebecca stood too quickly.
“Nothing.”
Patricia looked at her daughter.
Then at me.
Her suspicion finally woke up.
“What did Rebecca do?”
I could have told her.
Instead, I placed a copy of the card statement on the desk.
Patricia picked it up.
Her expression changed.
Then something surprising happened.
She didn’t look shocked.
May you like
She looked angry at Rebecca for getting caught.
That was when I realized Rebecca wasn’t the only person who knew.
