Chapter 7 - Grant Finally Explained The Mission
Vanessa wanted to drive to Grant's house at one in the morning.
I took her keys.
Not elegantly.
She stared at my hand.
“Give them back.”
“No.”
“You are not my mother.”
“Thank God.”
She almost laughed.
Then didn't.
I slid the keys across the table toward Melissa instead.
“Put these somewhere she can't punch me for them.”
Melissa looked deeply unhappy to be part of our reunion.
She took them.
Vanessa called Grant again.
He answered on the third attempt.
“Come back to the hotel,” she said.
“No.”
“Then I’m coming to you.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you're angry.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You trained me to perform angry.”
Grant went quiet.
That landed somewhere old.
I said:
“Grant.”
Silence.
Then:
“Rachel Hayes.”
“Still remember me.”
“Unfortunately.”
His voice sounded older.
Not weaker.
“Why did Celeste call you six weeks ago?”
Vanessa looked sharply at me.
Grant answered after a pause.
“She saw the anniversary announcement.”
“What announcement?”
“The Heritage Crown.”
“So?”
“She recognized it.”
“Then what?”
“She called my office.”
Vanessa leaned closer to the phone.
“How did she get your number?”
“Business websites still exist, Vanessa.”
“Why call you?”
“She said if you put Lily into that crown, you should know what was inside it.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She went still.
“So she knew about Lily.”
Grant said nothing.
Vanessa's voice lowered.
“How?”
“Internet.”
Of course.
Vanessa's social media had thousands of photographs.
Pageant rehearsal.
Costumes.
Mother-daughter captions.
Celeste did not need a private detective.
She needed Wi-Fi.
“What exactly did she say?” Vanessa asked.
Grant's voice hardened.
“That the ring was still there.”
“And?”
“That you deserved to find it before I did.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
I understood the mission now.
Grant had no idea whether the crown actually still held anything.
He made sure it came out of archives.
Then put Vanessa and Lily close enough to retrieve it.
“You used the pageant,” I said.
Grant replied:
“I funded an anniversary segment that was already being planned.”
“Did you specifically request Vanessa's crown?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Vanessa why?”
“Eventually.”
Vanessa stared at the phone.
“You told me Celeste threatened us.”
“She did.”
“No.”
“You said she wanted to destroy the family.”
“She has spent years rewriting history.”
Vanessa laughed.
“So have we.”
Grant went quiet.
Good.
“What did she threaten?” I asked.
“She said if Vanessa put her own daughter through the same system, she would stop staying quiet.”
Vanessa froze.
I looked at her.
Grant continued:
“She wants attention.”
“About what?”
“Old family grievances.”
“That's vague.”
“They are family grievances.”
Vanessa's voice sharpened.
“Did she say she'd contact Lily?”
“No.”
“Rachel?”
“No.”
“The pageant?”
“No.”
“Then what was the threat?”
Grant didn't answer.
Vanessa understood.
“She threatened to talk to me.”
Silence.
Grant said:
“She has had sixteen years.”
“So have you.”
Vanessa stood.
“I asked you why she called.”
“I told you.”
“No. Why you instead of me?”
Grant's voice lost some of its control.
“Because she wanted me to know she was watching.”
“Watching what?”
“You.”
“Meaning?”
“She thinks you're becoming me.”
Vanessa stopped.
I saw the sentence hit before she could protect herself.
Grant continued quickly:
“She doesn't know your life.”
“You've been watching my life?”
“I’m your father.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Same sentence.
Different daughter.
I almost laughed at the symmetry.
Grant said:
“You were already committed to Lily competing.”
“Yes.”
“I gave you one task. Retrieve the ring before it became another performance from Celeste.”
“And if Lily withdrew?”
“You lost access to the crown.”
Vanessa's mouth opened.
Closed.
Grant continued:
“So yes. I told you to finish the night.”
That was the mission.
No CIA.
No secret organization.
A father telling his thirty-five-year-old daughter to keep a crying seven-year-old onstage so he could control what her grandmother had left behind.
Vanessa looked sick.
I asked:
“Why did you appear in the hallway?”
“I wanted confirmation.”
“Why hide?”
“This is absurd.”
“Then why didn't you walk in?”
No answer.
Because Grant understood exactly how bad the room looked.
Vanessa spoke quietly.
“Did you know what was inside sixteen years ago?”
“I suspected Celeste left something.”
“What did you do with the crown?”
“I donated it.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn't need reminders.”
“You decided.”
“Yes.”
“Did you inspect it?”
Silence.
Vanessa's face changed.
“You did.”
“I checked it.”
“Did you find the ring?”
“No.”
The lining had concealed it.
Celeste had sewn well.
Vanessa looked toward me.
“If Grant never found it…”
“Then he didn't hide the ring from you.”
“No.”
That did not clear him.
It changed one accusation.
Grant said:
“I protected you from a mother who left.”
Vanessa's hand tightened.
“And I protected you from the truth that I told her to stay gone.”
Grant went silent.
He had not known she would say that aloud.
Vanessa continued:
“You needed me abandoned because then I never had to ask why I picked you.”
“Vanessa.”
“No.”
She looked toward the empty ballroom.
“I’m not taking Lily back onstage.”
“The event is over.”
“I mean ever.”
Grant laughed softly.
“You'll calm down.”
Vanessa's face changed.
He had probably said that to her hundreds of times.
Then a small voice came from behind us.
“Mom?”
We turned.
Owen stood near the lobby entrance.
Lily was beside him in pajamas under her coat.
Vanessa moved instantly.
“What happened?”
“She couldn't sleep.”
Owen looked irritated with himself.
“She asked to come back for Bunny.”
A stuffed toy remained in the dressing room.
Lily looked at Vanessa.
Then at the phone.
Grant's voice had gone silent.
Vanessa crouched.
Not touching.
“Sweetheart.”
Lily looked toward the pageant banners.
“Do I have to do another mission?”
Vanessa's face broke.
She reached for Lily, then stopped before contact.
“No.”
Lily watched her.
“No pageant?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Not unless you ask.”
Lily thought about that.
Then:
“I don't want to.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Okay.”
May you like
Grant disconnected the call.
For the first time that night, Vanessa let someone else's no end the conversation.
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