Marlene sat at my kitchen table staring down at her hands.
When I finished, she whispered:
“She told me you were having problems.”
“I know.”
“She said you had become suspicious.”
“I know.”
“She said you were checking up on her.”
“I did eventually hire someone.”
Marlene looked up.
“When?”
“After months.”
She closed her eyes.
“I defended her.”
“That’s your daughter.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I told her you needed to stop being controlling.”
That one hurt.
Not because I blamed Marlene.
Because I remembered Vanessa coming home from Sunday lunch with her mother three months earlier and saying:
“Even Mom thinks you’re overreacting.”
Now I understood where that came from.
Marlene began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have asked you.”
“You were hearing your daughter’s version.”
“That doesn’t mean I had to join it.”
I put a box of tissues on the table.
She took one.
“Where is she?”
“Asleep.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m meeting my attorney Monday.”
“You already have an attorney?”
“I consulted one.”
Marlene stared at me.
“How long have you known?”
“I’ve suspected for months.”
“No. Known.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
“A few weeks.”
“And you’ve been living here?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I did not have an answer.
At 8:24, the doorbell rang.
Marlene looked toward the hallway.
“You expecting somebody?”
“No.”
That was true.
I walked to the front door.
Through the glass panel I saw an elderly couple on the porch.
The man stood tall despite his age, maybe seventy-two or seventy-three, wearing an expensive charcoal suit beneath a dark wool overcoat.
His silver hair was combed neatly back.
The woman beside him looked younger by a few years.
She clutched a tissue in one hand.
Her eyes were red.
I opened the door.
“Can I help you?”
The man looked directly at me.
“Are you Roland Pierce?”
“I am.”
He swallowed.
“My name is William Vale.”
My body went cold.
Vale.
I knew the face now.
I had seen photographs on the Vale Meridian corporate website.
Founder.
Chairman.
Desmond’s father.
The woman beside him must have been Eleanor Vale.
William continued.
“This is my wife.”
Eleanor nodded.
“I’m sorry to arrive without calling.”
I said nothing.
William looked past me toward the house.
“May we come inside?”
Every instinct told me not to.
Then I looked at Eleanor.
She was crying before we even entered.
Whatever this was, it was not a victory visit.
I opened the door wider.
“Come in.”
Marlene stood when they entered the living room.
She recognized William too.
Almost everyone in Richmond business circles recognized the Vale name.
William removed his overcoat.
He did not sit immediately.
His eyes moved toward the framed photographs on our wall.
Wedding.
Myrtle Beach.
Christmas.
Vanessa and me standing beneath fall leaves at Maymont.
His face tightened.
Finally he sat.
Eleanor sat beside him.
Marlene remained in the armchair nearest the stairs.
I sat opposite the Vales.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then William said:
“I’ve spent weeks deciding whether I had the right to come here.”