Chapter 6 - THE NAME HER MOTHER NEVER EXPLAINED
"Why is my mother's name on this bracelet?"
Tamson held the yellowed plastic toward Sister Agnes.
The elderly nun didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she lowered herself into a wooden chair.
"Caroline was very young when this happened."
"How young?"
"Seventeen."
Tamson looked at the bracelet again.
Her mother would have been seventeen in 1989.
The year Rosemary Bell supposedly died.
"Did she work at the hospital?"
"She volunteered with a children's outreach program."
"Then why would she authorize a transfer?"
Sister Agnes shook her head.
"She didn't have that authority."
"Someone used her initials?"
"Or someone wanted people to believe she was involved."
Tamson sat opposite her.
"Please tell me everything you remember."
The nun folded her hands.
"Rosemary came here several times with Evelyn. She was a bright little girl. Loved coloring books. Always wanted purple crayons."
Tamson pictured the dark-haired child sitting on the brick steps.
"Then one winter, Evelyn stopped bringing her."
"What happened?"
"We were told she became ill."
"And died?"
"That's what Evelyn said."
Sister Agnes looked toward the chapel.
"But weeks later, Caroline came here crying. She told me she'd seen Rosemary alive."
Tamson's stomach tightened.
"Where?"
"At a private medical transport office near the river."
"Did Grandpa know?"
"Eventually."
"Why didn't anyone go to the police?"
Sister Agnes looked at her sadly.
"Caroline was frightened. She believed someone was threatening Evelyn."
Tamson lowered the bracelet.
"Who?"
"I never heard a name."
The nun reached for her hand.
"Your mother wanted to help that child. Whatever happened afterward, don't forget that."
Tamson drove home with more questions than answers.
She had grown up believing Caroline's death was the worst tragedy in her family's history.
Now she wondered what other grief Samuel had carried silently.
At Arden Crest the following morning, Margaret was waiting with troubling news.
"Monarch's payroll account has been frozen."
Tamson stopped.
"By whom?"
"A lender holding secondary debt. Salerno Logistics acquired the obligation through another company."
"How much is due?"
"Six million dollars."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
Tamson felt anger rise.
Two thousand employees depended on Monarch.
Most had nothing to do with Damon, Richard, or Celeste.
"If we release emergency payroll funding, can we protect it?"
Margaret nodded.
"Through a separate account with independent oversight. But we can't release general operating funds."
"Then that's what we'll do."
Margaret studied her.
"You realize Damon may take credit for it."
"Let him. The workers need paychecks, not applause."
They established a restricted payroll facility that afternoon.
No Lennox family member could redirect the funds.
The workers would receive their wages.
The disputed transactions remained frozen.
At three o'clock, Damon appeared in Tamson's office.
She hadn't seen him since the hospital.
His face was drawn.
His expensive suit looked slept in.
For one brief moment, she remembered the man who had driven through snow to bring her soup.
Then she remembered Celeste in his arms.
"Tammy," he said.
She felt the old nickname like a bruise.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"I've been trying to reach you."
"I know."
"Celeste almost died."
"Your mother told me."
"And the baby is still in intensive care."
"I hope he recovers."
Damon looked at her carefully.
"That's all you're going to say?"
"What would you prefer?"
"I don't know. Something."
Tamson folded her hands.
"Congratulations on becoming a father."
He winced.
"Please don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Talk like we're strangers."
She almost smiled.
"We are strangers, Damon. I just didn't know it until Thursday."
He sat without being invited.
"Celeste and I made a mistake."
"A child isn't a mistake."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then say what you mean."
He rubbed his face.
"She came back into my life when things were difficult between us."
Tamson stared.
"Things were difficult because you stopped coming home."
"I felt like I couldn't do anything right."
"Then you could have spoken to me."
"I tried."
"No. You criticized my clothes, questioned my body, and told me my feelings were inconvenient."
Damon looked down.
She continued.
"You let me attend fertility appointments alone while Celeste was already pregnant."
His expression changed.
"Fertility appointments?"
Tamson froze.
He genuinely seemed confused.
"I told you about them."
"I thought you stopped going."
"Because you stopped asking."
Silence filled the office.
Damon leaned forward.
"I never wanted to hurt you."
"But you kept choosing things that would."
His eyes reddened.
"Celeste said she might lose the baby if I left her."
"And you believed staying with her required lying to me?"
"I didn't know how to get out."
Tamson studied him.
There had been a time when she would have comforted him.
She no longer wanted to.
"Did you forge my signature?"
Damon looked startled.
"What?"
"Twenty-four point six million dollars. Eastbridge Holdings."
He went pale.
"Tamson, listen—"
"Did you authorize it?"
"I signed paperwork Richard gave me."
"Using my name?"
"I thought you had already approved it."
"Why?"
"Because Dad said you had."
Tamson looked at him.
"Did you even ask?"
Damon didn't answer.
That silence told her enough.
She stood.
"I need you to leave."
"Tammy—"
"Now."
He rose slowly.
At the door, he stopped.
"There's something else."
She waited.
"Celeste told me her family has a claim against Monarch."
Tamson frowned.
"What claim?"
"I don't understand all of it."
"Try."
Damon swallowed.
"Her mother inherited rights connected to the old waterfront agreement."
Tamson's pulse quickened.
"Her mother?"
Damon nodded.
"Celeste said her mother was adopted. She never knew her birth family."
Tamson stared.
"What's her mother's name?"
"Marianne Whitmore."
Tamson felt the floor shift beneath her.
She had heard that name before.
At a charity luncheon years earlier, Celeste had mentioned Marianne died when she was twelve.
Damon continued.
"Her grandfather left her some old records. She thinks Monarch owes her family money."
"How old was Marianne?"
"She died at thirty-eight, I think."
Tamson calculated quickly.
If Marianne had been thirty-eight when Celeste was twelve, the dates might place her birth around the late 1970s or early 1980s.
Rosemary Bell had been born in 1984.
The timelines didn't align neatly.
But adopted children's records were sometimes altered, especially in older cases.
Tamson didn't tell Damon what she was thinking.
"Who introduced Celeste to Eastbridge?"
His face tightened.
"Her financial adviser."
"Name?"
He hesitated.
"Victor Salerno."
Tamson stepped back.
There it was.
The connection she had been searching for.
Damon reached toward her.
"Tammy, I swear I didn't know what he was doing."
She moved away.
"Then you should be very interested in finding out."
After Damon left, Tamson called Nora.
"I need everything you can legally find about Marianne Whitmore's adoption."
"Why?"
"Because Celeste's financial claims may be connected to Rosemary Bell."
Nora was silent for a moment.
"Tamson, there's something you should see first."
She sent over a scanned historical newspaper clipping.
The article described a 1996 warehouse fire that destroyed records belonging to a private adoption agency.
Three employees had been questioned.
One was Thomas Bell.
Rosemary's father.
Another was Victor Salerno Sr.
And the third name made Tamson's breath catch.
CAROLINE ARDEN.
Beneath the headline was a photograph.
Caroline stood beside Thomas Bell.
Between them was a dark-haired child.
Older than the girl in Samuel's picture.
Holding a purple crayon.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
Rosemary Bell — age twelve.
Rosemary hadn't died in 1989.
May you like
She had been alive seven years later.
And Tamson's mother had known exactly where she was.
