Chapter 6 - THE NAMES THEY TRIED TO ERASE
“Ruth never agreed to anything.”
Russell's voice shook as he tapped the register.
“She's lived in that cottage for twenty-three years. I know because I carried our furniture through the front door myself.”
Daniel took a photograph of the page.
“Mr. Price, who prepared this list?”
Russell turned it over.
A small printing code appeared along the bottom.
“Bennett Event Services?”
My stomach tightened.
That was Caroline's business.
Two years earlier, my aunt had helped her start a company organizing charity dinners, corporate retreats, and luxury weddings.
Caroline liked to tell everyone she'd built it without assistance.
I'd helped her address envelopes for six weeks without pay.
Daniel stared at the code.
“Why would Caroline's company prepare a resident consultation register?”
“Because Richard made her responsible for contacting the families,” Russell answered.
“Did she ever contact yours?”
“No.”
I looked at the list again.
There were addresses.
Phone numbers.
Dates.
And neatly printed marks indicating conversations that apparently hadn't happened.
Daniel's face became grim.
“Then we need to find out how many other entries are false.”
Russell opened another drawer.
He removed a box containing older employee directories.
“Rose insisted we keep these after the company switched to electronic records.”
I almost smiled.
My mother had never trusted a computer to remember what a person should.
She used to say that a screen could tell you what somebody earned, but only a handwritten note might remind you why they needed an extra week to pay a bill.
We compared the directories with the consultation register.
Within fifteen minutes, we found eleven addresses that no longer existed.
Four households had been marked vacant despite continued occupancy.
And three people listed as personally contacted had died before the stated consultation dates.
Daniel leaned against the cabinet.
“This isn't an administrative mistake.”
“No,” I said. “It's a pattern.”
Russell reached for an old photograph tucked between two binders.
It showed my mother, Aunt Lydia, Evelyn, and several workers standing outside the medical center.
My mother wore a blue cardigan.
She was smiling.
Beside her stood a much younger Richard.
He looked nothing like the desperate man we'd left at the estate.
On the back, Mom had written:
Riverside belongs to the people who built it. Never forget the promise.
I held the photograph carefully.
A strange ache filled my chest.
I'd spent four years trying not to think about everything I'd lost when my mother died.
Now, surrounded by her handwriting, I felt closer to her than I had in months.
Daniel noticed.
“You don't have to do all this tonight.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
He nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Aunt Lydia.
She'd found my number through the house staff directory after Richard took my phone; Daniel had returned it.
I answered.
“Mia?”
Her voice was frightened.
“Richard knows you went to Riverside.”
I looked toward the door.
“How?”
“He asked Grant where Daniel's car was going. Grant wouldn't answer, but Richard checked the estate's departure camera.”
“What does he want?”
“He says you're stealing confidential company property.”
Daniel heard her through the phone.
“Tell him we're reviewing records belonging to the workers' fund. Nothing has been removed.”
Aunt Lydia hesitated.
Then she spoke again.
“Mia, I need to tell you something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“What now?”
“Four years ago, your mother collected written objections from thirty-eight workers and residents. She wanted Richard's redevelopment proposal stopped until everyone understood what was happening.”
“You told us you gave those letters to him.”
“I did.”
“Then what?”
“He said he'd arrange another meeting.”
“But he didn't.”
“No.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“Your mother asked me to show her the objections afterward. I told her they were still being reviewed.”
I looked at Mom's photograph.
“Why did you lie?”
“Because Richard told me that challenging the proposal would bankrupt his business and destroy the estate.”
“You chose the house over the truth.”
“Yes.”
That one word hurt more than another excuse would have.
Aunt Lydia began crying.
“Rose confronted me two days before her stroke. She asked whether I'd protected the letters. I couldn't answer her.”
I swallowed.
“She knew.”
“I think she did.”
The room became very quiet.
Then Lydia said, “I kept copies of some of the returned envelopes. They're in my desk. Richard doesn't know.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“Don't give them to him. We'll come back.”
When the call ended, Russell examined the newest pages of the consultation register.
“This was printed less than two weeks ago.”
He ran his finger beneath the contact dates.
“Whoever prepared it knew they were submitting the list for the current deal.”
Daniel opened another folder.
Inside was a printed redevelopment schedule.
The first page showed apartments, shops, and a landscaped riverwalk.
Beautiful drawings.
Clean sidewalks.
Smiling people drinking coffee.
On the final page was the demolition timetable.
The retirement cottages were scheduled for clearance before construction began.
The medical center was listed for removal.
And beneath the schedule appeared a sentence that made Daniel go still.
Resident relocation notices to be issued upon transaction approval.
He checked the attached mailing plan.
“Tomorrow morning,” he whispered.
I stared at him.
“Tomorrow?”
“The moment the property approval is certified, they intend to send the notices.”
Russell gripped the edge of the cabinet.
“My wife won't survive being moved without proper medical arrangements.”
Daniel looked directly at him.
“Then we're going to stop it.”
He sounded certain.
But when I turned another page, my stomach dropped.
The list had been corrected by hand.
Several returned letters were marked as successfully delivered.
Beside Ruth Price's name was a handwritten note:
Resident contacted. No objection.
I knew that handwriting.
I'd seen it on hundreds of wedding invitations.
The looping capital letters.
The little slash beneath the final word.
It belonged to Caroline.
And at the bottom of the page, she'd written:
ALL REQUIRED HOUSEHOLDS CONTACTED — C.B.
May you like
My cousin hadn't simply been helping her father plan a wedding.
She'd helped build the list that could put elderly people out of their homes.
