Chapter 6 - THE DAUGHTER WHO HELPED SELL HER MOTHER'S HOME
“Why was the money sent to your old office, Courtney?”
She stared at the screen.
Then she looked at Martin.
For the first time, I noticed something troubling.
She wasn't simply frightened of being caught.
She was waiting for him to tell her what to say.
Martin stepped forward.
“The address belonged to our central administrative office. It's common for affiliated service companies to use a shared mailing location.”
“Then show me who approved the company.”
“I can request the registration details.”
“Don't request them. Produce them.”
“Grant, you're behaving irrationally.”
I stood.
“No, Martin. I behaved irrationally five years ago when I destroyed my marriage over photographs and emails I never verified. I'm not making that mistake again.”
Courtney wiped her eyes.
“You think everything is my fault now?”
“I think you've admitted you knew Natalie was pregnant and kept that from me.”
“You told me never to let her contact you!”
“I told you I didn't want to speak to her.”
“What's the difference?”
“The difference is that I had a right to change my mind. And my children had a right to know their father.”
Her face crumpled.
For one moment, I saw the woman who had stood beside me during my worst year.
Then I remembered Natalie outside my hotel, pregnant and turned away.
“Go home, Courtney.”
“Grant—”
“I need you away from these records.”
She looked toward Martin again.
He wouldn't meet her eyes.
That told me more than anything he'd said.
After Courtney left, I instructed our security director to preserve the finance archives and arranged for an independent accounting review.
Martin objected.
I didn't care.
But there was one thing I couldn't ignore.
The hotel's financial obligations were real.
The Holloway Grand had expanded aggressively over the previous three years.
We'd financed two renovations and a new property.
Selling Willow House had apparently been built into a debt-repayment plan.
If I stopped the sale without finding another solution, the lenders could demand changes that would put hundreds of employees at risk.
Martin understood that perfectly.
“Personal guilt doesn't pay bank loans,” he told me.
“Neither does stealing from employees.”
He stiffened.
“Be careful what you're accusing me of.”
“Then give me a reason to trust you.”
I left before he could answer.
It was nearly eight when I drove to Willow House.
The building stood on a quiet street beneath two old maple trees.
Natalie had insisted on planting them at the dedication.
“They'll give people shade long after we're gone,” she'd told me.
I hadn't visited in almost three years.
That embarrassed me more than I could explain.
A woman sat on a bench beside the entrance, holding a folded eviction notice.
She had silver hair and wore a familiar blue housekeeping cardigan.
“Mr. Holloway?”
I stopped.
“Mrs. Price?”
Lillian Price had worked for our hotel for twenty-eight years.
She was seventy-three now, her hands bent slightly with arthritis.
I'd forgotten she lived here.
She rose carefully.
“Didn't expect to see you.”
“I heard about the notices.”
She laughed without humor.
“Word travels fast when people are losing their homes.”
“I'm trying to stop it.”
She looked at me.
“Natalie would have stopped it before the notices went out.”
“I know.”
That surprised her.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I sat beside her.
“Mrs. Price, I need to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know who arranged the sale?”
Her expression changed.
She looked down at the paper.
“My daughter said it was necessary.”
I frowned.
“Your daughter?”
She looked at me with tired eyes.
“Courtney.”
I felt my breath catch.
Of course.
Courtney Price.
Lillian Price.
I'd known both women for years, but somewhere along the way, I'd stopped thinking about the lives they had outside my hotel.
“Courtney told you about the sale?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“What did she say?”
“That Willow House couldn't survive. That residents would be offered money to relocate. That your company was in trouble.”
“Did she tell you Natalie had approved it?”
Lillian nodded.
“She said Natalie took money from the employee fund years ago, and this was the price everyone had to pay.”
I closed my eyes.
Natalie had been blamed again.
Even after five years.
Lillian folded the notice carefully.
“My daughter isn't a monster, Grant. She worked hard her whole life. Her father left us with debts, and she was terrified we'd lose everything.”
“I understand.”
“No,” Lillian said gently. “I don't think you do.”
She opened her handbag and took out an old photograph.
Courtney was about sixteen, standing beside her mother in a cramped apartment.
Their Christmas tree was barely four feet tall.
“She was always ashamed of how little we had,” Lillian whispered. “When she started working for you, she thought she'd finally escaped.”
I stared at the photograph.
Courtney hadn't just wanted my affection.
She'd wanted my world.
The money.
The security.
The certainty that no one could take her home away.
But Willow House was her mother's home.
“Why would she help sell this building?”
Lillian looked away.
“Because she thought Martin would find me somewhere better.”
My stomach tightened.
“Martin promised her that?”
“She said he promised several things.”
“What things?”
Lillian reached for my sleeve.
“Grant, three days ago, Courtney came here carrying a statement she wanted me to sign.”
“What kind of statement?”
“One saying Natalie had taken money from the Fund and I knew about it.”
I went still.
“Did you sign?”
“No.”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“And when I refused, my daughter said something that frightened me.”
“What?”
May you like
Lillian's voice broke.
“She said if I wouldn't help them blame Natalie, Martin would make sure I lost everything.”
