Chapter 2 - THE NAME MARGARET FOUND
"You did what?"
Grant's voice carried through the library doors.
Lena stopped polishing the brass table in the hallway.
Margaret did not lower hers.
"I ran a background check."
"On the woman I'm marrying?"
"On a woman you met eight months ago who started asking questions about your father's private records."
Grant went quiet.
That was what made Lena look up.
Margaret Hale could insult somebody's judgment for ten uninterrupted minutes and Grant would usually wait it out.
But this silence felt different.
Finally, he said, "What exactly are you accusing Savannah of?"
"I'm not accusing her."
"Then why investigate her?"
"Because Pierce isn't merely a surname."
Another silence.
Lena heard Grant move closer.
"What does that mean?"
Margaret answered quietly.
"It means you should ask Savannah who Thomas Pierce was."
Grant came out of the library less than a minute later.
He nearly walked past Lena before noticing her.
For one second, embarrassment crossed his face.
He knew she had heard.
Lena immediately looked back at the brass.
"Morning, Lena."
"Morning, Mr. Hale."
He started away, then stopped.
"Did Savannah ever ask you about my father's things?"
It was the first time in nine years Grant had asked Lena directly what she noticed.
She considered lying.
Instead she said, "A few times."
His jaw tightened.
"What kind of things?"
"Where papers were kept. Whether the study had cameras. Things like that."
Grant stared toward the elevators.
Then he gave a small nod.
"Thank you."
At nine-thirty, Margaret called Lena into the study.
There had been an ink spill beside the desk.
Nothing dramatic.
Just a tipped fountain pen and several blue-black drops staining the leather blotter.
Margaret stood by the window wearing a cream robe.
On the desk sat a pale blue envelope.
Lena noticed it because Margaret almost never left personal papers uncovered.
Across the front, in handwriting Lena recognized as Margaret's, were four words.
THOMAS PIERCE — ROBERT — PRIVATE.
Lena did not stare.
People who cleaned wealthy homes learned how to see things without appearing to look.
She wiped the ink.
Margaret picked up the envelope.
A black-and-white photograph slipped halfway out.
Four younger people stood in front of a construction site.
Lena recognized Margaret immediately.
She was probably forty.
Robert Hale stood beside her.
A younger Daniel Cross, Grant's longtime godfather and the current chief operating officer of Hale Properties, stood at the far end.
And between them was a thin man Lena didn't recognize.
On the photograph's bottom border someone had written:
Harbor House — April 2007.
Margaret pushed the picture back into the envelope.
For just an instant another sheet became visible.
Lena caught only one sentence.
If Thomas is blamed, it will be because I let it happen.
She looked away.
Margaret locked the envelope in the top drawer.
"Lena."
"Yes?"
"You didn't see anything."
Lena met her eyes.
"I saw an envelope, Mrs. Hale."
Margaret's expression changed.
Not anger.
Shame.
"That's more than I wish you had seen."
At eleven-fifteen, Savannah entered the study wearing a silk robe over her wedding dress.
She looked nervous but happy.
Until she saw Margaret closing the desk drawer.
"Where are my earrings?" Savannah asked.
Margaret looked at her.
"On the vanity upstairs."
Savannah's eyes dropped toward the drawer.
The corner of the blue envelope remained trapped beneath it.
Her entire face changed.
"What is that?"
Margaret followed her gaze.
"Nothing that concerns you today."
Savannah stepped forward.
"I saw my father's name."
Lena, standing near the bookshelves with fresh towels, became very still.
Margaret's voice hardened.
"Go finish getting ready."
Savannah didn't move.
"What do you have?"
"Not here."
"What do you have about my father?"
"Savannah."
"He's been dead for eleven years."
"And this is your wedding morning."
"Then answer me."
Margaret glanced at Lena.
"You can go."
Lena went.
But as she closed the study door, she heard Savannah say something that stayed with her for the next six hours.
"You knew who I was before Grant did, didn't you?"
Now, on the rooftop, Grant knelt beside Margaret while police officers pushed guests away from the railing.
Savannah stood ten feet away.
A security guard had asked her not to move.
She looked less like a bride now than someone who had awakened inside a nightmare.
Grant rose.
"What was in the envelope?"
Savannah looked at Margaret.
Margaret said nothing.
Grant repeated, "Mom."
Savannah opened her fist.
The torn blue corner lay against her palm.
"Ask her."
Margaret's eyes flashed.
"This is not the time."
Savannah laughed once.
There was nothing amused in it.
"Of course you'd say that."
Grant stepped between them.
"You nearly killed my mother."
Savannah's face crumpled.
"I didn't mean for her to go over."
"Then why did you touch her?"
Savannah looked toward the railing.
"I lost control."
Margaret inhaled sharply.
Grant stared at his wife.
"You told me she slipped."
"I panicked."
"Did you push her?"
Savannah closed her eyes.
"Yes."
The admission silenced everyone near them.
Lena felt her stomach drop.
A detective approached.
"Mrs. Hale, I'm going to need you to come with me."
Savannah did not argue.
As the officer took her arm, she looked at Grant.
"You deserve the truth."
"Then give it to me."
"Your mother has it."
Margaret stood shakily.
"Enough."
Savannah twisted back.
"Tell him what his father did."
Grant turned toward Margaret.
His expression was no longer angry.
It was frightened.
"What is she talking about?"
Margaret looked at the torn envelope corner.
Then at Lena.
She knew Lena had seen the name.
Perhaps she also understood that silence was no longer possible.
Her shoulders dropped.
"Thomas Pierce was Savannah's father."
Grant waited.
May you like
Margaret swallowed.
"And your father destroyed him."
