Chapter 7 - THE WORKSHOP WHERE THE CLOCKS HAD STOPPED
Dominic was halfway to the door when Arthur called after him.
“Son, don't go there angry.”
Dominic stopped.
Arthur slowly stood.
“If Katherine is there, she'll have spent twenty years living with things neither of you can change. Don't let Charles steal the first moment you have together.”
Dominic looked at the old man.
“I don't know whether I'll be able to forgive her.”
“You don't have to decide that before you see her.”
Those words stayed with him.
The next morning, Dominic, Marco, Helen, and I traveled to Portland.
Arthur wanted to come, but his doctor had advised him to rest after the previous night's strain.
Dominic promised to tell him everything.
Harbor House Restoration stood on a quiet street near the waterfront.
It wasn't impressive.
The building had faded green shutters, peeling paint, and a wooden sign with a painted clock.
Inside, shelves held broken grandfather clocks, brass lamps, old radios, and furniture waiting for repair.
A woman in her late sixties stood behind a workbench.
She wore a blue sweater and reading glasses.
Her silver hair was tied back.
She looked up when we entered.
“Can I help you?”
Dominic stopped breathing.
I saw it happen.
Something in her face.
The shape of her eyes.
The way she tilted her head.
He knew before she spoke.
“Katherine?”
The woman dropped the screwdriver she was holding.
For several seconds, she didn't move.
Then she whispered, “Dominic?”
He nodded.
Her hands flew to her mouth.
“Oh, my God.”
She stepped forward, then stopped.
As though twenty years of distance had become a wall she didn't know how to cross.
Dominic looked at her.
“You knew I was alive.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
“You knew where I lived.”
“Yes.”
“And you never came.”
Katherine bowed her head.
“I tried.”
Dominic's voice broke.
“Then why wasn't I worth fighting for?”
She looked up sharply.
“You were worth everything.”
“Then explain it.”
Katherine pulled out a chair.
Her knees seemed weak.
She sat down.
“When you were fourteen, I went to the garage to meet your father. I had documents proving Charles Hartwell's companies had concealed contamination on land near the waterfront.”
Dominic remained standing.
“Arthur told me.”
Katherine nodded.
“Charles found out. He threatened your father. He threatened me. But I thought I could still expose him.”
“What happened at the garage?”
“Charles arrived before your father. He wanted the records.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“I refused.”
“Then?”
“He told me your father had brought you there.”
Dominic frowned.
“I was waiting in the car.”
“I know.”
Katherine began crying.
“I heard the alarm. Then I saw smoke.”
She closed her eyes.
“I ran toward the building, but Charles grabbed me. He said if I went inside, he would make sure you never came out.”
Dominic's face tightened.
“Did he start the fire?”
“I didn't see him do it.”
She shook her head.
“But his driver carried a container from the garage before the flames spread. Charles told me the fire was an accident. I knew he was lying.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because he showed me photographs of your school, your bedroom, and your father leaving the hospital.”
Dominic felt sick.
“He said if I disappeared, he'd leave you alone.”
“And you believed him?”
“I believed he was capable of hurting you.”
Dominic turned away.
Katherine continued.
“I went to Maine. I tried contacting your father through people I trusted. Some letters disappeared. Others came back.”
“Did you write to me?”
“Every year.”
Her voice cracked.
“Every birthday. Every Christmas.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Where are the letters?”
Katherine stood and walked toward a cabinet.
She opened the bottom drawer.
Inside were stacks of envelopes tied with blue ribbon.
Some had never been mailed.
Others were returned, unopened.
Dominic stared.
His name appeared on every envelope.
DOMINIC MORETTI.
He picked up one dated fifteen years earlier.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph of a wooden chess set.
Katherine had written:
I REMEMBER YOU ASKING IF A PAWN COULD BECOME A KING. I TOLD YOU IT COULD, BUT ONLY IF IT MADE IT ALL THE WAY HOME.
Dominic pressed the letter against his chest.
He remembered asking her that question.
He'd been six.
Katherine was crying openly now.
“I didn't know whether you'd remember me.”
Dominic swallowed.
“I remembered your chess set.”
She covered her mouth.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Dominic stepped toward her.
He didn't embrace her immediately.
Instead, he held out the letter.
“I wish you'd trusted me enough to tell me sooner.”
Katherine nodded.
“I wish I'd been braver.”
They stood close.
And finally Dominic put his arms around her.
Katherine clung to him.
I turned away, my own eyes burning.
For a few moments, the years between them seemed to disappear.
But the reunion was not the end of their troubles.
Helen had been examining the financial records Katherine kept.
She found copies of payments from Hartwell-controlled accounts.
“Mrs. Vale,” Helen said, “did Charles give you money to remain silent?”
Katherine shook her head.
“He paid the workshop's rent through a charitable intermediary. I tried to refuse, but the landlord said the grant had already been arranged.”
“Did you know the source?”
“Not at first.”
“What happened three months ago?”
“The grant ended. I received a notice that the building would be sold.”
Dominic looked up.
“Sold to whom?”
Katherine handed Helen the notice.
The buyer was a redevelopment subsidiary.
Hartwell Waterfront Holdings.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Charles is trying to take this building.”
Katherine nodded.
“There's more.”
She walked toward the workbench and lifted a wooden clock case.
Inside was a narrow compartment.
She removed a rolled sheet of architectural drawings.
“These are the original waterfront plans. I kept them because the survey markers were changed before the property was sold.”
Dominic examined the drawing.
A public shoreline corridor ran through land now claimed by Charles Hartwell's companies.
Helen leaned closer.
“If this is authentic, it could affect the redevelopment rights.”
Katherine nodded.
“It is. But the original city records vanished years ago.”
Dominic looked at her.
“How can you prove it?”
She pointed toward the drawing's lower corner.
“Your father signed the survey acknowledgment. Charles signed the revised plan.”
Dominic studied the signatures.
Then he noticed something else.
A handwritten note beside a small warehouse.
THE OCTOBER RECORDINGS MUST REMAIN WITH THE ORIGINAL SURVEY.
Dominic frowned.
“Recordings?”
Katherine nodded.
“Your father recorded meetings because he knew Charles was lying.”
“Where are they?”
Katherine looked toward the grandfather clock standing near the window.
“I hid one here twenty years ago.”
She opened the clock's lower panel.
Inside was an empty compartment.
Katherine stared.
“No.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“What?”
She touched the bare wood.
“Someone took it.”
Then Marco called from the doorway.
“Sir, there's something you need to see.”
Outside, parked across the street, was a black sedan.
Its rear window was lowered.
Charles Hartwell sat inside.
He looked directly at Dominic.
May you like
Then he smiled.
And slowly raised the missing cassette in his hand.
