Chapter 6: Victor Pryce
"We've met," Gerald said.
"Briefly.
About four years ago.
A family in Dayton."
Pryce's smile stayed exactly where it was.
"I don't recall that."
"I know," Gerald said.
"That family settled.
Quietly.
They were advised it was the sensible thing to do." He looked at me.
"Claire won't be settling."
Pryce turned to me fully.
He had the manner of a man who had learned, somewhere along the way, that confidence looked the same as authority if you held it long enough.
"Mrs.
Hartley," he said.
"I understand this morning has been upsetting.
That's completely understandable.
But I want to be honest with you, because I think you deserve honesty." He set one hand on his briefcase.
"The document in your possession is legitimate.
It was signed willingly.
The transfer of assets it describes was agreed to by your father during a period when he was — and I say this with respect — not always thinking clearly.
Your husband was trying to protect those assets.
Protect them for you."
"By signing them to his family trust," I said.
"As a temporary measure."
"The lake house my father built with his own hands," I said.
"His savings account.
His investment portfolio.
All of it.
Temporary."
"These arrangements are more common than you'd think," Pryce said smoothly.
"Estate planning, asset protection — the language can seem alarming if you're not familiar with it."
"I'm familiar with it," I said.
"My father was a careful man.
He kept records of everything he signed.
Gerald has those records."
Pryce glanced at Gerald.
"Mr.
Holt's involvement in this matter is — irregular, at best."
"He was my father's colleague and friend for eleven years," I said.
"His involvement is exactly what my father intended."
Ethan moved from the doorway into the hallway.
"Claire.
Stop.
Just — stop and think for one minute.
You're about to do something that will cost you everything.
The legal fees alone—"
"Ethan," I said.
"Dennis Farrow called me twenty minutes ago."
Ethan went very still.
"He told me about the calls you just made," I said.
"He told me about Raymond Cassel.
He told me about the fifteen thousand dollars." I looked at Pryce.
"He told me about the three other families."
Pryce's briefcase came off the table.
"This conversation is over."
"You're disbarred," I said.
"Whatever you're holding in that briefcase has no legal weight.
You can't represent anyone.
You can't advise anyone.
You came here to frighten me into silence, and I want you to leave my house."
"Your house," Ethan said.
The words came out sharp, almost a laugh.
"My house," I said.
"My father's name is on the original deed.
Gerald has a copy.
Dennis Farrow has a copy.
And I have the deed itself, photographed and emailed to two separate people this morning before you woke up."
The hallway was very quiet.
Pryce looked at Ethan.
It was a brief look, the kind that passes between people when a plan has just failed and someone needs to decide who takes the blame.
"I'd like to speak with you privately," Pryce said to Ethan.
"There's nothing private left," I said.
"Gerald, can you call the car?"
Gerald already had his phone out.
Pryce picked up his briefcase.
He straightened his jacket.
He looked at me one more time, and this time the smile was completely gone.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," he said.
"I know," I said.
"That's deliberate."
He walked to the front door.
Opened it.
Paused with his hand on the frame.
"Ethan," he said, without turning around.
"Call me when she's calmed down."
He left.
Ethan stood in the hallway alone.
He looked at me and then at Gerald and then at the suitcase in my hand.
"Where are you going?" he said.
His voice had changed.
The control was still there but something underneath it had cracked.
"Somewhere safe," I said.
"Claire—"
"Don't," I said.
"Don't do the voice.
Don't do the face.
I've had seven years of both." I picked up my coat from the hook by the door.
"My attorney will be in touch."
"You don't have an attorney."
"I do now," I said.
"Dennis Farrow gave me a name this morning.
She's already been sent the documents."
I saw it then — the moment it became real to him.
Not when I found the contract.
Not when Gerald arrived.
Now.
The attorney's name.
The documents already sent.
The plan already in motion before he even came back through the door.
His hand came up and pressed flat against the wall.
Gerald opened the front door.
I walked out into the morning air.
The car was at the curb.
I got in.
Gerald got in beside me.
As we pulled away I looked back once.
Ethan was standing in the open doorway.
He didn't move.
He didn't call after me.
Barbara appeared behind him, one hand on his arm.
I faced forward.
"Where are we going?" I said.
"Somewhere your father knew about," Gerald said.
"He arranged it a long time ago.
Just in case."
I looked out the window at the street passing by.
"He thought of everything," I said.
"He tried to," Gerald said.
"He loved you very much."
May you like
I put my hand in my coat pocket and touched the edge of the letter.
The car turned the corner and the house disappeared.
