A neat stack of papers sat in front of him at the dining-room table.
Beth’s chair was empty.
He noticed that before he noticed my face.
“Where’s Beth?”
“Safe.”
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
My mother looked between us.
“Laura, what’s happening?”
Mitchell stood.
“Nothing is happening.
Everybody is emotional.
We’re trying to settle Megan’s affairs and Laura has decided to complicate things.”
There it was again.
Manage the situation.
Define the problem before anyone else could.
I remained standing.
“We’re not signing anything tonight.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Neither do you.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’ve been handling this family while you’ve been gone.”
That was the first truly honest thing he had said to me.
Not helping.
Handling.
My father finally looked up.
“Mitchell.
What papers are those?”
“Routine estate documents.”
“Then they’ll still be routine tomorrow,” I said.
Mitchell turned toward me.
“What did David Grant tell you?”
The room went silent.
My mother stared at him.
I hadn’t mentioned David.
Neither had Beth.
At least, she had sworn she hadn’t.
I let the silence sit between us.
Mitchell realized his mistake too late.
“Why would you ask me that?” I said.
His face lost color.
“Megan mentioned him before.”
“When?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Before or after she died?”
“Jesus, Laura.
Listen to yourself.”
He pushed away from the table.
“This is exactly what Megan was doing.
Turning normal things into conspiracies.”
My mother made a small sound.
I thought of Megan’s notes.
Dates.
Times.
Alerts.
