Chapter 4 - The Empty Seat
My mother refused to explain.
That infuriated me more than if she had lied.
“Twenty-two years, Mom?”
“Not here.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because this room is full of people who would sell your blood pressure if they knew someone would buy it.”
I almost laughed.
Then I saw she was serious.
Inside the ballroom, Marcus had gathered several Hale Axis board members around him.
One was Victor Sloane, his chief financial officer.
Victor raised his glass when he saw me.
I had never liked him.
He was competent, quiet, and almost unnaturally forgettable. At dinners he spoke only when necessary. At board functions he remembered everyone’s spouse. Marcus once joked that Victor could walk through a bank vault and leave no footprints.
Until that moment, I had considered it a compliment.
Now I wondered why Victor was at my son’s christening carrying a leather portfolio.
“Claire.”
Marcus intercepted me.
“Where have you been?”
“Talking to my mother.”
His jaw tightened.
“She’s upset Evelyn.”
“My mother?”
“She keeps making things uncomfortable.”
I stared at him.
“Helen has apologized six times today for occupying physical space.”
He rolled his eyes.
“This is what I mean. Everything becomes class warfare with you.”
“No. Class warfare requires two sides fighting. Your mother has been shooting at an unarmed woman all afternoon.”
Marcus leaned closer.
“Don’t embarrass me today.”
There was a time when that sentence would have hurt.
Now it interested me.
Why was he nervous?
I looked beyond him.
Victor’s chair was empty.
So was Daniel Mercer’s place at table nine.
Daniel had confirmed attendance yesterday.
My family attorney did not miss events without calling.
I texted him.
WHERE ARE YOU?
The message remained undelivered.
Then I noticed something else.
The waiter who had given me the warning was standing near a service door.
I moved toward him.
He saw me.
And ran.
I followed.
Through the service corridor. Past a kitchen station. Down a narrow stairwell where the chandeliers disappeared and the hotel became pipes, concrete, laundry carts.
“Wait!”
He shoved through an exit.
By the time I reached the alley, he was gone.
But something lay beside the door.
A black key card.
No hotel logo.
Only an embossed silver star.
Northstar.
I picked it up.
A car horn sounded.
Across the street, a black SUV pulled away from the curb.
For one second, I saw a man sitting in the rear seat.
Gray hair.
Dark suit.
A familiar profile.
My heart seemed to stop.
Impossible.
I had seen that face in photographs all my life.
My father.
Then the SUV turned into traffic.
I stood frozen until my phone rang.
Marcus.
“Get back upstairs,” he snapped. “Your mother is causing a scene.”
I ran.
When I reached the ballroom, Helen was standing beside an empty gold chair.
Evelyn was pointing at her.
Marcus was approaching from behind.
And for the first time, I noticed where his eyes were fixed.
May you like
Not on my mother.
On the loose chair leg beside her foot.
