Chapter 11 - THE WOMAN AT THE HOSPITALVanessa’s mother, Celeste Sterling, looked nothing like her daughter.
Vanessa burned bright and loud. Celeste was ice in pearls.
By the time I reached the hospital, security had her seated in a private waiting room with two guards at the door. She wore a camel coat, leather gloves, and the serene expression of a woman who had never once been denied entry into any room.
Dr. Reeves met me in the hallway.
“The girls are safe,” she said before I could ask. “Maria is with them. Security did not let Mrs. Sterling inside.”
“What papers did she have?”
“Copies. Not valid. But convincing enough to scare a junior nurse.”
I looked through the glass wall.
Celeste saw me and smiled.
That smile told me everything.
She had not come expecting to win.
She had come to test the door.
I entered the room alone.
Celeste folded her hands. “Nathan. This is getting ugly.”
“You brought fake custody papers to a pediatric ward.”
“I brought concern.”
“You brought fraud.”
Her smile thinned. “You always were blunt. Claire liked that about you.”
The sound of my wife’s name in her mouth made my skin crawl.
“You knew Claire?”
“Everyone knew Claire.”
“No,” I said. “Not everyone had photographs with her at St. Agnes.”
For the first time, Celeste’s mask slipped.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“So,” she said, “someone is feeding you scraps.”
“Enough scraps to build a case.”
She leaned back.
“You have no idea what Claire was involved in.”
“She was protecting our daughters.”
Celeste laughed softly. “Claire was protecting a fortune she did not earn and a legacy she did not understand.”
I stepped closer.
“Say one more word about her.”
Celeste lifted her chin. “You think this is about Vanessa? Poor vain Vanessa? She was useful, yes, but she was never the center of this.”
“Richard is.”
Her eyes sharpened.
Then she smiled again.
“Richard is a man. Men like him believe they run families because their names appear on buildings. But families are kept alive by women who remember where the bodies are buried.”
The room seemed to still.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Claire should have sold when she had the chance.”
My hands curled.
Celeste stood.
“I will give you one warning because your daughters are innocent. Stop digging through Whitcomb history.”
“No.”
“You say that like a hero. Heroes make excellent corpses.”
I opened the door.
The guards looked in.
Celeste lowered her voice.
“If you expose Richard, he falls. If Richard falls, Vanessa talks. If Vanessa talks, she burns everyone. Including the memory of your precious Claire.”
I stared at her.
“You don’t know anything about Claire.”
Celeste walked past me.
At the door, she paused.
“I know she visited my husband six times while pregnant and never told you.”
Then she left.
I stood there long after she disappeared down the hallway.
When I returned to the girls’ room, Grace was asleep. Sophie watched cartoons with glazed eyes. Lily colored with Maria.
Emma sat by the window, waiting.
“You found something,” she said.
I sat beside her. “Yes.”
“Bad?”
“Complicated.”
She looked at her sisters.
“Mommy always said complicated means grown-ups are scared.”
I almost smiled.
“She was usually right.”
Emma reached into her hospital bag and pulled out a folded drawing.
Four girls under a ceiling full of stars.
One star was colored silver.
My breath caught.
“Emma, why did you draw this?”
“Because Mommy told me if the bad lady ever made Daddy forget, I should remember the silver star.”
I took the drawing carefully.
“When did she tell you that?”
Emma looked back out the window.
May you like
“Before she went to heaven.”
Then she whispered, “Daddy, did Mommy know Vanessa was coming?”
