Chapter Fifty Stella
Chapter Fifty
Stella
Isabel picked that moment to flounce down the stairs in a long ivory robe. Silk satin with the same color of intricate embroidery
on the ends of the sleeves. Delicate. Dramatic. Expensive. La Perla. Mine. A gift I gave myself after I found out Lukas started
dating another attorney in his office.
It happened more than two years ago. I was struggling to get the last twelve pounds of baby weight off and coming to terms
with my new exhausted, always running behind and feeling like a failure normal. She was blond and stunning. Younger, not long out of law school, with far less baggage than I lugged around on a
daily basis. News of the relationship sliced through me in a near-killing blow.
I loved him. I couldn’t figure out how to stop loving him.
The dating fizzled but my consolation robe remained. Mom had found it. Figured. It matched the expensive perfume she asked
me to buy her every Christmas. She appreciated a splurge more than any person I’d ever met.
“Why are you all here?” She sounded outraged at the interruption to her evening. Never mind her guest status in the house. She was in full how dare they? mode.
Clearly unimpressed, Marni leaned her head against the cushion on the back of her chair. “It’s been a long night.”
I wasn’t in the mood for a round of Isabel Clarke disdain either. “It’s fine, Mom. You can go to bed.”
She frowned and ignored me. Actually walked farther into the room. To the dead center and best vantage point for attention.
“I’m not a child. I’m capable of joining a conversation.”
It was going to be that kind of night. “We’re not—”
“When did you get to Patrick and Victoria’s house?” Hanna jumped right in with the question. No warning, which likely was
the objective.
Mom sneered without actually making eye contact with Hanna. “What are you talking about?”
Hanna, not one to be ignored or to back down—neither of which I knew until we started spending more time together recently—got
up. She sauntered over, nice and slow, until she stood in front of Mom. “That day. When we now know Patrick was killed.”
Mom waved her hand in front of her face while she stepped back. “Stop this. We have no idea when he was killed.”
Marni made a strangled sound. “Actually . . .”
Hanna didn’t give up. “Aubrey told me you were at the house the day of the disappearances. All of us, Cam, Lukas, and you.”
“I most certainly was not.” Mom’s tone carried a haughty note. She’d entered the stage and refused to relinquish the spotlight
to questions she didn’t want to answer.
I should stop this. We were tired and frustrated and desperate to connect dots that jumped around and disappeared at whim. But watching someone take on Mom without an ounce of worry about being socially blackballed or whispered about at charity functions proved oddly enjoyable.
Hanna worked in a quick eye roll before verbally marching forward again. “Were you with Xavier that day?”
Mom’s chin lifted. “This is not an appropriate conversation.”
“Why?” Marni asked.
Mom shifted away. Moved to stand behind Marni’s chair as if the combination of the woman and the furniture would blunt Hanna’s
demands. “There’s a child upstairs.”
“It’s a simple question, Isabel.”
Yeah, from that response Hanna was all out of fucks. She demanded answers from a woman who parried and avoided for a living.
Mom scoffed. “Do you know another type?”
“Mom!” That was too much.
Hanna smiled. “It’s okay. I really don’t care what Isabel thinks of me. Never have.”
The game Mom played as the informal and self-appointed town matriarch had run its course. She wouldn’t have the funds to keep
up the ruse. She’d be fine if she followed a budget like the rest of us, but that was as likely as me ever getting my favorite
robe back.
Isabel lifted her chin high enough to hit the ceiling. “I have never given you permission to call me—”
“Fine.” Hanna’s loud sigh cut through Mom’s indignation. “Ms. Clarke. Ma’am. When did you get to Patrick and Victoria’s house that day?”
“I will not be bullied.” Mom grabbed on to the chair’s fabric as she spoke. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into the padding.
Marni peeked up at Mom. “You’re doing backflips to avoid answering this question.”
“What I’m not doing is engaging in a back-and-forth with a woman who planned and plotted to steal my family’s fortune.” Mom
sounded happy with her response. As if she thought she’d scored points on an imaginary scoreboard.
If she believed she’d cut Hanna with biting words she was dead wrong. Mom made the situation worse with every syllable she
uttered. She could have brushed the question off with a few carefully chosen sentences. She could have faked it. She at least
could have tried to hide her hatred for Hanna. All would have been smarter moves. She stuck with her I’m better than you vibe instead.
“I think we’re done here.” Mom didn’t wait for a response. She breezed out of the room and headed for the stairs.
“I’m sorry.” Apologies weren’t really my thing. I preached about taking responsibility with my patients. I avoided the practice
in my personal life, but Hanna deserved one. Probably far more than one from my family.
“Don’t be. We should go.” Hanna nodded to Marni as she spoke.
The signal worked. Marni and Hanna headed for the door as Mom watched from halfway up the staircase.
Hanna turned around right before she opened the door to leave. “One thing, Ms. Clarke. If I wanted your family’s fortune, I would have married Xavier and taken it decades ago. I didn’t and for that you’re welcome.”
Hanna ended the shots fired moment by shutting the door behind her.
“The woman dares to speak to me like that?” Mom didn’t go up or come down. She stood in the middle of the staircase, glaring
at me. “She should—”
Whatever. “What’s the answer? When did you get to the house that day?”
“After Xavier called me, of course.” All the animation and anger vanished. She looked and sounded calm. Serene. Not ruffled
at all.
“So, you saw Patrick’s body on the floor?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom said in a flat voice. Still no heat. No shock or surprise either.
The mountain of facts I didn’t know threatened to topple over and bury me. “What about Victoria? Was she dead by the time
you got there?”
“You’ve been hanging around that money-stealing little bitch for too long. You’re taking on her lack of manners.”
Nope. No more derailing. “You sound defensive.”
“Excuse me?”
There it was. The flash of heat I expected. The one she inflicted on Hanna, then carefully banked. It sparked to life again.
“Xavier called me. I was there. Where were you?”
“We are finished with this insulting conversation.” Mom started ascending, dragging my robe behind her as if she were an aging
movie star.
I still knew pieces, but they didn’t fit together the way anyone claimed. For once, just for a few seconds, I’d love for the haze to clear. “The timeline doesn’t work.”
Hanna wouldn’t let this go, even if Jeremy came back safely. She’d sit down at some point and set out the sequence of the
day and realize it didn’t line up.
Mom didn’t stop walking. “That woman stole my money.”
“She didn’t.”
Mom slipped into her room without another word. She could run but she was lying. About the timeline. About when she got to
the house that day. About how and why.
I knew because I was lying, too.