No trace remained of the celebration except a faint sweetness in the air from spilled wine and polished wood.
My mother appeared near the staircase wearing a cream blouse and pearls, composed as ever.
“Daniel,” she said. “You should have called.”
“I’m done calling ahead.”
Her gaze moved to Samuel. “Mr. Reed. I wasn’t aware you were expected.”
“That seems to be a common theme,” he said.
Jennifer came out of the library, her phone in her hand. When she saw Emma, her expression tightened.
Michael followed a moment later, restless and unshaven, as if he hadn’t slept.
I looked at each of them.
“We’re reviewing the household records,” I said.
My mother’s chin lifted. “Of course. We have nothing to hide.”
Emma spoke then.
“Good. Then you won’t mind opening the locked cabinet.”
Margaret’s eyes flashed toward her.
Just a flicker.
But everyone saw it.
