Gabriel checked his gold wrist watch, his thumb brushing the leather band. “Our savings are being managed quite efficiently, I assure you.”
“Arthur Vance says seventy-two thousand dollars is missing,” I said.
Gabriel let out a short, dry laugh and hung his overcoat on the wooden peg by the door. “Arthur is a small-town lawyer who handles simple wills, Clara. He has no understanding of corporate tax structures or commercial real estate.”
“Where did the money go, Gabriel?” I asked.
“The market is slow, and we are restructuring our debt to prepare for the new fiscal quarter,” Gabriel said. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning my face with a cold, analytical focus. “You should be resting, not worrying about financial matters you are not trained to comprehend.”
“It is my savings too,” I said.
“It is family capital, and I am the one who generated it,” Gabriel said. He picked up his briefcase again. “I have a meeting with Samantha Drake at the county administration building to review our zoning permits.”
“Why is Samantha handling our zoning?” I asked
“She is the managing partner of our development group,” Gabriel said, his voice flat. “She understands the regulatory framework far better than either of us.”
He walked back out to the garage, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
The house felt cold after he left, the old radiators in the hallway clanking as the heat struggled to rise.
At six o’clock, I sat at the kitchen table with the phone in my hand, staring at the faded blue wallpaper. I dialed Eleanor’s number in Minneapolis to check on Violet.
The phone rang four times before Eleanor answered, her voice high and thin, the pitch instantly warning me that she was standing near someone else.
“Hello, Clara,” Eleanor said.
“Eleanor, I wanted to talk to Violet before she went to bed,” I said.
“She is already asleep, Clara,” Eleanor said quickly.
I looked at the microwave clock, which read ten past six. “It is barely past six, Eleanor. She never sleeps this early.”
“She was simply exhausted from the drive,” Eleanor said. I heard a nervous rustle on the other end of the line, the telltale sound of her pulling on her earlobe. “We had a big lunch and then she fell right asleep.”
“Can I just go in and whisper goodnight to her?” I asked. “I know she worries about being in a strange house.”
“I really do not think that is a good idea,” Eleanor said, her voice rising slightly. “If she wakes up now, she will be up all night crying for her bunny.”
“Is she holding Barnaby?” I asked.
“Yes, she has the plush bunny right there with her,” Eleanor said. “I must go, Clara. I have some laundry in the machine.”
The line went dead before I could say goodbye.
I sat with the silent receiver in my hand, the kitchen quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator.
At eight o’clock, I went upstairs to Violet’s bedroom to find her spare drawing books, thinking I would send them to Minneapolis in the morning mail. The room was exactly as she had left it, the small twin bed made with her pink quilt.
I stood there in the quiet room, looking at her small wooden chair pushed under the desk.
I opened the top drawer of her white wooden desk, where she kept her markers and her drawing paper.
Inside the drawer, the yellow pencils and the box of crayons were neatly lined up, but the space in the center was empty.
Violet’s pink tablet, the one she used to play games and watch videos of cartoon animals, was gone.
I reached into the back of the drawer, searching behind the drawing pads, but my fingers only found the black charging cord.
The silver end of the cable lay loose on the dusty wood of the drawer.
Violet never went anywhere without her tablet, but Gabriel had specifically told me she was not allowed to take any electronics to Eleanor’s house. He had said she needed to focus on outdoor activities and reading books while she was away.
I picked up the black cord, my thumb running over the plastic plug.
