Chapter 2 - Nobody knows who Claire is
Michael asked the obvious question.
“Who?”
Jessica answered immediately.
“No one.”
Roland looked at her.
That was enough to make the room quiet again.
He held the photograph carefully by the edges.
“Claire Hayes.”
Michael wiped his mouth.
“Dad, what are you talking about?”
My father looked at him.
Not Dad.
Michael had called him that only once before.
By accident after too much wine.
That night no one corrected it.
“Who is she?” Michael asked.
Roland looked toward Jessica.
“I knew a girl named Claire Hayes when I was twenty-seven.”
Jessica stood slowly.
Her expression had recovered.
Almost.
“This is ridiculous.”
Roland ignored her.
“She worked summers at Carter Equestrian.”
My family had owned a horse facility outside Lexington for decades before selling most of the land.
My mother loved horses.
I had grown up around them.
I knew the old photographs.
Employees.
Trainers.
Competitions.
I had never heard the name Claire Hayes.
Michael pointed toward the photo.
“Why is she holding me?”
Jessica said:
“She was a cousin.”
Roland turned.
“No.”
The word landed heavily.
Jessica stared at him.
My father continued:
“She wasn’t your cousin.”
Michael’s voice sharpened.
“How would you know?”
“Because I knew her.”
Jessica stepped closer.
“You knew a girl for a summer forty years ago.”
“Three summers.”
Silence.
Then she said:
“She worked at your stable. That does not make you an authority on our family.”
True.
My father did something unusually disciplined.
He stopped.
“You’re right.”
Jessica looked surprised.
He handed the photograph to me.
“Preserve it.”
Then the bracelet.
“Don’t clean either.”
Michael stared.
“Why?”
“Because before we start making claims, we find facts.”
That sentence prevented the evening from becoming even worse.
Then the police arrived.
Not because Jessica called.
One of the guests had.
My father had punched Michael.
Then kicked Jessica.
Two separate incidents.
Two possible assaults.
May you like
Everything else would have to wait.
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