Chapter 6 - What Celia Had Heard
Ortiz arrived before Celia finished her tea.
Nobody touched the bear again.
The detective photographed the bag where it sat, collected it, and asked Celia to explain every step from the fireplace to Ruth’s table.
Celia answered without looking at Grace.
Then Ortiz asked about the call.
“Adrian was in the garage,” Celia said.
“I heard him say, ‘She can’t still have the drive.’”
“Who was he speaking to?”
“I didn’t hear a name.”
“Anything else?”
“He said, ‘You told me the office was clean.’”
Grace leaned back.
Nora’s office.
After the funeral, Adrian had emptied it in a single afternoon.
He said staring at her things made it impossible to heal.
Grace had offered to box the room herself.
He refused.
“What kind of drive?” Ortiz asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see one?”
“No.”
Ortiz wrote it down.
No miracle.
No sudden answer.
Just another piece that might fit.
When the detective left, Grace carried the untouched tea to the sink.
Celia stood.
“I should go.”
Ruth blocked the kitchen doorway with the quiet authority of someone who had stopped generations of children from running into traffic.
“Do you have somewhere safe?”
“My sister’s.”
“Call her from here.”
Celia looked at Grace.
“I believed him.”
Grace kept her eyes on the cup.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“He said Nora was unstable. He said you were taking advantage of him.”
“He told me she was careless.”
Celia flinched.
Grace turned.
“Did it ever bother you how quickly he needed her to be the problem?”
Tears slipped down Celia’s face.
“Yes.”
“But you stayed.”
“Yes.”
It was the first answer she had given without an excuse.
That made Grace angrier somehow.
And less angry.
Both feelings hurt.
After Celia’s sister picked her up, Ruth found Grace in the spare bedroom.
Owen was asleep again, exhausted from speaking.
“He asked whether telling the truth makes somebody bad if it hurts their dad,” Ruth said.
“What did you tell him?”
“That grown-ups are responsible for what they do.”
Grace watched the boy’s small chest rise.
“I should’ve told the truth four months ago.”
“Yes,” Ruth said.
Grace looked at her.
Ruth didn’t soften it.
“And you’re going to keep telling it now.”
That evening, Ortiz called.
They had recovered Nora’s old appointment book from a storage box.
One entry was circled three times.
May you like
GRACE — TELL HER EVERYTHING.
The date was the day Nora died.
