Chapter 10: The Archive

The judge gave Desmond ten days and left Junie with me until the hearing.

I found my own family lawyer, a gray-haired woman with no connection to Jocelyn.

She said the word emergency was doing a lot of work in his filing.

Then I went back to the firm, and the whispering began.

By Thursday, half the third floor had heard that Mrs. Bancroft was unwell.

Nobody said it to my face. They stopped talking when I walked past.

At four o'clock I went down to the archive in the sub-basement, where my father's old board minutes were kept.

I wanted every vote Desmond had cast on my shares in six years.

The room was long and cold, lined with grey shelving and lit by one buzzing tube.

Patrick was already there, sitting at the oak table with three boxes open in front of him.

"The trust kept copies," he said, without looking up. "I thought you'd want them."

"I do."

I put my folder on the table and could not open it.

My hands were shaking.

"Natalie."

"They think I'm sick. They think I'm going to lose my mind in front of a judge."

I laughed once.

"I know how it looks when they build it. I watched them build it."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. It means I'm tired."

He stood.

He crossed the room and stopped in front of me, close, and did not touch me.

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