Chapter 9: The Ledger

I didn't sleep.

At five in the morning I was in the library with the lawyer's leather folder open on my knees.

I was reading the trust's records line by line.

Rory came in with two mugs, set one down by my elbow, and stopped.

"You found it."

"Quarterly forbearance letters," I said. "Twenty of them. Tallmadge Events, Hudson Savings note, payment deferred with no penalty."

I turned the page toward him.

"Every one is signed by you."

He didn't pretend.

He took off his hat and put it on the arm of the chair.

He sat down on the ottoman across from me with his hands between his knees.

"I signed them," he said.

"You knew."

"I knew about the note."

"You knew the Tallmadges were paying my grandfather with my silence."

"I knew what Mr. Van Dorn told me," Rory said.

"A woman came to his door and said she'd keep his granddaughter away from him unless he took her debt."

"And you signed the letters."

"Every quarter."

"For five years."

"Yes."

"You knew where I lived."

He nodded once.

"You knew my husband's mother was keeping me on a leash, and you knew he'd written me nine times."

"Yes."

"You saw me."

He closed his eyes.

"Twice at the farmers' market in Rhinebeck," he said. "I drove Mr. Van Dorn there. He couldn't walk far."

"We parked across the street, and he watched you carry the bags to the car while she walked in front of you."

I couldn't breathe.

"She never carried one," Rory said.

"He said, 'That girl is working for her board.' I said, 'Let me go and tell her.'"

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