Chapter 1 - The Question Nobody Wanted Answered
At 8:17 p.m., Dominic Vale ordered me to speak to his deaf son, then laughed as if he had invented cruelty.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. Ask him if he wants steak, chicken, or crayons.”
The laughter came mostly from Dominic.
One of his bodyguards contributed a nervous chuckle. Everyone else at Bellamy’s Steakhouse suddenly became fascinated by their plates.
I stood beside the table holding an order pad, wearing an apron that had already survived spilled wine and a broken espresso machine. Until that moment, I had considered those the worst parts of my evening.
Across from Dominic sat his twenty-seven-year-old son.
Caleb Vale had dark hair, a charcoal suit, and the stillness of someone who had learned that moving attracted the wrong kind of attention.
He was deaf. Everyone in Chicago who knew his last name seemed to know that.
Far fewer people appeared interested in anything else about him.
My younger brother, Evan, had been deaf since birth. Before a heart condition took him six years earlier, he taught me many things, including how exhausting it was to spend your life surrounded by people who confused hearing with intelligence.
So I set down my order pad and raised my hands.
“Do you actually want dinner,” I signed, “or are you only here because your father needs an audience?”
Caleb turned toward me.
His expression changed so quickly that I almost smiled before he answered.
“Ribeye. Medium rare. Potatoes. Coffee. And, if possible, a quieter father.”
I pressed my lips together.
He smiled anyway.
It was brief, warm, and completely out of place at that table.
Then Dominic leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
Caleb’s smile disappeared.
I looked directly at him and signed, “What would you like me to tell him?”
Something shifted in his face. Surprise, perhaps, that the choice belonged to him.
“Dinner,” he signed. “For now.”
I turned to Dominic.
“He ordered the ribeye, medium rare, potatoes, and coffee.”
Dominic watched me.
“And all the rest?”
“I asked whether he wanted anything else.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re very comfortable with him.”
“I’m comfortable taking dinner orders.”
Behind me, someone dropped a fork.
Dominic glanced toward the sound, giving me a moment to breathe.
“Your name?”
“Hannah Mercer.”
He repeated it slowly, as though filing it somewhere unpleasant.
Caleb reached for his water glass. His hand remained steady, but I noticed the pale pressure of his fingers against the crystal.
I wanted to leave. I also wanted to overturn Dominic’s bourbon into his lap.
Instead, I asked whether he preferred a baked potato or mashed.
“Surprise me,” Dominic said.
I thought of several possibilities.
In the kitchen, my manager, Frank, intercepted me.
“What happened?”
“I took their order.”
“Hannah.”
“He was humiliating his son.”
Frank rubbed his forehead. “That man can close this place with a phone call.”
“Then I hope he enjoys his potato.”
Frank did not laugh.
When I returned with coffee, Caleb was alone. Dominic and two guards had stepped into a private dining room. The third stood near the entrance, looking at his phone.
Caleb checked the room before signing.
“How do you know ASL?”
“My brother.”
“Does he live here?”
“He died six years ago.”
His expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
For some reason, that simple response nearly undid me.
Most people asked how Evan died before they asked what he had been like.
Caleb asked neither. He let the silence belong to me.
Then he signed, “Your brother taught you excellent sarcasm.”
“That part was natural talent.”
He smiled again, but his attention moved to the private dining room door.
I followed his glance.
“Are you all right?”
He considered the question.
Then he took the folded paper coaster from beneath his water glass and turned it over. Four small words were written on the back.
DO NOT CALL SECURITY.
My stomach tightened.
Caleb picked up his phone and typed before turning the screen toward me.
I am not asking you to put yourself in danger. If you want to walk away, do it now.
I looked at the guard.
He was still scrolling.
“What’s happening?” I signed.
Caleb’s hands moved lower, closer to the table.
“My father thinks I don’t understand the business. He thinks I stopped paying attention after the explosion.”
The explosion.
The lake house.
The accident that had killed his mother and damaged his hearing fourteen years earlier.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing, unless you choose otherwise.”
He paused, watching my face.
Then he signed the words that changed my life.
“My mother’s death wasn’t an accident. Someone finally agreed to tell the truth. He is supposed to meet me here tonight.”
Before I could answer, the private dining room door opened.
Dominic stepped out smiling.
Caleb lowered his hands.
His father looked between us.
“Well,” Dominic said, returning to his chair. “What are you two conspiring about?”
I lifted the coffee pot.
“Dessert.”
Dominic studied me for a long moment.
Then he said, “Bring my son something sweet.”
Under the table, Caleb’s phone lit up.
May you like
A message appeared from an unknown number.
YOUR FATHER KNOWS I’M HERE.
