Chapter 20 - Connie Chose a Side
Candace brought Lucy to my house before meeting her mother.
She explained that there were family matters to discuss and that Lucy would be happier helping June finish a painting.
For once, the explanation was true and didn't ask a child to carry it.
Lucy went upstairs with a bag of colored pencils.
Candace remained beside the door.
“My mother says I stole private papers.”
“Did you?”
“She gave me permission to take the ones involving me. Now my father says that never happened.”
“Tell your attorney exactly that.”
“I have.”
I waited while she adjusted the strap on her bag.
“He says you're buying my loyalty.”
I looked around the kitchen.
“Have I offered you anything?”
“No.”
“Then that's an easy allegation to answer.”
Her eyes filled unexpectedly.
“When I lived here, I thought being treated decently meant you were easy to manipulate.”
I didn't interrupt.
“I thought everyone who gave something expected to control you later. So I kept trying to get ahead of the price.”
“That explains a belief,” I said. “It doesn't settle what you did with it.”
“I know.”
She left before I could mistake the conversation for reconciliation.
Two hours later, Connie called.
I almost let the phone ring.
“Walter. I need to know something.”
“About Lucy?”
“About Stuart.”
“I can't be your investigator.”
“Did he sell the papers about Ruth?”
“Speak with your attorney. There are records relevant to that question.”
Her breath shook.
“I don't have an attorney.”
“Then get independent advice.”
I heard a door close behind her.
“He says everything in this family belongs to him because he paid for it.”
I sat down.
Apparently, ownership had been doing heavy work in more houses than mine.
“I can't tell you what to do, Connie.”
“I know. I just wanted to hear someone say I could ask somebody else.”
After the call, I stared at the table for a long time.
Nell arrived with bread and her usual refusal to knock when my door stood open.
I told her.
She cut two slices before speaking.
“Don't turn compassion into another unpaid job.”
“I won't.”
“Good. Give her a phone number, not your life.”
Connie contacted a lawyer that week.
What followed didn't happen quickly or neatly. There were questions about ownership of stored documents, access to accounts, and what she could properly disclose.
She obtained advice before providing anything further.
Connie's first appointment didn't give her a new life. It gave her a list of questions she could ask without Stuart answering for her. Candace drove her there, waited outside, and brought her home without asking what she'd decided. For that afternoon, it was enough.
Then Elise received copies of ordinary emails Stuart had forwarded to Connie while asking her to print papers for him.
They were dated before the original Thanksgiving confrontation.
One attachment was the four-page access license.
Another was labeled working option draft.
The signature page appeared in both.
The message above them read: Rusk says the signed page solves the consent problem. Don't circulate until I say.
I read the sentence twice.
The language was Stuart's. The confidence was familiar. He had mistaken private access to another person's records for permission to rewrite their intentions.
Connie also provided a message she had sent in reply.
Is this what Walter agreed to?
No answer followed in that thread.
Elise was careful. We needed the underlying files, corroboration, and proper process. Printed messages were leads and evidence to authenticate, not magic keys.
Still, the shape of the thing was becoming visible.
That evening, Candace returned for Lucy.
She found me washing paint from a cup.
“My mother moved into my apartment.”
“For how long?”
“She doesn't know.”
“Neither do most people at the beginning.”
Candace nodded.
Then she said, “Lucy wants you at her school concert. Both of us.”
I looked up.
“Can we manage that?” she asked.
May you like
“Yes,” I said. “We can.”
She helped dry the cup before leaving. It was a small act, too ordinary to erase anything. I let it remain small. Upstairs, Lucy was showing June a purple tree, and for that evening the adults had finally kept their hardest questions out of her hands.
