“I’m so happy you finally decided to sell, Helen,” Derek said, also raising his glass. “Now you can enjoy life. Travel, rest. You’ve worked far too much.”
I nodded, though something in his tone bothered me. It was as if he were more relieved than happy for me, as if the sale represented something entirely different to him than it did to me. “I have plans,” I replied simply. “The Robert Foundation is just the beginning.”
I saw a flicker of something—irritation? worry?—cross Rachel’s face. It was so fast I couldn’t be certain. “A foundation?” she asked, her voice suddenly tense.
“Yes. I’m creating a foundation in your father’s name to help orphaned children. A significant part of the sale will go to funding it.”
Derek coughed, nearly choking on his champagne. “How… wonderful,” he managed, but his voice betrayed an emotion closer to shock. “And how much? How much exactly are you planning to donate?”
Before I could answer, my cell phone rang. It was Nora, my lawyer and my closest friend for decades, a woman who knew my family’s history as well as I did. “I have to take this,” I said, getting up. “It’s about the final details of the sale.”
I walked to the restaurant lobby where the signal was better. The conversation with Nora was brief, just a few final details about signing the transfer documents the next morning. When I returned to the table, I noticed something strange. Rachel and Derek were talking in urgent, intense whispers that stopped the second I approached.
“Is everything okay?” I asked as I sat down.
“Of course, Mom,” Rachel smiled, but the smile was a brittle thing that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was just telling Derek how incredibly proud I am of you.”
I nodded, picking up my glass of cranberry juice. I was about to take a sip when I noticed it: a slight, cloudy residue at the bottom of the glass, as if something had been hastily dissolved in the dark red liquid. A cold knot of unease tightened in my stomach. I put the glass back on the table without drinking.
“Who wants dessert?” I asked casually, my mind racing as I changed the subject.
The dinner continued for another half hour. I ordered a new juice, claiming the previous one was too sweet, and I watched them. I watched their reactions with a new, terrifying clarity. There was a palpable tension in their smiles, a poorly disguised anxiety in their gestures.