Chapter 10 - AUNT DIANE
I went to Diane’s house that night.
She opened the door and immediately tried to close it.
I shoved my foot into the gap.
“We need to talk.”
“It’s late.”
“You helped steal from me.”
Her face collapsed.
Just for a second.
Then the mask returned.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My mother named you co-trustee.”
Silence.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“I have her voice on tape.”
Diane’s hand left the door.
She looked suddenly old.
“Come inside.”
Her living room smelled like cinnamon candles.
Family photographs covered the walls.
There were dozens of my father.
Elaine.
Lucas.
Almost none of me.
Diane poured herself wine.
Didn’t offer me any.
“I loved your mother.”
“Then why did you help them?”
“I didn’t.”
“You were co-trustee.”
“I signed documents Richard brought me.”
“Without reading them?”
“I trusted him.”
“For twenty years?”
She drank.
I stared at her.
“You knew Elaine was his mistress.”
Diane looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did Mom?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
“She asked me not to.”
“Convenient.”
“It destroyed her.”
Something in Diane’s voice made me pause.
“She was planning to leave Richard.”
I sat down.
“What?”
“The week before the accident.”
My pulse thudded.
“She wanted to take you and move to Oregon.”
“Why didn’t she?”
Diane looked at me.
“She died.”
The room went cold.
I forced myself to keep breathing.
“Did you sign trust transfers after she died?”
Diane nodded.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I signed what Richard asked.”
“You helped him take everything.”
“He said it was temporary.”
I laughed.
“They always say that.”
Diane started crying.
I felt almost nothing.
Then she whispered, “Elaine was there.”
“What?”
“The night Margaret died.”
Every sound vanished.
“What do you mean?”
“Richard called me after the police notified him. I went to the house.”
She looked toward the window.
“Elaine was in the kitchen.”
“But Dad told everyone they weren’t together.”
“I know.”
“She was there?”
“Yes.”
“What was she doing?”
“Cleaning.”
My skin prickled.
“Cleaning what?”
Diane closed her eyes.
“Mud.”
I leaned forward.
“From where?”
“Her shoes.”
Rainy night.
Mountain road.
Mom’s accident.
Elaine cleaning mud from her shoes in our kitchen.
“Why didn’t you tell police?”
“I didn’t understand.”
“You understood enough to remember it.”
Diane started sobbing.
“Your father begged me not to say anything. He said Elaine had come to the house after hearing what happened.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
That was the first useful thing she had said.
“Then why?”
“Because Richard told me something.”
“What?”
Diane looked terrified even twenty years later.
“He said Lucas was asleep upstairs.”
I frowned.
“So?”
“Lucas was six months old.”
Everything stopped.
That made no sense.
Dad married Elaine eighteen months after Mom died.
Lucas was supposedly born two years after that.
I stared at Diane.
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“No.”
“Claire…”
“No.”
Diane’s voice broke.
“Lucas wasn’t born after Margaret died.”
My stomach turned.
“He was already alive.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Elaine’s sister was raising him.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Dad’s affair had not just produced betrayal.
It had produced a child.
Lucas.
Diane whispered:
May you like
“Your mother found out about him three days before she died.”
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