Chapter 7 - THE CRIB IN MY LOBBY
By the time we reached my building, the gray crib had become a public spectacle.
Two delivery men stood beside three enormous boxes near the concierge desk.
A rolled nursery rug leaned against one wall.
A white rocking chair sat wrapped in plastic beneath the chandelier.
Cynthia stood in the middle of it all like a general supervising troops.
She wore sunglasses indoors.
That irritated me more than it should have.
Maybe because she looked comfortable.
Maybe because she had spent the morning arranging another woman’s nursery inside the home she planned to take from me, and she still had the confidence to look bored.
The concierge, Mr. Patel, saw me first.
Relief crossed his face.
“Ms. Bennett.”
Cynthia turned.
Her entire expression changed in less than a second.
The annoyance disappeared.
Concern replaced it.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She started toward me with both arms open.
I stepped back.
She stopped.
Maya moved closer to my shoulder.
Daniel stayed on my other side.
Detective Hale had not come with us, but she had arranged for a patrol officer to meet building management if Cynthia refused to leave.
Cynthia noticed Daniel immediately.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Who is this?”
“Daniel Ross.”
He offered no further explanation.
Cynthia looked at me again.
“Elias has been frantic.”
“I spoke to him.”
“You ran away on your wedding night.”
Every delivery worker within ten feet could hear her.
Of course they could.
Cynthia did nothing accidentally.
“I left the hotel,” I said.
“You vanished.”
“I left.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Those are the same thing when your husband is worried sick.”
Mr. Patel cleared his throat.
“Ms. Bennett, the delivery company says installation was authorized.”
“It wasn’t.”
Cynthia turned sharply.
“Ella, don’t be ridiculous.”
I looked at the crib boxes.
“Take them back.”
One delivery man shifted awkwardly.
Cynthia removed her sunglasses.
“Your husband paid for these.”
“Then he can put them in his home.”
“This is his home.”
The sentence landed exactly as it had beneath the bed.
There it was.
Not our home.
His.
Daniel stepped forward.
“The deed is solely in Ms. Bennett’s name.”
Cynthia stared at him.
“Family property is more complicated than a piece of paper.”
Daniel’s expression did not move.
“Property law is often quite interested in pieces of paper.”
Maya coughed into her hand to hide a laugh.
Cynthia ignored her.
She turned back to me and lowered her voice.
“Ella, you are exhausted.”
I almost admired the speed with which she returned to the script.
“You had an episode last night.”
“What episode?”
“You left your husband without telling anyone where you were going.”
“That is not a medical event.”
“You were confused.”
“Was I?”
Her eyes flickered.
For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped.
Then she smiled again.
“This is exactly what I mean.”
She turned toward Mr. Patel.
“Please excuse her.”
“She has been under tremendous stress.”
I stared at her.
She was speaking about me while I stood three feet away.
Worse, she expected everyone else to accept that as normal.
Mr. Patel did not.
“With respect, Mrs. Carter, Ms. Bennett is the unit owner.”
Cynthia stiffened.
“I know who owns the unit.”
“Then the delivery requires her authorization.”
“I am giving it.”
Mr. Patel looked almost apologetic.
“You cannot.”
The delivery men suddenly became very interested in the ceiling.
Cynthia’s cheeks colored.
It was the first time I had ever seen someone tell her no without apologizing afterward.
I wanted to enjoy it.
Instead, I remembered the red folder.
“What did you take from my apartment this morning?”
The question came out before Daniel could stop me.
Cynthia’s eyes sharpened.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You were inside at 7:16.”
Silence.
I watched her calculate.
Then she smiled.
“Of course I was.”
“Why?”
“Elias asked me to check on the apartment.”
“With Brenda?”
That name changed the air.
Cynthia’s face stayed calm, but her fingers tightened around her sunglasses.
“Brenda was helping.”
“With my bedroom?”
“Ella.”
She gave a little laugh.
“You sound jealous.”
There it was.
Exactly as promised beneath the bed.
Make her look jealous.
I felt something almost like satisfaction.
She was following the script so perfectly that she did not realize I already had a copy.
“Take the furniture back,” I said.
Cynthia’s voice hardened.
“No.”
Mr. Patel picked up the desk phone.
“I’ll contact the delivery company.”
Cynthia moved toward him.
“Do not touch that phone.”
He looked at her.
Then he dialed anyway.
The humiliation on her face was immediate.
It also made her dangerous.
She turned toward me.
“You have no idea what you are doing.”
“Probably not.”
I looked directly at her.
“But the crib is leaving.”
For one long second, we stared at each other.
Then the front doors opened.
Brenda walked in.
She carried two shopping bags from a baby boutique.
Her pregnant stomach was more obvious in daylight than it had been on the hotel camera.
She stopped when she saw me.
Her face drained of color.
My father’s watch was on her wrist.
Everything else disappeared.
The crib.
Cynthia.
The concierge.
The hotel.
All I could see was the brown leather strap around Brenda’s wrist.
My father had worn that watch every day for twenty-one years.
He wore it to my high school graduation.
He wore it when he taught me to drive.
He wore it in the last photograph I took of him before the heart attack that killed him.
Brenda had put it on like an accessory.
I walked toward her.
Maya whispered my name.
I did not stop.
“Take that off.”
Brenda looked down at the watch.
Then back at me.
“Oh.”
Her voice was breathy.
“This?”
“Yes.”
“Cynthia said it was Elias’s.”
Cynthia’s head snapped toward her.
Brenda realized the mistake too late.
I held out my hand.
“It belonged to my father.”
Brenda swallowed.
“I didn’t know.”
That was probably true.
It did not matter.
“Take it off.”
Her face tightened.
For one second, I saw the woman who had discussed taking my apartment as casually as choosing paint colors.
Then she smiled.
“Of course.”
She unfastened the strap slowly.
Almost theatrically.
She placed the watch in my palm.
I closed my fingers around it.
Cynthia stepped between us.
“This has gone far enough.”
“No,” I said.
“It really hasn’t.”
Brenda’s eyes moved to my wedding ring.
Something smug returned to her expression.
“You should talk to Elias.”
“I have.”
“He loves you.”
Maya made a choking sound behind me.
I ignored it.
Brenda continued.
“He’s worried you’re having some kind of breakdown.”
“Is that what he told you?”
She realized she had stepped too close to the truth.
Cynthia interrupted.
“We are leaving.”
She grabbed Brenda’s arm.
Brenda pulled away.
“I can walk.”
The tension between them flashed quickly.
Interesting.
For the first time, I wondered how stable their little alliance really was.
Cynthia turned toward the delivery team.
“Leave everything here.”
“No,” Mr. Patel said.
She stared at him.
He remained calm.
“The owner has refused delivery.”
One of the workers nodded.
“We have to return it, ma’am.”
Cynthia’s jaw clenched.
Then the doors opened again.
Elias entered.
He looked as if he had run the last block.
His hair was disordered.
His shirt was wrinkled.
He saw me and stopped.
For one heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then he crossed the lobby quickly.
“Ella.”
He reached for me.
I stepped behind Daniel.
Elias noticed him.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Daniel Ross.”
“My wife doesn’t need a lawyer.”
Daniel’s tone stayed calm.
“Your wife disagrees.”
The word wife sounded different when someone else used it.
Elias stared at me.
“Why are you doing this?”
I almost answered honestly.
Because you married me for my apartment.
Because your mistress is pregnant.
Because your mother planned my breakdown.
Because you put something in my champagne.
Instead, I lowered my eyes.
“I’m confused.”
His expression softened instantly.
It was terrifying how much he liked me confused.
“I know, baby.”
He reached into the leather portfolio under his arm.
“I brought something that will help.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“What is it?”
Elias pulled out a notarized document.
“Ella signed a temporary financial power of attorney two weeks ago.”
My blood went cold.
He held the paper toward me.
“It lets me handle things while she’s unwell.”
Cynthia’s smile returned.
Brenda looked relieved.
Daniel took the document instead of me.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
His expression changed.
Not shock.
Recognition.
He looked at the notary seal.
Then he looked at Elias.
“When did you say Ms. Bennett signed this?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“That’s interesting.”
Elias frowned.
“Why?”
Daniel turned the page so I could see the notary name.
Margaret L. Dunn.
It meant nothing to me.
Daniel took out his phone and searched a public registry.
Then he held the screen toward Elias.
Margaret Dunn’s commission had ended two months earlier.
Not because she retired.
Because she had died.
Daniel’s voice was almost quiet.
May you like
“Your notary was dead before your wife supposedly signed this.”
