Chapter 4 - TWELVE CHAIRS AND ONE ACCUSATION
The guests arrived into a house that no longer felt like a place for dinner.
Damian did not cancel the evening.
Fiona had asked him not to.
So he let every person walk through the front door, hand a coat to the staff, accept a glass of wine, and enter a room where the O'Connor family was quietly coming apart.
Fiona changed clothes but did not dress for Brenda's approval.
Upstairs, she had stood in front of a closet Damian had spent years filling and felt almost nothing for it.
There were gowns she had worn once.
Shoes selected by stylists.
Handbags that arrived with cards from assistants because Damian had been traveling.
For years she had told herself gratitude required enthusiasm.
That evening she stopped pretending objects could answer the question she had been trying to ask her husband.
Did you see what is happening to me?
She chose the cream blouse because she had bought it herself years earlier.
It was comfortable.
It looked like her.
For once, that felt more important than looking like an O'Connor.
She wore black trousers and a plain cream blouse.
No diamonds.
No designer necklace.
No attempt to perform wealth.
When she came downstairs, Helena carried an extra place setting into the dining room.
Brenda saw it.
"What are you doing?"
Helena did not stop.
"Setting a place for Mrs. O'Connor."
"There is no room."
Damian entered behind her.
"Make room."
Helena placed the setting directly to Damian's right.
Brenda's seat had been there.
Helena moved Brenda's card two spaces down.
The symbolism was so obvious that even the guests noticed.
Brenda's face flushed.
Fiona saw it and almost smiled.
Almost.
Dinner began with forced conversation.
A museum trustee talked about an exhibit.
A banker discussed interest rates.
Someone complimented the wine.
Nobody mentioned the tension.
Damian barely touched his food.
He watched Fiona.
She ate slowly.
She thanked the server every time a plate was placed before her.
She asked Helena whether the kitchen staff had eaten.
She listened when others spoke.
Nothing about her behavior justified the contempt he had witnessed.
Halfway through the main course, Brenda could no longer tolerate the silence.
"I think we should clear something up."
Gertrude looked at her sharply.
"Not now."
"Why not?"
Brenda set down her fork.
"Damian has accused us of something outrageous."
Several guests stared at their plates.
Fiona drank water.
Damian said, "This is not the time."
Brenda laughed.
"You made it the time when you accused your own mother of forgery."
A woman across the table inhaled sharply.
Fiona looked at Damian.
"You accused her?"
"I said her laptop was used."
Gertrude's face tightened.
"Which is practically the same thing."
Fiona put down her glass.
"What exactly was forged?"
Damian hesitated.
He had wanted to tell her privately.
Brenda answered for him.
"Apparently someone transferred almost half a million dollars from Damian's company into your little charity."
Fiona went still.
Brenda leaned back.
"Convenient, isn't it?"
Damian's chair moved as he turned.
"Enough."
Brenda ignored him.
"You secretly create a foundation."
"Brenda."
"You secretly buy an apartment building."
"Stop."
"And now company money somehow appears in your account."
Fiona's face lost all expression.
That frightened Damian more than tears would have.
"The money never appeared in my account," Fiona said.
Brenda shrugged.
"Because Damian caught it."
"How do you know he caught it?"
The question was quiet.
Brenda blinked.
Fiona leaned forward slightly.
"Damian told me a transfer was attempted."
Her eyes did not leave Brenda.
"He did not tell me it was stopped before settlement."
Silence fell over the table.
Brenda's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Gertrude spoke too quickly.
"He told me earlier."
Damian looked at his mother.
"No, I didn't."
The silence changed.
One of the guests, a retired judge named Arthur Penn, slowly set down his wineglass.
Brenda's face turned red.
"Fine."
She laughed too loudly.
"Maybe Martin told me."
Damian's voice was flat.
"Martin does not have your number."
Brenda looked trapped.
Fiona sat back.
For the first time that evening, anger showed plainly on her face.
"You knew."
Brenda scoffed.
"Knew what?"
"About the transfer."
"Everyone knows now."
"No."
Fiona shook her head.
"You knew before Damian said anything."
Gertrude pushed back her chair.
"This is becoming vulgar."
Fiona looked at her.
"You mean honest."
Gertrude stared.
Fiona continued.
"Vulgar was telling me not to use the front staircase when your friends were here because my dress looked cheap."
Damian turned toward his mother.
Gertrude's eyes widened.
"I never said that."
"You did."
Fiona's voice remained calm.
"Three weeks after Brenda moved in."
She looked at Brenda.
"Vulgar was moving my place card to the end of my own table."
Brenda said nothing.
"Vulgar was telling Helena not to serve me the same wine because I wouldn't know the difference."
One of the guests looked visibly uncomfortable.
Fiona continued.
"Vulgar was asking the housekeeper to remove my family photographs from the sitting room before your museum friends arrived."
Damian's face hardened.
"You did what?"
Gertrude snapped, "Those photographs did not match the room."
Fiona laughed once.
"There it is."
Damian looked sick.
"Mother."
"Do not use that tone with me."
"You removed photographs of my wife's family from our house because they did not match the room?"
Gertrude lifted her chin.
"They were casual snapshots."
"They were her parents."
"Exactly."
The word escaped before she could stop it.
Fiona stared at her.
Damian did too.
Gertrude realized what she had revealed.
Brenda rushed to rescue her.
"This is not about photographs."
"You're right," Fiona said.
"It's about a forged transfer."
She looked at Damian.
"I want an outside forensic audit."
Brenda laughed.
"Of course you do."
Fiona ignored her.
"Not your internal team."
Damian nodded.
"Done."
"And I want my foundation's records examined too."
"Done."
"Every account."
"Yes."
"Every receipt."
"Yes."
"Every dollar."
Damian held her gaze.
"Every dollar."
Brenda pushed back from the table.
"This is theater."
Arthur Penn finally spoke.
"No, Brenda."
Everyone looked at him.
The retired judge had been invited by Gertrude.
That made his next words worse for her.
"Theater is when people know their lines."
He glanced at Brenda.
"You appear to be improvising."
Brenda's face darkened.
She stood and left the room.
Gertrude followed her.
The remaining guests began making excuses to leave.
Within fifteen minutes, the dinner was over.
Fiona stood beside the table as staff cleared plates.
Damian approached her.
"I'm sorry."
She did not look at him.
"For tonight?"
"For all of it."
"You don't know all of it."
"Then tell me."
Fiona turned.
"Do you remember my birthday dinner in March?"
Damian searched his memory.
"I was in Miami."
"Yes."
"I sent you the necklace."
"You did."
Her eyes shone, but she refused to cry.
"Brenda told the staff not to make the cake Helena planned because it would look childish in front of her guests."
Damian swallowed.
"I didn't know."
"I know."
That was worse.
"Do you remember the foundation luncheon in May?"
"I was in Nashville."
"Gertrude told everyone I was sick."
"Were you?"
"No."
Fiona's voice cracked for the first time.
"She told me my dress made me look like a waitress and asked me not to come downstairs."
Damian closed his eyes.
"Fiona."
"Don't."
She stepped back.
"Do not apologize with my name."
He opened his eyes.
"What do you want me to do?"
Fiona looked at the long dining table.
"I wanted you to notice before I had to give you instructions."
Damian had no answer.
His phone buzzed.
He almost ignored it.
Then he saw Evelyn's name.
Fiona noticed.
"Answer it."
"This matters more."
"If it is about the transfer, answer it."
He did.
Evelyn did not waste time.
"We have the source account on the attempted transfer."
Damian frowned.
"I thought we knew the source."
"The authorization named the community reserve."
"Yes."
"But the bank routing packet was altered."
Damian felt dread gather in his stomach.
"Altered how?"
"The money was never going to Fiona's foundation."
He looked at Fiona.
"Where was it going?"
Evelyn paused.
"A shell company called BGR Holdings."
"Who owns it?"
"We traced the registration through Delaware."
Another pause.
"Brenda Grace Rourke."
Damian closed his eyes.
Brenda's married name.
Fiona saw the answer on his face.
"What?"
Damian lowered the phone.
"The money wasn't going to your foundation."
"Then why use my name?"
He looked toward the doorway where Brenda had disappeared.
May you like
"Because she needed everyone to look at you while she took it."
