Chapter 6: What Uncles Tell Themselves
Raymond was sitting in the upholstered chair by the window with a glass of something amber in his hand and his jacket draped over the arm beside him.
He looked relaxed.
He had the particular ease of a man who believes he is waiting for good news.
He looked up when I came in.
For one second, something moved across his face — surprise, recalibration — and then the familiar smile came back into position.
"Ethan.
They send you to tell me we're running late?"
"We're not running late," I said.
I closed the door behind me.
He read my tone.
The smile changed shape.
"Sit down," he said.
"I'll stand."
He studied me for a moment.
Then he set his glass down on the side table.
"Who talked to you?" he asked.
"Mom."
He was quiet.
"She showed me the photograph," I said.
"The recording.
The transfer documents.
The note you wrote at the bottom of page three."
Raymond looked out the window.
The garden was lit with string lights for the reception.
Tables set with white linen.
Everything arranged for a celebration that was not going to happen.
"She moved faster than I expected," he said.
"She's been planning this for three weeks."
He nodded slowly.
As though receiving confirmation of something he had suspected but not confirmed.
"Raymond.
That building belonged to her.
It was the only asset she had left after Dad died.
You knew that."
"I knew it was underperforming," he said.
"I knew she was sitting on something worth three times what she was making from it and refusing to do anything because your father bought it the year you were born and she thinks keeping it means keeping him."
"That was her choice to make."
"She was being sentimental about money."
"It was her money."
He turned back to face me.
His expression was not guilty.
That was what I had not prepared myself for.
Raymond looked like a man explaining a decision he still believed was correct.
"Your father left me out of everything," he said.
"You know that.
He left the building to Eleanor.
He left the accounts to Eleanor.
After thirty years of working alongside him, building what he built, I got a watch and a letter thanking me for my loyalty." He said the last word like it tasted wrong.
"I only wanted what was fair."
"So you went around me," I said.
"You went around Mom.
You found her future son-in-law's father and you arranged a private transfer that she didn't agree to and didn't know about."
"She would have blocked it."
"Because it was her property."
"Because she's stubborn."
The word landed and I let it sit there.
"Raymond.
What did you think was going to happen?
She finds out after the wedding and just accepts it?"
"I thought by the time she found out, the transfer would be complete, the holding company would have already converted the asset, and there would be nothing left to dispute." He paused.
"I thought she would be angry.
I thought she would make your life difficult for a while.
And then I thought she would do what Eleanor always does — absorb the loss quietly and move on."
"You thought she'd protect me from the embarrassment," I said.
He said nothing.
"You thought she'd find out that her brother-in-law had taken her property and she'd say nothing to me because she wouldn't want to put me in the middle."
Still nothing.
"You used her love for me as a shield."
Raymond picked up his glass again.
"I used what was available," he said.
I had known Raymond my whole life.
He had taught me to drive.
He had come to every school event my father couldn't attend.
He had called me on every birthday since the year I turned eight.
He was the version of my father who was still alive and I had loved him for that.
I stood in that room and I felt that love fold up and put itself away somewhere I couldn't see.
"The transfer this morning," I said.
"The one Mom's attorney referenced.
What was that?"
He looked at his glass.
"She moved it back," he said.
"Somehow.
I don't know how she did it before the holding company could process the secondary transfer.
She must have had her own attorney working in parallel."
"She did."
"She's sharp," he said.
And he almost sounded like he meant it as a compliment.
"She's been protecting what my father left her," I said.
"That's all she's ever done."
"And what about what your father left me?"
"A watch," I said.
"And a letter.
You said so yourself."
Raymond set the glass down again.
"I would like to speak with Eleanor," he said.
"She doesn't want to speak with you."
"Ethan—"
"Mr.
Delaney is going to be filing documents on Monday.
I suggest you have an attorney by then." I moved toward the door.
"Don't come back to the ballroom."
"What about Vanessa?"
I stopped.
"What about the wedding, Ethan?
You're still going to marry her.
Whatever Harold did—"
"Harold's name is on the partnership filing," I said.
"He used his connection to this family to facilitate what you did.
And his daughter arranged the meeting where you recruited him." I looked at Raymond.
"You told Harold that Vanessa plays her part better when she's not acting.
I've been thinking about that since I heard it."
Raymond had the grace, finally, to look something close to ashamed.
"I meant that as a kindness," he said.
"She's a good girl, Ethan.
She genuinely didn't know what we—"
"You made her an instrument," I said.
"Whether she knew it or not."
I opened the door.
"Don't make me call security, Raymond."
I walked back down the corridor without waiting to hear whether he said anything else.
May you like
Behind me, I heard the soft sound of a glass being set down.
Then nothing.
