“How much money was it?” When Tom told her about the sale of their ownership stake in the firm, Diana had been disappointed by the amount he and Jonathan had agreed upon; she’d expected more and told Tom so. He explained that overhead and staff expenses, plus some client collections problems, had been a factor in the final numbers. “This is a fair deal, Diana,” he said as he gave her the papers to sign. She believed him.
The vein along Jonathan’s brow pulses. “He really wanted this to be confidential.”
“So why are you telling me?”
“I didn’t realize Jessica might be involved in whatever that letter is”—he points to the folder she’s continued to twist and reshape—“until last night. Since you asked about her, it’s all I can think about.”
Diana really has to find Jessica. “Why didn’t you mention all of this when I came to your office?”
Jonathan shrugs. “I promised him, Diana.”
“Your promise to a dead man was more important than telling me the truth?”
“That’s not fair. He was my best friend. He asked for my help.”
Anger gathers under Diana’s skin. “I thought we were friends, too. How much did he give her?”
Jonathan hesitates.
“Come on, Jonathan. You came here with the express purpose of sharing this. Don’t chicken out now.”
Jonathan blinks at the harshness of her tone. He sticks his hands into his jacket pockets and clears his throat. “$250,000.”
“$250,000?” Diana repeats. “Why did he give it to her?”
“He didn’t explain. Hewouldn’texplain. One of the last things he did at the firm was to set up a trust with her as the sole beneficiary. He asked me to wire the money into it when the sale was complete.”
“This is ... I have no idea what to say about this.” A thick numbness settles over Diana’s limbs, the weight of this truth overwhelming her body.
The vein along Jonathan’s brow is pulsing even faster, and he presses his fingers against it, as if it’s possible to smooth down the telltale sign he’s upset. “There’s something else I wanted to say. Youaremy friend, Diana. And as your friend, I should have been around more, checking in on you and the kids. Helping out. Lily, too. I got all caught up in my own stuff and kind of disappeared. I let my discomfort over the missing money and the promise I made to Tom impact me more than I realized. I’m sorry. I should have been a better support to you.”
“Yes, you should have.”
Jonathan’s eyes widen. He must have thought she’d tell him everything’s okay, and she’s not disappointed in him, but honesty, Diana has learned, is best shared.
“Would Duncan like to catch a Celtics game with me sometime? Tom would have wanted me to be there for him. You and Phoebe, too.”
“I don’t think so, Jonathan.”
I’d let this all go and move on,he once told her. Jonathan meant those words to dissuade her search into Tom’s past, but they apply better to the friendship they once shared. She might have forgiven him had he not kept so much from her when she first asked for his help; she can’t find it in her to do that now.
He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself, shaking his head. “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t do more, Diana. If you change your mind, my offer will always stand.”
He leaves her house without waiting for her response, walking swiftly to his car. Diana watches him drive up the street, back to a life apart from her own.
Diana sends a second text to Jessica that morning:Hi there, Contacting you again to ask if we can meet. Or talk. I’d be grateful for any amount of time you can give me. Thank you, Diana Morgan.She attaches a snap of the photo Grace sent her; perhaps it will jog Jessica’s memory.
Three weeks go by without a response. During that time, Diana phones Jessica’s parents and leaves two voicemails asking for their help. They don’t call back. Concerned she’s at an impasse, Diana begins to research private investigators. She feels silly looking for a PI—that’s for fictional characters on television or in books, not real people like her—but at this point, Diana can’t say no to any option that will bring her closer to the truth, no matter how far it is outside of her comfort zone.
In the end, though, she doesn’t need to hire an investigator.
When Jessica’s text finally pops up on her screen, Diana is preparing lunch, slicing yellow peppers while watching Phoebe and Mira make slime at her kitchen table. Through the open window, Duncan and Jadyn run drills on the playground court, swerving around one another and jumping up to toss the ball into the basket.
I knew Tom. What do you want?
Right to the point,Diana thinks, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.I can do that, too.
I need you to tell me about the fire.
