Chương 10
Her attorney issued a statement claiming Victoria had experienced an “acute emotional crisis” after discovering what she believed was an attempt to defraud her family.
Maya read the statement aloud in Anna’s kitchen.
Anna stopped her halfway through.
“Does it say she didn’t hit me?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t care.”
It was not that simple, of course.
Nothing was.
A former Hale Grand hostess posted online that Victoria had thrown a glass at her in 2023.
A florist told a reporter Victoria once slapped his hand away from a centerpiece.
A former assistant said Victoria screamed often but had never struck her.
Then another employee publicly defended Victoria.
Then two more said Anna had always been “oddly interested” in the Hale family.
One of those employees had seen Anna reading Nathan’s lobby plaque.
That became evidence of obsession for forty-eight hours.
Anna stopped reading comments.
Mostly.
Every few nights she failed.
People called her brave.
A liar.
Beautiful.
Plain.
A gold digger.
A victim.
A criminal.
The rightful owner of Hale Hotels.
A homewrecker, though she had not been born when Alexander married Victoria.
Someone mailed a plastic tiara to the Brooklyn hotel after she had already moved home.
Someone else mailed a dead rose.
Detective Lopez told her to save everything threatening.
Priya taped the tiara to the radiator.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess of Steam Heat.”
“Take that down.”
“It brings dignity to the apartment.”
“It melted.”
“Royal families are complicated.”
Anna threw a dish towel at her.
She returned to work six weeks after the assault.
Not at the Hale Grand.
She refused.
The company offered a transfer to another property while keeping her pay and seniority. Maya reviewed the arrangement. Anna accepted because refusing money she had earned was beginning to feel like another way the Hales controlled her.
On her first shift at a smaller hotel near Bryant Park, a guest recognized her.
He stared too long.
Then said, “You’re that girl.”
Anna felt the familiar cold move through her stomach.
Her supervisor, Luis, stepped beside her.
“Sir, is there something you need?”
The man looked embarrassed.
“No.”
“Great.”
He walked away.
Luis adjusted the stack of menus in his hand.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
“I’m working.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Anna exhaled.
“I’m okay enough.”
“Better.”
He handed her a banquet diagram.
“Table seven wants to become table nine because apparently numbers have offended someone.”
Anna took it.
For the next three hours, she dealt with linens, allergies, two missing vegetarian meals, a microphone that failed, and a man who insisted the coat-check ticket system violated his privacy.
It was wonderful.
Nobody cared who her father was.
At eleven-thirty, she sat on a crate in the loading bay eating cold French fries from a paper carton.
Alexander texted.
He had started texting only after Anna told Maya he could.
Are you awake?
She typed: Working.
A minute later:
Sorry. Tomorrow?
She considered ignoring him.
Instead:
What?
He replied:
Claire wants to apologize to you in person. I told her that decision is yours.
Anna stared at the screen.
She had not spoken to Claire since the phone call.
No.
Then, before sending, she deleted it.
Maybe.
She hated herself.
She put the phone away.
The next morning, she agreed.
Claire met Anna in a public garden beside a medical building on the Upper East Side.
She wore a navy coat and carried no purse, only a paper coffee cup.
In person, the resemblance to Nathan’s portrait was unsettling.
Same chin.
Same heavy eyelids.
Claire did not try to hug her.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“I assumed.”
They sat on a bench.
A maintenance worker nearby was blowing leaves into a pile that immediately scattered when the wind changed.
Claire watched him for a moment.
“My brother hated leaf blowers.”
Anna looked at her.
“That’s your opening?”
“No. It was an involuntary thought.”
Despite herself, Anna laughed.
Claire smiled briefly.
Then looked down at her coffee.
“I owe you an apology without asking you to make me feel better afterward.”
Anna waited.
“I knew enough to suspect Nathan had a daughter. I knew Margaret had left under circumstances that made me uncomfortable. I asked him once and let his anger stop me from asking again.”
“Why?”
“Cowardice.”
Anna appreciated the word.
Claire continued.
“I told myself Margaret would contact me if she needed help. I told myself it was private. I told myself Nathan’s marriage was none of my concern. All of those things contained pieces of truth, which made them useful excuses.”
Anna looked at the leaf pile.
“Did you ever see my mother again?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Two thousand three.”
Anna’s chest tightened.
“Where?”
“A pharmacy in Queens.”
“What happened?”
“She saw me first.”
“Did you talk?”
“For maybe a minute.”
“What did she say?”
Claire’s mouth tightened.
“She asked whether Nathan still lived at the same address.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She said, ‘Tell him Anna started kindergarten.’”
Anna stopped breathing for a second.
Claire looked at her.
“I told him.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Good.’”
The word struck harder than Anna expected.
Good.
Not How is she?
Not What school?
Good.
Anna looked away.
Claire said, “I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I will probably keep being sorry.”
“That doesn’t help me.”
“I know.”
Anna turned sharply.
Claire corrected herself.
“Sorry. Habit.”
They sat in silence.
A woman in scrubs crossed the garden eating yogurt.
Somewhere above them, a window opened.
Anna asked, “Was he happy?”
“Who?”
“Nathan.”
Claire considered.
“Sometimes.”
“That’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I wanted you to say no.”
Claire nodded.
May you like
“He loved sailing. He liked terrible Westerns. He could spend forty minutes making a sandwich because he insisted ingredients had an order. He also punished people by withholding affection and money. He could be generous when generosity made him feel strong and cruel when anyone made him feel ashamed.”
Anna looked down at her hands.
