I spoke quietly.
“Do you ever think about Eleanor?”
Raymond froze.
For the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.
“What?”
“Eleanor Mercer.”
His face tightened.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Really?”
I held his gaze.
“Because I have letters suggesting you knew her very well.”
He glanced toward Celia.
“You'd better be careful, Margaret.”
I stood.
“Why?”
He didn't answer.
I took one step closer.
“Are you afraid people will discover that you abandoned a child Thomas spent forty-six years helping to raise?”
Raymond went pale.
Celia quietly closed her notebook.
Raymond stared at me.
Then said something I hadn't expected.
“Eleanor should have kept her mouth shut.”
The room went silent.
I felt sick.
He had said it so casually.
As though Eleanor were still alive.
As though she were merely an inconvenience.
I looked at him.
“Get out.”
Raymond opened his mouth.
“Now.”
He grabbed his briefcase and left.
