Chapter 3

By noon the fog had burned off.

The terrace was set for the memorial tea.

White cloth.

Cut flowers.

Sixty cups.

The guests had come for a dead woman.

They stayed for a living one.

Margot stood at the head of the table.

She still had one line left in her.

"Elena was going to take everything," she said. "The house. The company. My brother."

Nobody answered her.

Nobody moved.

Nobody even breathed.

Then Roland said her name.

"Margot Halloway."

He said it to the guests.

He said it to the deputy coming up the gravel.

He did not say it like a brother.

The deputy read her the rights.

Her signet ring came off in his hand.

She walked down the path without once looking back.

A second deputy stayed on the gravel.

A woman at the table set down her cup.

It shook all the way to the cloth.

A guest pressed a napkin to her mouth.

Far below the terrace, beyond the hedge, the pool lay flat and green.

Nobody looked at it.

Then Otis crossed the wide flagstones.

He stopped in front of Willa's chair.

He held out the small brass key.

"You don't have to hold it anymore," he said.

Willa looked at the key.

Then at him.

Her first words to him had taken two years to arrive.

"Cold," she said. "The water."

"Warm now," Otis said.

Then Willa Halloway set both feet on the flagstones.

She pushed herself up.

Her legs shook.

Not fast.

Not pretty.

But standing.

The whole terrace went silent.

Her father's hand came out to catch her.

She didn't take it.

She took one step.

Then another.

She walked to the poor boy who had warmed her feet.

For the first time in two years, Willa Halloway did not need anyone to hold her up.