Chapter 6
Fiona’s fingers stopped an inch from the tablet.
Lucy held it against her chest. “You’ve seen what I saw.”
For a moment, neither woman moved. Then Fiona’s gaze shifted to Dana, who stood in the kitchen doorway, and her mouth tightened.
“Keep it, then,” she said. “You’ll need something to hold on to.”
She walked out. Lucy waited until the front door clicked shut before letting her shoulders drop.
Dana locked the tablet in the desk drawer. Lucy kept the receipt.
The next morning, she left Chloe at home with Dana and drove to Fiona’s salon. Chloe had slept badly but was fever-free; she’d watched Lucy put on her coat without asking where she was going. That silence had followed Lucy down the front steps.
The salon’s bell chimed above the door. Warm air carried the sharp smell of acetone and sweet, powdery polish. A woman in a silver cape sat with one hand extended while an employee filed her nails. Behind the front desk, Nina Alvarez glanced up.
Her eyes landed on Lucy’s face, then dropped to the folded receipt in Lucy’s hand.
“You recognize this,” Lucy said.
Nina’s file slipped against the metal tray. Her fingers jerked, and she caught it before it fell.
“I’m with a client,” she said.
“I can wait.”
The client turned her head, curiosity overtaking the careful stillness of her manicure. Nina gave her a small, professional smile and murmured something Lucy couldn’t hear. Then she led Lucy toward the narrow corridor beside the supply shelves.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Nina whispered.
“Then tell me why my address and bank were written on a salon receipt.”
Nina looked toward the front window. Fiona wasn’t there. Still, she kept her voice low.
“I wrote it.”
The admission landed harder than Lucy expected. She looked down at the receipt, at the cramped letters on its reverse, and felt the past few days rearrange themselves around a stranger’s small, frightened act.
“Why?”
“I saw the loan papers on Fiona’s desk.” Nina’s hands twisted together. “Your name was on them. Your address. The bank. I knew you hadn’t approved anything.”
“You saw my name on a loan application?”
“I saw enough to know you weren’t there when it was put together.” Nina swallowed. “Fiona left it out while she took a call. I didn’t read every page.”
Lucy didn’t ask her to. She didn’t need the full packet repeated to know what the paper had cost her.
“Why write June 4?”
“Fiona said you wouldn’t be back until then. She said it more than once.” Nina glanced down the corridor. “When I realized the date mattered, I wrote it down. I thought if you came in, I could warn you. Then I got scared.”
“But you did warn me.”
Nina’s face crumpled for an instant before she steadied it. “Your daughter’s coat was by the side entry. Fiona had me carry towels through there. I put the receipt in the pocket. I thought you’d find it when you got home.”
Lucy pictured Chloe’s small coat hanging by the door, the note tucked where little fingers might find it. A warning had traveled through their house while Lucy was still miles away, and the people closest to her had made sure she never heard it.
“You could have told me directly.”
“I know.” Nina’s eyes shone. “I kept thinking I’d do it the next day. Then Fiona said the loan was almost done, and I thought—if I spoke up, she’d know it was me. I need this job.”
Lucy heard the fear beneath the excuse. It didn’t make the silence harmless. But it made Nina’s trembling hands feel less like betrayal than a person trapped inside somebody else’s bad choices.
“Do you still have anything that shows what you saw?”
Nina’s lips parted. Before she could answer, heels struck the floor beyond the corridor.
“What is she doing back here?”
Fiona swept around the shelves, her expression already set for a fight. She looked from Lucy to Nina, then to the receipt in Lucy’s hand.
“Get out,” Fiona told Nina. “You’re finished.”
Nina went pale. “Fiona—”
“Now.”
Lucy stepped between them. “She works here. You don’t get to punish her for speaking to me.”
“Don’t pretend you’re protecting her.” Fiona’s voice stayed level, but her eyes had gone bright and hard. “You’re recruiting my staff now?”
“I asked her a question.”
“And she answered you.” Fiona turned to Nina. “Get your purse. You’re done.”
Nina looked at Lucy, fear pinning her in place.
“Go,” Lucy said quietly. “You don’t have to stay in this room.”
Fiona’s nostrils flared. “You’re making a scene in my business.”
“You brought one.”
For a beat, the salon seemed to hold its breath. The nail file stopped moving at the front station. Someone’s chair creaked. Fiona stepped closer, close enough that Lucy could smell the floral scent of her hand cream.
“Leave Nina out of this,” Fiona said. “Stop dragging people into your marriage.”
“You put my name on a loan packet.”
“I put nothing on anything.”
“Then you won’t mind explaining why Nina saw it on your desk.”
Fiona’s smile appeared without warmth. “You’ve always been good at turning scraps into a story.”
Lucy felt the receipt’s edge press into her palm. She thought of the numbers on the household statements, the false signature, the date chosen for a closing she hadn’t agreed to. And she thought of Chloe following every adult who came into the hospital room, trying to work out who was safe.
“Don’t use Chloe to frighten me,” Lucy said.
Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one bringing this into her life.”
“No. I’m the one stopping it from being hidden.”
May you like
Fiona leaned in, her voice dropping so Nina and the waiting customers would have to strain to hear.
“You have until tomorrow morning to withdraw your complaint,” she said. “Or Chloe will learn exactly what kind of mother you are.”
