Chapter 6 - Christmas Eve at Patricia's MansionOn December twenty-third, Patricia Beaumont called me.
I had been expecting her.
What surprised me was how cheerful she sounded.
"Margaret, darling! How are you?"
I stood beside the kitchen counter, watching snow settle on the bird feeder.
"I'm well, Patricia. And you?"
"Oh, absolutely exhausted. The holidays are always so demanding."
I didn't answer.
She continued.
"Listen, I think there's been a terrible misunderstanding about Aspen."
"Has there?"
"Vanessa tells me you canceled the family's vacation because you felt excluded."
"That isn't why I canceled it."
"Well, whatever happened, I'm sure we can resolve it like civilized women."
I almost admired her confidence.
"Patricia, I've been speaking with my attorney."
Silence.
Only for a second.
But I noticed.
"Oh?" she said.
"Yes."
"About a vacation?"
"About several matters."
Her voice grew cooler.
"Margaret, I'm not sure what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything. I'm explaining that all questions concerning my property and financial records should go through Robert Ellis."
She gave a short laugh.
"Good heavens. You make this sound like some corporate dispute."
"Perhaps that's because it involves a corporation."
There was another silence.
Then Patricia said, "I think you should come to Christmas Eve dinner."
I looked toward the window.
"Why?"
"Because families should communicate."
The woman who'd spent eight years treating me like an inconvenience suddenly wanted to communicate.
How touching.
"Who will be there?"
"Oh, just family. Daniel, Vanessa, Sophie, a few friends."
"Which friends?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
She sighed.
"Some business acquaintances. Honestly, Margaret, must everything become an interrogation?"
I understood immediately.
She wanted an audience.
Perhaps she hoped to pressure me into restoring the vacation.
Perhaps she wanted to make me appear unreasonable in front of her investors.
Or perhaps she believed she could charm me into signing something.
Whatever her plan, I had no intention of arriving unprepared.
"I'll consider it," I said.
That afternoon, I called Robert and told him about the invitation.
He listened carefully.
Then he surprised me.
"It might be useful to attend, provided you understand the risks."
I frowned.
"You want me to go?"
"I'm not advising you to confront anyone. Quite the opposite. Don't discuss specific legal issues, don't sign anything, and leave if anyone pressures you. But you may want to see what they're telling people."
"Should I record conversations?"
"Recording laws vary. Don't secretly record anyone. If you want a record of what happens, take notes afterward."
I agreed.
Then I called Daniel.
"Your mother-in-law invited me to Christmas Eve dinner."
He groaned.
"Mom, you don't have to go."
"I know."
"Vanessa and I barely spoke last night."
"Are you still living together?"
"For now."
I heard exhaustion in his voice.
"Daniel, how is Sophie?"
"Confused. She knows something's wrong."
My heart tightened.
"Bring her here tomorrow afternoon. We'll make cookies."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he whispered, "Thanks, Mom."
It was the first sincere thank-you I'd heard from him in months.
Christmas Eve arrived under a sky filled with heavy gray clouds.
I wore a dark green dress Thomas had always liked, simple pearl earrings, and my wedding ring.
Before leaving, I placed the original bank documents in my locked desk drawer.
I carried only copies of the public corporate records and a small notebook.
Patricia lived in a gated community outside Burlington.
Her enormous stone house was decorated with thousands of white lights.
Two luxury SUVs stood in the driveway.
Inside, a woman in a black dress took my coat.
Patricia appeared at the top of the marble staircase wearing a glittering gold gown.
"Margaret!"
She descended toward me with outstretched arms.
I allowed a brief hug.
"How lovely that you came."
"Thank you for inviting me."
Her eyes moved over my dress.
"Very classic."
"Yes, it is."
She smiled tightly.
Behind her, I noticed several unfamiliar couples standing near the fireplace.
Their conversations stopped when Patricia raised her glass.
"Everyone, this is Margaret Whitmore!"
Several people smiled politely.
Then Patricia said something that made me understand exactly why she'd invited me.
"Margaret is practically family to our Alpine investment group. Her late husband was one of the finest property developers in Vermont."
I felt my stomach tighten.
A silver-haired man stepped forward.
"Mrs. Whitmore? I'm Richard Collins. Your husband's portfolio was remarkable."
I took his extended hand.
"Thank you."
"I understand you're considering joining the company's next investment phase."
I looked at Patricia.
She smiled.
"Richard, darling, we're discussing that privately."
I returned my attention to him.
"I'm afraid you've been misinformed. I'm not involved in Beaumont Alpine Holdings."
His smile faded.
"Oh."
"And neither was my husband."
The room grew quieter.
Patricia moved quickly.
"Margaret is being modest. Thomas's legacy has been such an inspiration."
"Inspiration is one thing," I said. "Using someone's photograph and business history to promote an investment is another."
Richard lowered his glass.
Patricia laughed too loudly.
"Shall we all have dinner?"
I didn't move.
"Richard, may I ask something?"
"Of course."
"Have you invested money in this company?"
Patricia interrupted.
"Margaret, this isn't appropriate."
Richard frowned.
"Actually, I don't mind answering. My wife and I invested a substantial amount in September."
I felt a painful tightening in my chest.
"Did you receive documentation concerning the company's leadership and financial history?"
"Naturally."
"Then I suggest having an independent attorney review those materials."
Patricia's expression turned dangerous.
"That's enough."
I looked at her calmly.
"I'm not making accusations. I'm correcting a false impression about my husband's involvement."
Richard glanced between us.
I could see him beginning to understand that something was wrong.
Patricia took my arm.
Hard.
"Margaret, a word."
I gently removed her hand.
"Of course."
She led me into a small sitting room and closed the door.
The moment we were alone, her smile vanished.
"You have no idea what you're interfering with."
I studied her.
"Then explain it."
"This company represents years of work."
"Then why are you using Thomas's photograph without my permission?"
"Your husband is dead, Margaret."
The words struck like a slap.
She continued before I could respond.
"His reputation isn't doing him any good in the ground."
I stared at her.
For a moment, I could hardly breathe.
Then something inside me became very still.
"Don't speak about my husband that way."
Patricia rolled her eyes.
"Oh, spare me the sentimental performance."
I moved toward the door.
She stepped in front of me.
"If you undermine this company, Daniel could lose everything."
I stopped.
"Is that a warning?"
"It's a fact."
"Then perhaps you should tell your investors the truth before their losses become worse."
Patricia's eyes narrowed.
"You think you're so clever."
"No," I said. "I think I've been too trusting."
She leaned closer.
"Let me tell you something, Margaret. That beautiful lake house of yours is just sitting there, full of equity. You could solve everyone's problems with one signature."
I felt cold.
There it was.
The real reason for the invitation.
I opened the sitting-room door.
"Good night, Patricia."
She seized my wrist.
"You're not leaving until we settle this."
Before I could answer, another voice came from the hallway.
"Take your hand off her."
Daniel stood beneath the chandelier.
And behind him was Sophie.
My granddaughter had heard enough to know that her grandmothers were fighting.
Her little face crumpled.
"Grandma Margaret," she whispered, "why is Grandma Patricia hurting you?"
Daniel stepped forward and gently separated us.
Then he looked at his mother-in-law.
"Don't ever touch my mother again."
Patricia recoiled.
"Daniel, you're embarrassing yourself."
"No," he said. "I'm finally seeing what's been happening."
He turned toward me.
"Mom, we're leaving."
I nodded.
As we walked toward the front door, Richard Collins approached with his wife.
"Mrs. Whitmore," he said quietly, "could I have the name of your attorney?"
I wrote Robert's number on a card.
Richard thanked me.
Then he lowered his voice.
"I think you may have just saved us from making another very expensive mistake."
I didn't feel victorious.
I felt sick.
Because across the room, Vanessa stood beside her mother.
She hadn't followed Daniel.
And when Sophie reached for her, Vanessa looked away.
Outside, my son helped his daughter into her coat.
He turned back toward the mansion once.
"Mom," he said, "I think my marriage is falling apart."
I touched his shoulder.
"Then we'll deal with what's true, one thing at a time."
He nodded.
But as we stepped into the freezing night, my phone buzzed.
May you like
It was a message from an unknown number.
"Mrs. Whitmore, my name is Eleanor Price. I used to work for Patricia Beaumont. You need to know what she's hiding. Your family's money is only the beginning."
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