Chapter 2

The car pulled through the estate gates just after sunset.

The hedges had gone wild. The lawn was knee-high in places.

I hadn't been out here in almost three years — not since Richard died and I moved into the city to help with Leo.

I'd barely gotten my suitcase through the front door when I heard tires on the gravel drive.

The black Cayenne I'd paid for in cash was parked at an angle across my front walk, like they owned the place.

"What do you two want?" I opened the door just a crack.

"Did the NYPD already track down the necklace in my luggage?"

Hailey rolled her eyes and pushed right past me with Leo on her hip.

"God, Eleanor, you hold a grudge. Nobody was actually going to have you arrested. It was a wake-up call. We came all the way out here to bring you home."

"I am home. The apartment doesn't have room for a thief, apparently. So I'll stay here."

Liam stepped into the foyer, rubbing his temples like I was giving him a migraine.

"Mom. Stop. You're in the middle of nowhere. You can't even get DoorDash out here. How are you going to live? And who's going to cook for Hailey and watch Leo while she works?"

"She called my cooking unsanitary. She said my parenting was Stone Age. So she can do it herself."

Hailey had already started walking through the house. Living room. Dining room. Up the main staircase.

Her eyes were moving like a real estate appraiser's, and I didn't like what I was seeing in them.

"Babe," she called down to Liam. "Actually, this could work."

"What could work?"

She came back to the landing, smiling in a way I'd come to recognize.

"The air in the city is terrible. Leo's had that cough for weeks. It's so much healthier out here. Why don't we just move in? All three of us."

"Excuse me?"

"You can take the nanny's suite downstairs. It's right off the kitchen, so you'll be close when Leo needs a bottle at night. Perfect, actually."

The estate had six bedrooms. I'd raised Liam in the main wing.

The nanny's suite was a windowless seventy-square-foot room off the pantry.

"You want me in the staff quarters."

"Obviously the master is ours. Leo needs a nursery. I need a room for my Pilates reformer — my trainer said I have to keep practicing. Liam wants a home office. And we'll need two guest rooms for when my mom and brother visit."

She cocked her head.

"That leaves the nanny's suite. I mean, you're not going to be difficult about this, are you? It's for Leo's health. You always say how much you love your grandson. Surely you can give up a bedroom for him."

I turned to Liam.

"Liam. And you're fine with this?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes. He scratched at the back of his neck.

"Mom, Hailey's thinking about Leo. You don't need a big bedroom all to yourself, that's just wasted space. The nanny's room is fine, you can fix it up."

Something cold ran up through me.

This was my son. The son I'd carried, fed, sent through Choate, put through Wharton.

And he was negotiating me into a broom closet to keep the peace with his wife.

I pointed at the door. "Get out."

Hailey's face snapped. "Excuse me?"

"Out. Both of you. Off my property."

She laughed, sharp and ugly.

She shoved Leo into Liam's arms and dropped onto my living room sofa like she was in a hotel lobby, crossing her legs.

"Your property? Eleanor, honey, you need a reality check. Richard built this house. That means half of it is Liam's. We're not going anywhere."

She leaned forward, her voice dropping.

"In fact, you're going to get the contract out right now and sign it over to Liam. Tonight. I'm not letting some senile old woman leave this estate to a charity someday because she got mad at her family."

My voice came out very quiet. "Hailey. You are in my house."

She stood up, fast, and slapped my hand away from where I'd been pointing.

"You're in my way. And I haven't even gotten started on the necklace yet. You sign that contract over tonight, or I walk into the 1st Precinct tomorrow morning and file charges."

"You want to do your eighties in Bedford Hills? Try me."

Her hand shot out and grabbed something off the console table.

"Pang—"

Porcelain shattered across the hardwood.