“No. It’s just that I—umm—Jane has been good to me, and my family, and I wanted to meet the people who raised her . . . see where she grew up.”
“So she knows you’re here?”
Nora shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Did she tell you where we live?”
“I—I should go.”
“Don’t pay Barbara any attention,” Greg told Nora. “You said you were working for Jane. What does she do?”
“She started her own software company in Sacramento. It’s called IMPACT.”
“Well, good for her,” Barbara said before Nora could tell them more.
“She was always a smart girl,” Greg said.
Barbara grunted. “She probably used all that money she inherited to start that business. Didn’t even think to share with her aunt and uncle even though we took her in and treated her like she was our own after her parents’ deaths.”
“Jane did mention an accident—”
“She never recovered from it,” Barbara said. “She lost everything in an instant.”
“Yes,” Greg agreed. “A daddy and a mommy’s girl. She loved her parents with all her being and refused to accept that they had died in a crash.”
“Nothing we did for her was enough,” Barbara said. “Ungrateful—”
“She was sad,” Greg cut in.
A dog barked outside.
Barbara jumped from her chair, went to the screen door that led to the backyard. “Shut up, you dumb mutt.”
Nora had seen enough. She stood. “I need to go. Thank you for the tea.”
“So soon?” Barbara asked, her voice suddenly lined with a false sweetness.
Nora could see right through the tight smile that didn’t reach the eyes. She was a mean one. Nora knew she should leave, but curiosity stopped her before she reached the door. “Jane mentioned an accident that left her unable to bear children. Do you know anything about that?”
Barbara stiffened.
“She did fall off a ladder,” Greg said, “and she was always knocking into things. Accident-prone, that one.”
Nora felt like she was on a teeter-totter. Clearly, these two people seemed incapable of raising a child, but were they somehow responsible for Jane’s infertility? Another of Jane’s fabrications seemed more likely.
Before Greg could go on, Barbara pointed at the door. “Get out.”
Nora didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed her purse and practically ran out the door.
Back in the car, her heart racing, Nora drove away from the house feeling out of sorts. She couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she’d seen Jane and how her apology had seemed genuine, her neediness and desperation abundantly clear. And it all made Nora feel like a jerk. Jane, she decided, was a bag of contradictions. Not only had she lost her parents, but she’d been abused by her aunt and uncle.
Nora was about to call David to tell him about the graffiti when her console beeped, letting her know she had a text. She hit the button and listened to the robotic voice read a text from Heather Mahoney at IMPACT asking her when she might be coming by to collect a few things left behind in her office: mug, photo, diploma. She glanced at the time. The office would be open for another hour, and there was no reason to put it off, since she wasn’t far from Sacramento.
She found Heather at the front desk, talking to the receptionist before she saw Nora approaching. “Nora! So good to see you.” She came around the desk and gave Nora a hug. “We’ve missed you. How is the move going?”
“Just as you would expect. A house with boxes stacked against every wall.” Nora paused, looked around, then said, “I thought everyone voted to take the week before Christmas off.”
“Change of plans,” Heather said. “I am taking a few days off to go skiing, though.”
“Well, that’s good.” Nora gave Heather a closer look as she recalled what Jane had said about her being pregnant. She pulled her aside, out of earshot of the receptionist, who had just taken a call. “This might sound like a weird question, but I was wondering if Jane ever asked you to go to the trade show in Paris?”
“No. She didn’t. I can’t lie . . . I was disappointed.”
“Interesting.”
“I take it you were told differently?”
Nora nodded. If she had to guess, Jane had made up the part about Heather being pregnant, too. “Is Jane in her office?”
“No,” Heather said. “She’s not here. We haven’t seen much of her since you quit.”
Heather shot a glance over her shoulder at the receptionist; then, her expression grave, she said, “I’m glad you came. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now, but I would appreciate it if you kept what I’m about to say to yourself.”
Nora nodded. “Of course.”
“A few years ago, Jane Bell contacted me out of the blue. I was a business consultant at the time. It was my job to help people like Jane get their businesses up and running. Jane wanted me to work for her full time, and she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. She also made it clear that once the business side of things was in order, she wanted me to find a woman named Nora Williams.”
Williams was Nora’s maiden name. Bewildered, Nora asked, “Did she tell you why?”
“No. She said the two of you had unfinished business and that everything needed to be up and running before she approached you.”
“Unfinished business?”
Heather exhaled softly. “That’s what she said.”
“There must be plenty of qualified salespeople she could have hired for the position.”
Heather shrugged. “She wanted you.”
What unfinished business could Nora have with Jane? Suddenly she felt the need to know for certain whether or not Jane had lied to her about Paris. “Jane told me you couldn’t go to Paris because you were pregnant.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Heather said. “For the record, I’m not pregnant and never have been. When you started working here, I wanted to tell you about Jane, but what would I have said? She’s a chronic liar? Don’t walk, run?” She made a face. “Besides, I’m still here.”
A thought came to Nora. “Do you know if Jane ever planned to go to Paris?”
Heather’s brow furrowed. “Did she tell you she was going with you?”
“Yes.”
“I purchased your ticket—one round-trip ticket to Paris. Not two.” Heather paled. “Jane lacks empathy. She also has antisocial tendencies, and she’s a pathological liar. If you ask me, she’s a borderline sociopath.” Heather shook her head slowly, sadly. “I don’t know why she chose you to go after, but she did.” She looked over at the receptionist, who still had the phone pressed to her ear, and said, “Wait here.” She walked away, grabbed the box from behind the receptionist’s desk, and when she returned, she handed the box to Nora. “Here are your things.”
“Thank you.”
“I could have sent you these things, but I wanted to talk to you in person . . . I wanted to warn you.”