Chapter 10 - The Woman Eleanor Didn't Trust
Evelyn didn't enjoy being right about Corinne.
That was what made the situation so infuriating.
She had disliked the woman almost from the beginning.
Not because Corinne was younger.
Not because she wore expensive dresses or laughed too loudly at Adrian's jokes.
Evelyn had disliked her because of how she treated people who couldn't give her anything.
Waiters.
Drivers.
Housekeepers.
And, increasingly, Lila.
On Thursday morning, Evelyn sat at her kitchen table while Adrian searched through an old storage box.
"You're going to hurt your back," she said.
"I've got it."
"That's what you said before you put yourself in physical therapy for three months."
"I was lifting an engine."
"And now you're lifting guilt. Apparently, it's heavier."
He glanced at her.
"Mom."
She sighed.
"Sorry."
He removed a folder from the box.
It contained photographs, letters, and several notebooks that had belonged to Eleanor.
Evelyn looked at the handwriting.
"Oh, Ellie."
Adrian sat across from her.
"Did Eleanor ever meet Corinne?"
His mother went still.
"Why?"
"Just answer me."
Evelyn folded her hands.
"Once."
Adrian stared at her.
"When?"
"At a fundraiser for the harbor preservation society. About four months before Ellie died."
"Corinne told me she'd never met her."
"Well, she did."
"What happened?"
Evelyn looked toward the window.
"Ellie came home annoyed. There was a young woman at the event representing some consulting firm. Very polished, very interested in introducing investors to waterfront property owners."
"Corinne."
"She wasn't using that surname then. She was introduced as Corinne Rusk."
Adrian leaned forward.
"Did Ellie know her?"
"No. She'd met her that evening. But Corinne was asking questions about West Pier."
"What questions?"
"Whether Ellie planned to sell. Whether Adrian could make decisions without her approval. Whether the land could be redeveloped."
Adrian felt the room narrow around him.
"Why didn't you tell me this when Corinne and I started dating?"
Evelyn's expression hardened.
"I did."
He stared.
"At Thanksgiving. Before you proposed. I told you Ellie had met her at a fundraiser."
"I thought you meant you recognized her face."
"I told you she had been asking about the company."
Adrian looked away.
He remembered the conversation now.
His mother had said Corinne seemed unusually well informed about his business.
He had accused her of searching for reasons to dislike his new girlfriend.
Evelyn watched him remember.
"I'm not going to say I told you so."
"You just did."
"No. Believe me, Adrian. If I wanted to say it properly, you'd know."
Despite himself, he smiled.
Then his expression collapsed.
"I should've listened."
Evelyn reached across the table.
"Yes," she said.
He looked up.
She squeezed his hand.
"And now you need to do better."
That afternoon, Adrian found an email from Eleanor in the company's old archives.
It was addressed to Naomi and copied to a former project consultant.
The subject line read:
WEST PIER — POTENTIAL CONFLICT OF INTEREST
Eleanor had written:
I am uncomfortable with the introductions arranged through Corinne Rusk and Simon Rusk. Their proposed compensation structure appears disproportionate to any services described. Before we proceed, I want independent verification of the environmental findings and full disclosure of all parties receiving compensation.
Adrian read the message several times.
The date was September 12, 2024.
Eleanor had died on November 3 that year after a sudden cerebral aneurysm.
There had been no mysterious accident.
No suspicious hospitalization.
No secret murder.
Just an unbearable medical catastrophe that destroyed Adrian's world in the space of a single afternoon.
For a long time, he'd been grateful that Corinne hadn't known Eleanor.
It made their marriage feel separate from his grief.
Untouched.
New.
Now he realized that wasn't true.
Corinne had known something about Eleanor.
And she'd chosen not to tell him.
He forwarded the email to Naomi.
Then he called his wife.
She answered after four rings.
"Adrian."
"Did you know Eleanor?"
A long silence.
"Who?"
He almost hung up.
"My first wife. Did you know her?"
"I met her once at some charity thing."
"Why did you lie about that?"
"Because I didn't think it mattered."
"She was investigating your brother's consulting business."
Corinne's breathing changed.
"That's ridiculous."
"She wrote about it."
"Ellie wrote about everything."
Adrian went still.
"What did you call her?"
"Your wife. Ellie. Whatever."
He closed his eyes.
He couldn't remember telling Corinne that Eleanor hated being called Ellie by strangers.
Only people close to her used the nickname.
Adrian spoke very quietly.
"How well did you know her?"
Corinne said nothing.
"Corinne?"
Finally, she answered.
"Well enough to know she wasn't the saint you've made her out to be."
Then she ended the call.
May you like
Adrian stared at his phone.
For the first time since Eleanor died, he felt he was standing in the middle of a conversation his wife had started years before he knew it existed.
