Chapter 7: The Man in the Photograph
"Your mother's first husband?""
I repeated Grandma's words because my mind refused to accept them.
My mother had been married before?
I looked down at the photograph again.
The man standing beside her was tall, perhaps in his early thirties, with dark hair and a serious expression. His right hand rested on my mother's shoulder. My grandfather stood beside them, looking considerably less pleased.
The date on the back was March 3.
The day my mother died.
"Who was he?"" I asked.
Grandma carefully returned the photograph to the envelope.
"His name was Thomas Whitmore.""
"Why have I never heard that name?""
"Because your mother didn't want you to.""
"Was he my father?""
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Grandma looked at Richard.
My father was standing near the basement stairs, his face almost gray.
"Richard?""
He swallowed.
"No.""
"Then why does everyone look like I've just uncovered a murder?""
My father pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Thomas was married to your mother before she met me. They divorced when she was very young.""
"Why?""
"Because he disappeared.""
Grandma shook her head.
"That's not the whole story.""
Richard shot her a warning look.
"Mother.""
She ignored him.
"Thomas and your mother started the Blue Lantern together. He was the original financial partner. Your grandfather provided the property, and Thomas provided most of the initial capital.""
I looked at the receipts in the envelope.
"So he owned part of the restaurant?""
"Yes.""
"How much?""
"Forty percent.""
I stared at her.
Forty percent.
That was more than I had inherited.
"Then why wasn't his name on the ownership papers?""
"Because he transferred his interest before leaving.""
"To whom?""
Grandma looked at me.
"Your mother.""
I sat down.
The room suddenly felt too small.
My mother had owned forty percent of the restaurant before she died, in addition to whatever shares she later inherited from my grandfather.
Had she transferred them?
Had she hidden them?
And why had nobody told me?
"Where is Thomas now?""
Richard answered.
"Dead.""
"When?""
"Three years ago.""
I looked at him sharply.
"You knew he was alive?""
He nodded.
"How long?""
"Your mother kept in contact with him. Occasionally.""
I felt sick.
"Even after marrying you?""
"They had remained friends.""
Grandma's expression suggested there was considerably more to that story.
"Richard, tell her about the loan.""
He looked away.
"The first loan was taken out when the restaurant was struggling. Thomas paid it.""
"How much?""
"One hundred and twenty thousand dollars.""
"And the second loan?""
"That was mine.""
"Two hundred and eighty thousand.""
He nodded.
"Thomas discovered what I had done. He contacted your mother before he died.""
I looked at the photograph.
"Was he trying to take the restaurant back?""
"No," Grandma said.
"He was trying to make sure it remained in the family.""
I opened the envelope again.
There were several bank receipts, all bearing Thomas Whitmore's name.
The final receipt showed a transfer made just four days before the photograph was taken.
The amount was $280,000.
Exactly the amount of my father's debt.
I looked up.
"Thomas paid off Dad's loan?""
Grandma nodded.
"Yes.""
"Then why does Dad still owe money?""
Richard stood abruptly.
"Because I borrowed against the restaurant again.""
The words seemed to echo.
I looked at him.
"You borrowed again?""
He rubbed his face.
"I had a plan.""
"How much?""
He didn't answer.
Grandma took a folded sheet from the envelope.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.""
I closed my eyes.
The restaurant had been carrying another debt all this time.
"Where did that money go?""
Richard sat down again.
"Business investments. Renovations. Expansion costs.""
"Which investments?""
He remained silent.
I picked up the bank receipts.
Something was wrong.
The transfers had been made to several different companies. One was registered in Delaware. Another had an address in London.
And the final payment had gone to a company called Whitmore Capital Holdings.
I looked at Grandma.
"Is that Thomas's company?""
She shook her head.
"No. It was established after his death.""
"Who owns it?""
She didn't answer.
I turned to my father.
"Who owns it?""
Richard's eyes moved toward the envelope.
Then he whispered, "Vanessa.""
The room went silent.
My sister had not simply been trying to take over the restaurant.
She had been receiving money from it.
I looked at the receipts again.
There were payments every month.
Twenty thousand.
Thirty thousand.
Sometimes more.
The first transfer had occurred eleven months earlier.
The month Vanessa began telling everyone she was preparing the Blue Lantern for expansion.
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
"Did you know?""
Dad nodded.
"You approved this?""
"I thought she was investing it.""
"Into what?""
"New locations.""
"Where are they?""
He looked at the floor.
There were no new locations.
No new restaurants.
No expansion.
Just missing money.
Grandma reached for the envelope.
"There's another document.""
She pulled out a final sheet, folded into quarters.
It was a letter from Thomas.
The handwriting was neat, almost architectural.
I read the opening paragraph.
Margaret, if this letter reaches you, I have decided to make one final attempt to protect the restaurant.
My fingers tightened.
Richard has made mistakes, but I believe the girls should not suffer for them. I have arranged for the outstanding loan to be settled. The restaurant's future must remain with Nora and Vanessa equally in spirit, even if the legal structure requires additional protection.
I turned the page.
There was a handwritten note at the bottom.
If either daughter discovers that money has been diverted from the business, she must be given access to the original financial records.
I looked at the bank receipts.
"Where are those records?""
Grandma's eyes filled with tears.
"Thomas gave them to your mother.""
"And Mom?""
"She hid them somewhere safe.""
I stared at the photograph.
The date.
The day she died.
"Was Thomas there when she died?""
Grandma nodded.
"Yes.""
I looked at my father.
"Why did you tell me he had disappeared?""
Richard's voice cracked.
"Because I was afraid you'd ask why he was there.""
"Why was he there?""
He covered his face.
"Your mother had discovered the second loan. She wanted to confront me. Thomas came to help her.""
"And then?""
Richard began crying.
"I wasn't there when she died.""
Grandma closed her eyes.
"Richard.""
He looked at me.
"Your mother had a heart attack that night. Thomas called the ambulance. He stayed with her until they arrived.""
My throat tightened.
For years, I had imagined my mother dying surrounded by strangers while my father was somewhere dealing with restaurant business.
Now I learned that another man had been there.
A man who had helped build the place I loved.
A man who had paid my father's debts.
A man whose name had been erased from our family history.
I folded the letter.
"Where can I find Thomas's records?""
Grandma pointed toward the envelope.
"His attorney is still alive.""
"Who?""
She hesitated.
"Daniel Price.""
I recognized the name immediately.
The same attorney Vanessa had emailed about the final transfer.
I stared at Grandma.
"He's working with her?""
"Or she's working with him.""
My phone rang.
An unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke.
"Ms. Mercer? My name is Daniel Price. I believe you have something that belongs to my client.""
I glanced at the photograph.
"Who is your client?""
There was a pause.
May you like
Then he said:
"Your sister.""
