Wired (Buchanan-Renard #13)(32)

Allison was smiling when she ended the call, thinking how lucky she was to have Giovanni in her life. She pictured him sitting in his studio surrounded by fabric swatches and sketch pads. On a plaque above his desk was printed his favorite quote by Yves Saint Laurent: “Fashion fades, style is eternal”—words he lived by. Even when he was working, he was dressed to the nines, typically in a vintage pin-striped suit with the collar up and a richly colored scarf draped under the lapel. He was a creative genius, but more important, he was a good and trustworthy man. He was also a kind friend.

She parked in front of her house and went inside. It was empty, but she knew within an hour the Saturday night ritual of her roommates hanging out with their girlfriends would begin, and the house would become loud with laughter and music. She hurried up to her room and closed the door. Sitting in the middle of her bed, she opened the envelope and looked inside. The first paper she pulled out was a piece of stationery with some handwriting on it. Underlined at the top were the words For the attorney. She wondered who had jotted the notes. Her mother or her father, perhaps? Under the heading was the name of a private school. She recognized it because it had the reputation as one of the best in the city. There were also the names Suzanne and Peter Hyatt with an address and a phone number.

She put the paper aside and pulled out legal-size pages that were stapled together. At the top was the name of an insurance company. Glancing over the copy, she realized it was a life insurance policy for her father. She quickly scanned it. By the time she reached the signatures on the last page, her hands were shaking. She was both astonished and outraged. The policy was worth five hundred thousand dollars, and she and Charlotte were the beneficiaries. Her father had left them a large sum of money, and yet they had never seen a dime. Where had the money gone? She didn’t have to think long for the answer. Her aunt and uncle had somehow gotten their hands on it. Everything was making so much sense to Allison now. It was all about the money. That was the only reason her aunt and uncle had taken them in. They had kept the money a secret all these years. Yet how many times had she and her sister heard they were a financial burden? One big lie.

Allison couldn’t help wondering where it went. It certainly wasn’t spent on Charlotte and her. Any new clothes or essentials were purchased at a discount store, and once the girls were teenagers, they were expected to find ways to pay their own expenses. They had gone to a public elementary school, and when Allison expressed a wish to go to St. Dominic’s for high school, her aunt and uncle refused. She wasn’t deterred. She persisted until they gave in, with the stipulation that she would have to pay the tuition on her own. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to earn the money by working jobs on nights and weekends. Giovanni helped out her senior year.

Her aunt and uncle hadn’t lived a lavish lifestyle. They did, however, like to go out on weekends with their friends. Allison supposed the bars and clubs they frequented had taken a great deal of the money. Pampering Will probably took the rest. There was nothing he ever wanted that he didn’t get.

Allison set the documents aside and picked up the piece of stationery again. Suzanne and Peter Hyatt. The names sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place them. She stared at them for several minutes, trying to recall where she’d heard them before, but eventually she gave up. There was an address in Houston and a phone number. She wondered, after all these years, if these were still accurate. One way to find out, she thought. She pulled out her phone and tapped in the numbers. After five rings she was ready to give up, but suddenly a woman’s voice came through.

The woman sounded slightly out of breath, as though she’d rushed to get to the phone. “Hello.”

“Is this Suzanne Hyatt?” Allison asked hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“My name is Allison Trent, and I—” She stopped when she heard a low gasp. “You know my name?” she asked.

“I do,” the woman said.

“How?” she wondered. “How do you know me?”

“Your mother was my dearest friend,” Suzanne answered. “And I knew you when you were just a little girl.”

Still trying to recall, Allison said, “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

“You and Charlotte were so young, and we only saw you a few times because we lived in Houston and you were in Boston.” She paused. “How are you and Charlotte? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of you.”

“We’re fine,” she answered. “I’m calling because I found your name and number on a piece of paper that was with an insurance policy belonging to my father. I was wondering if you knew anything about this.”

Suzanne responded curtly with a hint of bitterness in her voice, “I know exactly why my name was there.”

“I’d really appreciate it if you could tell me more. My aunt and uncle never mentioned you . . . or the policy, for that matter.”

“I’m not surprised,” Suzanne said with disgust. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “It’s been a long time, but I still get upset when I think about your parents and what happened.”

“What did happen?” Allison asked.

Suzanne took a long, deep breath before letting it out. “I met your mom in college, and we became close friends. When we graduated, we both got jobs in Boston and shared an apartment. Actually I was the one who introduced your dad to your mom. He worked in the office next to mine, and a few of us would go out after work. He was a great guy, and I knew he and your mom would hit it off, so I invited her to join us one afternoon. I was right. They were meant for each other.” She paused, and Allison could hear a smile in her voice when she continued. “We had a great time back then. Anyway . . . I eventually met Peter, and we were married. When his company transferred him to Houston, it was really hard for me to leave your mom and dad. They were like family. Your mom and I talked on the phone every other day.” She laughed. “Our husbands weren’t too happy about the phone bills, but they understood. Whenever possible, we would fly up to Boston or they would come to see us in Houston, but once your mom became pregnant with Charlotte and we had our son, Alex, it became more difficult to get together. Then you were born. Your mother was so happy. Our visits didn’t happen as often. Still, we never lost touch.”