The Nest(83)

For a long time she’d kept the napkin in her purse. Then in a kitchen drawer. Then it got put away in a box somewhere and when she’d sealed that box with packaging tape she thought she was through.

Stephanie was thinking about the bird as she disembarked the subway and walked home after the birthday dinner that wasn’t. For years whenever she’d had a pang about Leo she would imagine the napkin and the little red bird packed away in a box deep in her basement. As she strolled down her street among the stately homes and warmly lighted front windows, she thought of the napkin and the meaning she’d always attached to the image: Leo flying away from her, heading straight out to the ocean, unburdened and free. She thought about how grateful she was for her life, her house—emptier now, but not for long. She thought about the small back room that she’d turn into a nursery and how it would be summer when the baby was born and her garden would be in bloom. She’d have to replace the tree that had fallen during the storm so the baby could look out and watch the seasons pass. She thought about the napkin again and realized she’d been telling herself the wrong story all these years. Leo wasn’t the red bird, she was—ecstatically darting over the church spires of Brooklyn, heading home, expectant but unburdened. Free. Her incentives had finally changed.





PART THREE


FINDING LEO





CHAPTER THIRTY–SIX


This time there was no tea or coffee or little butter cookies or imperious Francie (who, upon hearing that Leo had gone missing, sighed and said, “Oh, he’ll get sick of roaming and wander back. He’s a Long Islander at heart.” As if she were talking about one of her border collies). This time, it was just the three Plumb siblings and George, who wasn’t even sitting down, that’s how eager he was for the meeting to be over.

“Even if I knew something,” George was saying, hurrying to add, “and I don’t. I don’t know anything. But even if I did, Leo is my client and I probably couldn’t tell you.”

“But you don’t?” Melody said, surprising herself by hitting what sounded to her like the perfect caustic, disbelieving note. It was so perfect, she tried again. “You don’t,” she said, drawing out the syllables a bit too much this time. Still. Not bad.

“I don’t. I swear to you, I don’t. But again, Leo is my client—”

“We all understand attorney-client privilege, George,” Jack said. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“Well, then—respectfully—why are you here?”

“We’re here because your cousin—our brother—has essentially fallen off the face of the earth,” Bea said. “He’s vanished and it’s worrisome, to say the least. We want to try to figure out where he is and if he’s okay. What if he needs help?”

George pulled out a chair and sat. “Look,” he said. “I don’t think Leo needs help.”

“You do know where he is,” Jack said.

“I don’t. I have my suspicions. I could make an educated guess. But I don’t know anything for sure.”

“Then how do you know he doesn’t need help?” Melody asked.

George rubbed both sides of his face with his hands vigorously, inhaled deeply, and exhaled. “At one time, Leo had money that Victoria didn’t know about. An account in Grand Cayman. To be clear, I don’t know this as his attorney. He mentioned it years ago when he first opened it and, you know, I thought it was not a bad idea, given how things started to go with Victoria, to keep some money separate.”

“And you hid it during the divorce?” Jack said.

“I didn’t hide anything. Leo filled out the asset sheets, I asked if they were truthful, he said yes. He didn’t list an offshore account and I didn’t ask.”

“How much money?” Jack said, evenly.

“I don’t know,” George said.

“Enough to have paid all of us back?” Jack asked.

“At one time, I believe there was enough in there to have paid you all back. But now? Who knows. It’s Leo. He could have spent that money a long time ago.”

“Or he could have doubled it,” Jack said. “He had enough money to take off. It had to be a decent amount.” Even though he’d told himself over and over that Leo had money hidden, he was stunned.

“I would agree with that assessment,” George said. “But I’m guessing, just like you are.”

“You were right,” Melody said to Jack. “You were right all along.”

“This is so messed up,” Bea said.

The three Plumbs looked at one another, lost in their confusion, trying to process a betrayal much more significant than the one they’d been dealing with mere minutes earlier.

“I don’t understand how this happened,” Melody said.

“It’s not hard,” George said. “Anyone can open an account like that. It’s perfectly legal—”

“I’m not talking about banking!” Melody snapped at George, who leaned back as if she’d slapped him. Melody’s face fell. She started crying. Bea poured everyone water. For many agonizing minutes, the only sound in the room was Melody hiccuping and blowing her nose. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I’ll be okay.”