Chapter 34 - The Scent of Pine and Regret
The following afternoon, Eleanor advised that we serve a secondary subpoena directly upon the legal conservator of Evelyn Montgomery.
Evelyn was now seventy-eight years old, residing in a quiet, state-subsidized assisted living facility in Paramus, New Jersey. She had suffered a mild stroke three years prior, which had stripped away her venom and left behind a fragile, confused shell of the woman who had once reigned over her social circle with an iron fist.
I decided to accompany Eleanor. Marcus offered to come, but I asked him to stay with little Sarah. This was a chapter of my life that had begun between Evelyn and me, and I needed to see it through to its conclusion with my own eyes.
The facility smelled faintly of industrial pine cleaner, boiled vegetables, and stale linen. It was a world entirely devoid of the polished brass, white calla lilies, and private elevators that Evelyn had considered her birthright.
We found her sitting in a vinyl armchair near a sunlit window overlooking a modest patch of gravel and evergreen shrubs. A faded wool blanket was draped over her knees. Her once-immaculate coiffure was thin, gray, and carelessly pinned back, and her hands trembled softly as they rested against the armrests.
"Mrs. Montgomery?" Eleanor said gently, approaching the chair.
Evelyn turned her head slowly. Her pale eyes drifted past Eleanor and landed on me. For a long, silent moment, there was no recognition. Then, something flickered behind the dull glaze of her pupils—a sudden, sharp spark of memory.
"Sarah..." she whispered, her voice reedy and cracked, sounding like dry autumn leaves scraping across concrete.
"Hello, Evelyn," I said, standing before her, dressed in a simple tailored cashmere coat, my posture calm and upright.
"You... you look like you did in the magazines," she muttered, her trembling fingers plucking at the hem of her blanket. "Julian brought me a clipping once. He was screaming. He said you stole our money. He said you took our home."
"Julian lied to you, Evelyn," I said, keeping my tone gentle, devoid of cruelty or spite. "I paid for that home with my own earnings. Julian lost your estate to a man named Jonathan Cross fifteen years ago. And now Cross is using Julian to attack my foundation."
Evelyn’s breath hitched. She looked down at her lap, tears welling in the corners of her sunken eyes.
"Jonathan..." she murmured, shaking her head slowly. "Julian told me Jonathan was a family friend. He brought papers to the penthouse... while you were at the hospital. Julian told me to sign them so we could kick you out. He said Jonathan would give us two million dollars if we put the lease in Julian’s name and evicted you."
Eleanor took a swift, sharp intake of breath beside me.
May you like
"Evelyn," Eleanor said firmly, stepping forward and activating the digital recorder on her phone. "Did Jonathan Cross induce you and Julian to break Sarah's lease under a fraudulent private agreement?"
Evelyn looked up at me, her face contorting with a sudden, devastating grief. "I kept the blue folder, Sarah," she wept softly. "The papers Jonathan gave him. Julian thought he threw them away, but I hid them in the bottom of my cedar chest in the storage locker down the hall. I was so afraid... so afraid we’d have nothing left."
