“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’ve been working on settling Forester’s estate, and Forester left a large settlement in his will to the Victoria Project.”

I felt myself relax. Wonderful, wonderful Forester. That he’d left the charity some money was such a sweet move. “Yes, Forester made donations to the charity before.”

Joel shifted in his chair. He exchanged a look with Ed. “Had he donated fifteen million before?”

“Fifteen million?” My mother’s charity was lucky if it raised two hundred thousand a year.

Joel nodded. “I’m concerned for a number of reasons, Izzy, which is why I’ve asked Ed to be here.”

Ed remained impassive, looking down, apparently studying his massive ring.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be discussing Forester’s will with you,” Joel said.

“I know.” Joel was one of the few attorneys I knew who didn’t gossip about his clients or his work.

“But there are a number of potential issues here that may draw litigation from the other beneficiaries of the estate. First of all, this is a very large bequest. Second, you were Forester’s attorney, so there may very well be a conflict of interest. I’ve got some people working on that.”

I knew what he meant. At this moment, two associates, probably one of them Erin, were scrambling to perform legal research about whether the mother of an attorney of a deceased client could be a beneficiary of the will. The law was full of sticky little questions like this, and I was sure Erin would be on Westlaw, searching high and low until the late hours of the evening.

“The last issue is the fact that your fiancé allegedly stole thirty million dollars of property from Forester,” Joel said.

“Thanks for the ‘allegedly.’”

Ed looked up now, a pissed-off expression on his face. “This is no time for sarcasm, Izzy. You’ve put us in a shithole of trouble here.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic, but I do think it’s humorous that you’re asserting that I have gotten the firm in trouble. I didn’t do anything except represent Forester to the best of my abilities, and make you guys a lot of money in the process. I don’t know anything about what Sam has done.”

“What about this donation to the Victoria Project?” Joel said. “Did you have prior knowledge of this?”

“None.” I stood. “But if you guys will excuse me, I’m going to find my mother and get some current knowledge.”

Joel began to sit forward in his chair, but Ed didn’t move.

“Izzy, I think you need to take a leave of absence,” Ed said. “Until all this business with Forester and Sam and your mom is sorted out.” He twisted his ring around, but didn’t take his eyes from me.

I looked down at my desk for a moment, remembering just last week when that desk was littered with files and notes and phone messages. I looked back up and met Ed’s gaze. “I agree.”

I grabbed my bag off the back of the door and left the law firm of Baltimore & Brown.

54

I called my mom as I hunted for a cab on LaSalle Street.

She answered on the first ring.

She wasn’t always like that. With her melancholy-her depression, if we called a spade a spade-Victoria McNeil required a lot of time to herself. She wasn’t the kind of mother who made herself indispensable. But since Sam had disappeared, she had taken all my calls quickly and let me know she was always available.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“At lunch with Cassandra.” My wedding coordinator. Or should I now call her a disaster-relief coordinator?

“She’s been calling,” I said. “Tell her I know we have to make decisions…I have to make some decisions, but I need a little more time.”

“Of course.”

“I have to see you.”

“We’re at P. J. Clarke’s.” Which was only about a block or so from her house. “Why don’t you take some time off and meet us for a salad. I’m afraid you’re running yourself into the ground with all this.”

“Will you meet me at your house in ten minutes?”

“We just ordered.”

“I need you, Mom.”

She didn’t pause. “I’ll see you there.”

Soon, I was sitting in my mother’s peaceful, ivory-colored living room. She looked beautiful, as always, in a crimson, wraparound designer dress that fit her as well as it had when she bought it thirty years ago. Her strawberry-blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Large, square-cut diamond earrings, a gift from Spence for their last anniversary, were the only jewelry she wore aside from her diamond wedding band.

She sat next to me and pulled me into a hug. When I didn’t return it as tight or as long as I normally would, she pulled back and regarded me, her chin turned to one side. “Has something happened?”

“Yes.” I disentangled myself and moved back a few inches. I wanted to be able to see her expression. “Forester left the Victoria Project fifteen million in his will.”

Her expression softened, a hand flew to her throat. “Are you…are you serious?”

“Yes. Did you know he was going to do that?”

“No.” She gave almost a bemused laugh. “I didn’t. But then you know Forester.”

“But this seems overly generous, even for him.”

“What an amazing man.” She turned to stare out the front window at its view of State Street, the sun bathing her face as she did. I noticed for the first time a faint, crepelike texture around her mouth.

“Mom,” I said, “why would Forester leave so much money to the Project?”

She turned back. “Because he was extremely generous. He had to leave his money somewhere.”

“You barely knew each other.”

“Forester knew how to help people. He loved doing it. And that’s what he’s doing, even now.”

“And you knew nothing about this?”

“No,” she said, a delighted but baffled expression on her face. “Not a thing.”

I believed her. My mother was not an actress. She couldn’t fake a good mood or an inauthentic reaction if she’d tried. And I’d often wished she could have tried harder in those early days after my dad died when we first moved to Chicago and her depression was almost palpable.

I fell back onto the couch. “I’m happy for the charity and everything, but it’s causing me some major problems at work.”

“Why?” she said, distressed now. My mother was a very smart woman, but she had little business sense, and she’d never worked for a big company or in the law.

“Because I was Forester’s attorney? And you’re my mother? And my fiancé already has thirty million?”

“Good Lord.” My mother’s expression went stern. “I didn’t think of that.”

We sat in quiet for a moment.

“Do you want some tea?” she asked.

“No, thanks.” A pause. “I quit today.”

“You quit?”

“Well, they took all my cases away and then I sort of quit and then they suggested a leave of absence.”

My mother shook her head. “I think we both need a glass of wine.”

“What the hell.”

My mother stood. “White burgundy?”

“Perfect.”

My mind returned to Dr. Li. Who had paid her to put ma huang in Forester’s herbs? I sat in my mother’s warm, cozy living room, thinking over the possibilities that were cold and unwelcoming. Shane stood to gain much financially and professionally from his father’s death. Chaz and Walt did, too, since they could control Shane, and therefore Pickett Enterprises, with Shane at the helm. Annette stood to come into a lot of money and could live the rest of her life without working for a living.

And then there was Sam, of course. Sam, with thirty million of bearer shares. But then Sam didn’t need Forester dead to steal those. My fiancé might have been a thief, but I still had a hard time believing him a murderer.

“Do you want any food, honey?” my mother called from the kitchen.

I turned and yelled no. When I turned back, my eyes fell on a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf to the right of the front window. In particular, my gaze was drawn to a certain item on that shelf.