Security stood discreetly near the hedges.
Rebecca remained at my side.
Brenda’s eyes flicked to her, then back to me.
“Thank you for coming out,” she said.
“I didn’t do it for you,” I replied.
She flinched, then nodded. “Fair.”
The garden smelled of wet roses and night air. Somewhere beyond the trees, the fountain murmured steadily.
For a few seconds, Brenda seemed unable to speak.
Then she said, “I am pregnant.”
My jaw tightened.
“But not with Elias’s baby.”
Rebecca’s posture changed almost imperceptibly.
I said nothing.
Brenda swallowed. “I let Cynthia think that because I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” I asked.
“Of her. Of Elias. Of what they’d do if they knew the truth.”
I almost laughed, but there was no humor in me.
“You expect me to believe you were protecting yourself by helping them plan to take my apartment?”
“No.” Brenda shook her head quickly. “No, I know how that sounds. I wasn’t helping. I was trying to understand how far Cynthia had gone.”
“You asked about the apartment.”
“Because Elias told me he had already put money into it. He said you tricked him into paying for a place you wouldn’t let him own.”
I stared at her.
“He said what?”
Brenda’s eyes filled, though she did not cry. “He told me you were secretive. That you had debts. That you used him. Cynthia said you were unstable, that you isolated him, that he felt trapped but was too kind to leave before the wedding.”
Rebecca spoke for the first time. “And you believed this?”
Brenda looked down.
“I believed enough of it to be stupid.”
The admission hung between us.
She drew a trembling breath. “Elias and I were close when we were younger. Too close, sometimes. But we were never together the way Cynthia wanted. She always thought I understood him better than anyone. When he got engaged to you, she started calling me more. Inviting me over. Telling me he was making a mistake. At first I thought it was just jealousy.”
“And the baby?” I asked.
Brenda touched her coat sleeve, twisting the fabric between her fingers.
“The father is Daniel Price.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Rebecca wrote it down.
“He works for Wilson Development,” Brenda said quietly. “Or he did. I don’t know anymore.”
My father had not come into the garden, but I suddenly wished he had.
