That silenced her.
I turned away.
Our daughter’s toys were scattered across the living-room rug.
A plastic tea set.
A stuffed rabbit with only one ear.
A pair of tiny pink shoes.
Everything looked suddenly unbearably ordinary.
“Explain.”
Claire sat at the edge of the sofa.“Our father was named Arthur Vale.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Should I know who that is?”
“Probably not.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because Arthur Vale owned Vale Maritime.”
I still didn’t understand.
Claire continued.
“It used to be one of the largest privately owned shipping companies on the East Coast.”
I stared at her.
“Used to be?”
“He died eight months ago.”
The timing made something cold crawl through me.
“Eight months?”
“Yes.”
Two months before Jack’s diagnosis.
Claire nodded as if reading my thoughts.
“When he died, his estate had to be settled.”
“How much?”
She didn’t answer.
