Chapter 3 - Rosewood House
Claire left her own birthday party before the cake was cut.
She told Julian she had a migraine.
He offered to come home with her.
She almost smiled.
“No.”
“I can cancel the investor dinner.”
“You said it was important.”
“It is.”
“Then stay.”
Julian hesitated.
Claire kissed his cheek.
“Enjoy your evening.”
His guilt vanished beneath relief.
Twenty minutes later, Claire was driving toward Rosewood House.
The facility stood outside Chicago behind iron gates and tall oak trees.
It was not a hospital.
It was a private residential center for neurological rehabilitation and long-term care.
Claire parked across the road.
The lights in the main building were still on.
She searched the facility website.
There was no patient directory.
There was, however, a photograph of the medical director.
Dr. Samuel Warren.
Claire knew the name.
He had attended Christmas dinner at the Bennett house when Claire was seven.
She had not seen him in decades.
Another memory surfaced.
Her mother telling her Samuel was an old family friend.
Claire called the number.
A receptionist answered.
“Rosewood House.”
Claire swallowed.
“I’m trying to confirm whether Margaret Evans is a patient.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we cannot provide patient information.”
“I’m her daughter.”
The words came out before Claire could stop them.
There was a pause.
“Can I have your name?”
“Claire Hale Mercer.”
Silence.
Longer this time.
Then the receptionist said, “Please hold.”
Claire’s heart began hammering.
A man picked up.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Warren.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“You know who I am.”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
“Is Evelyn Hale alive?”
Dr. Warren breathed out slowly.
“Claire, this is not a conversation we should have over the phone.”
“So she is alive.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Where are you?”
“Outside your facility.”
This time, he cursed softly.
Five minutes later, the gate opened.
Dr. Warren met her near the lobby.
He had aged.
His hair was white now.
But Claire recognized the nervous habit of rubbing his thumb against his wedding ring.
“You look like her.”
“Like Evelyn?”
He nodded.
Claire’s throat tightened.
“Take me to her.”
“I can’t.”
“Then tell me why my husband has been paying for her care.”
Samuel looked startled.
That told Claire he had not known about Julian.
“Who told you that?”
“I found records.”
“Claire, there are things you don’t understand.”
“I understand that the woman who raised me is Evelyn Hale’s sister.”
Samuel looked toward the security desk.
“Come with me.”
He led Claire into a small consultation room.
Then he locked the door.
“Evelyn was twenty-seven when she had you.”
Claire sat down.
“She was brilliant, wealthy, stubborn, and completely devoted to you.”
“What happened?”
Samuel looked ashamed.
“Two months after you were born, Evelyn was in a car accident.”
Claire remembered the handwritten line.
Pending recovery of E.H.
“She suffered a traumatic brain injury.”
“Diane became my guardian.”
“Yes.”
“For forty years?”
Samuel’s eyes lowered.
“That was never supposed to happen.”
Claire stood.
“Where is my mother?”
“Claire.”
“Where is she?”
Samuel opened his mouth.
Then the door behind him clicked.
A woman stood there holding the frame for support.
She was thin.
Silver-haired.
Her left hand trembled.
But her eyes were exactly the same shade of green as Claire’s.
The woman stared at her.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Claire?”
Claire could not speak.
The woman reached into the pocket of her cardigan.
She removed an old photograph.
It showed a young Evelyn holding a newborn baby.
On the back, written in faded ink, were three words.
MY CLAIRE.
May you like
Then Evelyn whispered something that made Samuel turn white.
“Diane caused the crash.”
