🏡 The Lake House He Tried to Take

Chapter 11 - Amelia Rose

Amelia did not look like Claire.

That was the first thing Claire noticed, and then immediately hated herself for noticing.

Amelia had auburn-brown hair with a copper thread running through it, a wider mouth, and the kind of practical posture that came from lifting boxes, carrying groceries, and not waiting for anyone to open doors. But her eyes had Walter’s pale green. So did Claire’s. So did Ryan’s. The three of them wore the same proof differently.

Judge Caldwell allowed a recess.

Walter’s attorney asked for it with the look of a man who had just discovered his client’s iceberg extended under the entire courthouse. Walter did not move from his chair until the bailiff quietly reminded him. Victor rushed out first, phone already in hand, sweat shining along his hairline.

Claire stood near the hallway window, trying to breathe.

Amelia approached with no hesitation.

“I’m Amelia.”

“Claire.”

“I figured.” Amelia’s mouth twitched. “You have the expression of someone who found a trapdoor under breakfast.”

Claire laughed.

It came out broken, but real.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

Amelia shook her head. “Honey, I was born dragged into this. I just finally got an address.”

That sentence did more than sympathy could have.

Claire looked toward the courtroom doors. Ryan stood near the drinking fountain, watching them with a face full of things he did not know how to say. Jenna stood a few feet away from him, arms folded, not offering comfort but not leaving either.

Amelia followed Claire’s gaze.

“That your brother?”

“One of them, apparently.”

Amelia nodded. “Families are overachievers when it comes to mess.”

Claire liked her more every minute.

Rebecca came over with her phone pressed to her ear, then lowered it. “We have a problem.”

Claire almost smiled. “Only one?”

“Victor left the courthouse.”

Amelia’s face hardened. “Of course he did.”

Rebecca looked at her. “You know him?”

“My mother had a name for him I won’t say in court.”

“Please don’t,” Rebecca said. “But tell me outside of court later.”

Claire leaned closer. “Where would Victor go?”

Rebecca’s jaw tightened. “To destroy records.”

“His office?”

“Most likely.”

Amelia reached into her bag and pulled out a manila envelope. “Then you’ll want this before he does.”

She handed it to Claire.

Inside were copies of old letters, bank statements, and a Polaroid of Marla Pierce holding baby Amelia in a backyard. At the bottom was a photocopy of a receipt from St. Agnes Home. Not for Evan. For legal services.

Victor Hale, Attorney at Law.

Claire looked up. “Victor was an attorney?”

“Briefly,” Amelia said. “Disbarred in the nineties. My mother said he reinvented himself as a notary because paper was the only thing he knew how to bend.”

Rebecca took the receipt.

“This connects him to St. Agnes.”

“And to my mother.” Amelia’s voice tightened. “He drafted a support agreement Walter never signed. Then told her pursuing it would ruin Laurel.”

Claire felt the old pattern again. Women turned against one another by men holding the matches.

“My mother called yours decent,” Amelia said. “She said Laurel deserved better than all of them.”

Claire had to look away.

The courthouse hallway window looked out over a parking lot, not a lake. People walked to and from their cars carrying folders, coffee, arguments. Life continued with vulgar confidence.

Ryan approached slowly.

Claire braced herself.

He stopped in front of Amelia. “I’m Ryan.”

Amelia looked him over.

“I know.”

His face flushed. “Right.”

Claire expected him to say something defensive. Something Ryan-like. Instead he swallowed.

“I didn’t know about you.”

“I assumed.”

“I didn’t know about Evan either.”

Amelia’s expression softened by one degree. “Nobody knew enough.”

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. He looked younger without certainty.

“I signed what Dad put in front of me,” he said to Claire. “That doesn’t excuse it.”

“No,” Claire said.

He nodded, absorbing the fact that she would not rescue him from the sentence.

“Jenna told me she filed the affidavit.”

“She did.”

“I deserved that.”

“Yes.”

His mouth tightened, but he stayed.

That mattered, a little.

Before anything else could be said, Rebecca’s phone rang. She answered, listened for ten seconds, and swore softly.

“What?” Claire asked.

“Victor’s office is empty. Assistant says he came in at seven this morning, removed three storage boxes, and left.”

Amelia said, “Where would he take them?”

Ryan looked toward the courtroom doors, then back at Claire. “Dad has a storage unit.”

Everyone turned to him.

He lifted both hands. “I don’t know what’s in it. I only know because he had me pay the bill once when he forgot his checkbook. Place off Route 12. Cedar Lock Storage.”

Rebecca pointed at him. “Unit number?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Try harder.”

Ryan closed his eyes. “Thirty-eight? No. Thirty-six. Blue door.”

Claire stared at him.

It was the first useful thing he had given her without being forced.

Rebecca was already moving. “I’m calling the police.”

Amelia fell into step beside Claire as they walked toward the exit.

Behind them, the courtroom doors opened and Judge Caldwell’s clerk called everyone back.

Rebecca stopped.

The hearing.

The storage unit.

Victor.

Walter.

Too many fronts, all at once.

Judge Caldwell appeared in the doorway herself, robe moving around her like a storm cloud.

“Ms. Sloan, I will issue a temporary denial of the conservatorship petition pending further review. Ms. Waverly retains full control of her property. I am also referring portions of today’s filings to the appropriate authorities.”

Walter stood behind the judge, face drained.

The judge looked at Claire.

“And Ms. Waverly? Change every lock you own.”

Claire nodded.

Walter’s voice came from behind the judge, low and poisonous.

“You think you’ve won.”

Claire turned toward him.

He smiled then.

Not big. Not sane.

“Ask Amelia why her mother really kept that box.”

Amelia went still.

Claire looked at her new sister.