Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Photographs.
The next photograph showed Andrew standing outside a real estate office.
Natalie was beside him.
They were holding hands.
A smiling real estate agent stood between them.
Behind the three of them was a large sign advertising lakefront properties.
I looked at Rebecca.
“What am I looking at?”
She hesitated.
“My daughter thinks Andrew is selling this house.”
Lorraine made a sharp sound behind me.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Rebecca turned toward her.
“You must be his mother.”
Lorraine raised her chin.
“And who exactly are you?”
“The woman whose daughter your son has been lying to.”
Lorraine’s face went pale.
I moved aside and invited Rebecca inside.
Lorraine immediately protested.
“You are not bringing some stranger into Andrew’s house.”
I closed the door.
“My house.”
The words landed harder this time.
Rebecca sat at the dining table while I spread the photographs across the polished wood.
There were more than twenty.
Andrew and Natalie at restaurants.
Andrew and Natalie shopping for furniture.
Andrew and Natalie walking through an expensive property near Pittsford.
Andrew and Natalie outside the lake cottage.
One photograph showed Natalie wearing Andrew’s college sweatshirt while carrying groceries through the cottage door.
That detail hurt more than the kiss.
I had bought him that sweatshirt online after he complained that his original one had fallen apart.
Somehow the smallest betrayals often felt the most intimate.
“How long?” I asked.
Rebecca looked ashamed.
“About eleven months.”
Lorraine shook her head.
“No.”
Rebecca ignored her.
“Natalie met him at a medical equipment conference in Buffalo.”
I frowned.
“Andrew sells commercial building supplies.”
“That’s what I thought was strange.”
Rebecca folded her hands tightly.
“He told Natalie he owned a healthcare construction company.”
I stared at her.
“He told her what?”
“He said he was going through a difficult divorce.”
Lorraine suddenly stepped forward.
“My son would never say that.”
Rebecca pulled out her phone.
“Would you like to hear him?”
Lorraine stopped.
Rebecca played a voice message.
Andrew’s voice filled the dining room.
“I promise, sweetheart, Claire is almost completely out of the picture.”
My breath caught.
Andrew continued.
“Once the financial side is settled, the Rochester house is going on the market.”
Lorraine grabbed the back of a chair.
The recording continued.
“My mother already understands what needs to happen.”
I looked at Lorraine.
She stared at the floor.
Something inside me shifted.
“Lorraine.”
She did not answer.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes.
“What did he mean?”
“He lies.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Rebecca watched silently.
Lorraine’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
My phone rang.
Andrew.
I let it ring.
Lorraine moved toward me.
“You need to answer him.”
“No.”
“He deserves to explain.”
“Explain what?”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
I looked at Rebecca.
Then I looked back at Lorraine.
“That sounds like something people say when the whole story is worse.”
My phone stopped ringing.
Three seconds later, a text arrived.
Happy birthday, babe.
Running late.
Plumbing issue is worse than expected.
Love you.
I stared at those words.
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“My daughter is at the cottage.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“She drove there last night.”
Lorraine whispered something under her breath.
Rebecca continued.
“Natalie believes Andrew plans to propose tonight.”
I laughed once.
It did not sound like me.
“He already has a wife.”
“I know.”
Rebecca reached across the table.
“She doesn’t.”
Before I could respond, another message arrived from Andrew.
This one included a photograph of a leaking pipe beneath a sink.
I enlarged it.
Then I noticed the reflection in the chrome faucet.
A woman wearing a white robe stood behind him.
Rebecca looked at the image.
“That’s Natalie.”
Lorraine sat down.
I did not.
I called Megan again.
“Change of plans.”
“What happened?”
“My husband’s girlfriend is currently at our lake cottage.”
Megan inhaled slowly.
“Whose name is on the cottage?”
“My grandmother left it to me.”
There was a long silence.
Then Megan said four words.
“Do not warn Andrew.”
I looked at the photographs covering my table.
“Why?”
“Because if he’s trying to refinance your home while secretly planning to sell property he doesn’t own, we need to know exactly how far he has gone.”
I glanced at Lorraine.
She was crying now.
But something about those tears bothered me.
They did not look surprised.
“Megan.”
“Yes?”
“I think Lorraine already knew.”
May you like
Lorraine looked up sharply.
And the terror in her face gave me my answer.
