Page 13 of Sins of the Father

"Impressive," Orla says.

Mother continues through the album, showing business landmarks and family gatherings. When she reaches the company picnic from 2010, Orla goes still.

"A wonderful day," Mother says. "Tiernan invited everyone. That's Jenkins from accounting, and Thomas from finance..."

"Excuse me," Orla interrupts. "Where's your restroom?"

"Down the hall to your left," Mother directs.

Once Orla exits, Mother closes the album. "Unusual choice of assistant, she is very pretty."

I raise an eyebrow. "Pretty is not the problem. Your thoughts?"

"Smart. Observant. Asks questions."

"About what?"

Mother pauses. "The warehouse properties. Your father's associates from the nineties. Our current expansion plans."

A warning pulses in my mind. "Financial details?"

"Not exactly. She picked up on certain names." Mother takes a sip of coffee. "Thomas Nolan, specifically."

The name is familiar. He was a former accountant. He was murdered years ago in a break-in, if memory serves.

"Watch her," Mother advises. "Useful, yes, but her curiosity seems... dangerous."

Orla returns minutes later, composed yet rattled at the same time. Redness rims her eyes. Something in that photo hit her hard.

"Your mother knows the business better than she lets on," Orla says as we walk to our cars afterward.

I glance at her. "Mother is the brains behind the man. Her social queen act works well as cover."

"Similar to your legitimate businessman facade?"

Bold question.

"We all wear masks, Orla. The point is whether they serve us." I stop beside her car. "What mask are you wearing?"

Her green eyes meet mine directly. "I don’t need a mask, I am exactly who you see."

"For now." I open her car door. "I suspect you hide so much more."

She slides behind the wheel. "I'll consider that a compliment."

"It wasn’t." I close her door. "Remember one thing - this family misses nothing."

Driving back, I turn over the puzzle of Orla Kelly. Her reaction to that picnic photo. Her questions about past employees.

I should order a deeper background investigation. Yet I pause. Whatever game she is playing, I want to see her next move. My father taught me to keep enemies close.

Though I haven't decided if she's an enemy, an asset, or both. All I know is I'll be watching every step she takes.

CHAPTER 7

ORLA

The invitation was delivered to my desk by messenger, cream cardstock bordered in gold. Boston Children's Hospital Annual Benefit Gala, Saturday at the Fairmont Copley Plaza Hotel.

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