Evelyn gripped the chair’s back. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t,” Dale said. He’d modulated his voice now, and it was all brown sugar. “I’m sorry we’re just springing it on you now, honey. We didn’t think it would go anywhere, and we still don’t, but the government’s been leaking things to the press, and it was bound to get out.”
Barbara turned from the window. “This shouldn’t have happened,” she said. Her hand was shaking, but her body was still. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Well, it did happen. It is happening.” Evelyn was trying to keep her voice even, but it kept modulating unpredictably as though someone else were controlling the volume knob. “It happens that Dale Beegan is being investigated by a grand jury. It happens that maybe you should mention that to your child before several months have gone by. Maybe that would be a good idea.”
“We didn’t think it was necessary—” Dale said.
“Well, it was. It was necessary.”
“Evie, don’t get all worked up. The investigation seems stalled in its tracks except for this one unemployed fellow making false claims. We thought we’d talk to you about it in person because we knew you were coming down for the party—”
“And what a lovely party it will be!” Barbara cried, ridding herself of the slight Baltimore accent that she sometimes sank into when tired or angry, and plowing into her Sag Neck chatelaine voice, long Katharine Hepburn vowels mixed with the nasality of Ethel Merman. “Now, Evelyn, what do you say, shall we go to the Channings’ party in our Fourth dresses and pretend as though nobody knows your father is being investigated for—what would it be? Money laundering? Bribery? Doesn’t that sound like a lark? I’m sure Sally Channing will be just delighted to see us there, this trio of Dale Beegan and his wife and daughter, and give us a warm welcome. Sally’s friends will be delighted to see us, too, after reading the fascinating newspaper accounts of how the United States government says you’ve been breaking the law.”
“Barbara. That’s enough. I told you, if you want to skip the party, you can,” Dale said.
There was something especially troubling in what they had said, swirling above the upside-down idea that her father was being investigated by a grand jury, above the tension in the room, above the dreadful day that was ahead where Evelyn would either be forced to go to this party or forced to stay home with her furious parents. That was it. Newspaper accounts. If this was getting coverage, all her friends could potentially know about it already. They could’ve been e-mailing it around in the days since Lake James; she could practically see Nick’s message: “Looks like someone’s life is less perfect than she’s pretending.” Camilla, too, might be a newspaper reader, and even if she wasn’t, with the way everything went online and spread quickly these days, there was no controlling or predicting what would be read by whom. Evelyn would be laughed at. “This is in the papers?” she said in a small voice.
Her mother let out a high-pitched “Ha!”
Her father ran his tongue over his front teeth. “That’s what papers do, Evelyn. They try to make something out of nothing.”
“In New York? New York papers aren’t writing about this, right?”
“I haven’t followed it that closely, honey.”
“Oh. No.” Evelyn backed a few steps away from him and from her mother, moving back toward the thick wooden door to the foyer. “Dad, you’re not serious, right? This has been written about? With your name in it?”
“The newspapers are writing about pure speculation. Pure speculation.”
“Is your name in it? In the pieces?”
He squinted at her with a big grin, the one he used in summations that she had long ago termed the Bedazzler. “I don’t recall whether the papers said my name or the firm’s name. It doesn’t matter. We all know the truth.”
“Do we?” said Barbara as Evelyn backed up a few more steps; she figured if she could just get to the door frame, she could leave without their noticing. She wanted to Google it; she didn’t want to Google it. Someone would have said something to her if they’d heard about it in New York. Preston or Charlotte would’ve mentioned it, and Nick and Scot probably read only about finance. Definitely only finance. Camilla couldn’t be a newspaper reader. Camilla probably didn’t even know Evelyn’s last name. New York blogs wouldn’t care about a Maryland lawyer. It was all right. It would be fine.