Natasha nodded. “From families sent to concentration camps.”
Rowan frowned. “But diamonds can be traced—especially valuable ones. He wouldn’t have taken that risk.”
“He was an amazing cutter, remember? He simply cut them to look different.”
“What about the yellow stone?” Aster asked. “The Corona?”
“It was one of many, but that was the crown jewel. I guess he and Harold had a pact; they were going to take their secrets to the grave.”
Rowan felt dizzy. “I think I only met Harold once. Maybe.” When she was very young, she remembered her grandfather having drinks with a man his age on the patio in Meriweather. They’d talked about golf and their children, she was pretty sure.
“Well, apparently Harold had a change of heart about six years ago,” Natasha went on. “His son contacted Mason and Alfred, saying it was Harold’s dying wish to go public and right their wrongs. They refused, of course, and soon Harold died, but the son just wouldn’t go away. They ended up paying him off, and making a large donation to the Holocaust Survivors’ Foundation.”
Aster’s eyes widened. “How do you know all this?”
Natasha adjusted the pillow behind her head and sighed. “Mason went to my mom for help because he couldn’t liquidate his company shares fast enough to pay off Browne’s son—he needed my mom’s approval. They had a huge argument in my father’s study one night that I overheard. My mom begged me not to tell.”
“Is that why you disinherited yourself?” Rowan asked.
Natasha nodded. “That money isn’t ours, not really. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”
Corinne touched Aster’s hand. “You said you found an e-mail thread between Poppy and Dad where he was trying to tell Poppy to keep quiet about something.”
“That’s right.” Aster regarded Natasha. “Did Poppy know?”
“I think so,” Natasha answered. “I thought you all knew, honestly, and were just keeping quiet. But about a year ago Poppy came to me and said, ‘I know why you’re so upset with the family.’ It turned out she’d just discovered the secret. She was meeting with Agent Foley—she was helping to track down the families Saybrook’s had stolen from and figure out a way to pay reparations.”
Rowan nodded, letting it sink in. So there it was. The reason why Foley and Poppy were meeting. Poppy wasn’t having an affair; she was trying to right an old wrong. She placed a hand on her stomach, sickened that she’d assumed the worst about her cousin.
She turned and watched as Corinne stared at her diamond bracelet, looking as though she wanted to take it off. Rowan recognized it: Alfred had given all the cousins matching ones years ago.
Their sweet grandfather. Rowan could still recall the feel of his leathery hand on hers. She pictured following his tall, straight back down the aisles of the Meriweather flea market, excited at the prospect of finding another Corona Diamond like he’d found in Paris.
But there hadn’t been a flea market in Paris, had there? It was a childish lie, and they had been fools to believe it.
“I wonder if Steven knew because he was Alfred’s protégé,” Corinne mused.
“Maybe,” Aster said, sinking into a chair next to Natasha’s bed. “And if Julia is telling the truth, Steven was going to go public the night he was killed.”
“Do you think that’s why Mason promoted Poppy instead of Steven?” Rowan mused.
Natasha nodded. “It sounds as if Steven was questioning the liquidation of the stocks. They were making moves to fire him and needed to promote someone in his place.”
“But Steven still managed to find out,” Aster said. “And he was out for revenge for having been passed over.”
Rowan paused to let this sink in. All this time, they’d all thought Poppy was promoted to president over Steven because she really and truly deserved it. That wasn’t exactly the case. Rowan wondered if Poppy had known that all along. Maybe not why, exactly, but that she was a replacement, a quick fill to cover something up. Jesus. James’s infidelity, the true reason why she got her job—there was probably so much that Poppy felt insecure about. Rowan would have never guessed.
Corinne looked at Natasha. “I can’t believe you’ve had to carry this burden all these years.”
Natasha slowly raised her tube-addled hand to push a stray hair from her face. “My mother begged me never to speak of it. She hated that she knew, let alone me.”
“We thought you killed Poppy,” Aster blurted. “You were acting so strange before the accident, refusing to meet with Foley . . .”
Natasha shrugged, looking shamefaced. “I just didn’t see the point. She already knew about the diamonds, and I didn’t have anything else to add. It was stupid of me.”
“What are we going to do, you guys?” Aster asked. “Now we know. We can’t just keep this to ourselves. My dad clearly knows—who else? And don’t you think we should finish what Poppy started? Make amends, somehow?”