Chapter 6 - The Last Secret of the Hayes Family
His name was Michael Hayes.
Declan had been told Michael died when they were children.
A boating accident.
No body recovered.
Another death without a body.
Lana immediately noticed the pattern.
“Your family really needs to stop accepting empty coffins.”
Declan almost smiled.
Almost.
Daniel explained.
Michael hadn't died.
Patrick had hidden him.
But unlike Daniel's disappearance, Michael's had begun when he was only fourteen.
“Why?”
Declan demanded.
Daniel hesitated.
“Because Michael saw Victor do something.”
“What?”
“Kill a man.”
Silence swallowed the diner.
Patrick feared Victor would eliminate Michael too.
So he sent his younger son away under another identity.
Declan stared at the photograph.
“My father let me believe my brother was dead.”
“He thought he was protecting both of you.”
Declan laughed once.
Bitterly.
“Protection.”
Lana understood.
The word had become poisonous to both of them.
Daniel placed an address beside the photograph.
Michael now lived in Maine.
Declan went alone.
Lana insisted he needed to.
Some reunions belonged only to the people who had lost each other.
He returned three days later.
Different.
Lighter.
Michael had built a quiet life.
A wife.
Two children.
He wanted no part of the Hayes businesses.
But he had something Patrick left him.
A recorded statement.
Patrick confessed everything he knew about Victor.
More importantly, he admitted his own failures.
He had allowed fear of scandal to become fear of truth.
He had protected the family name instead of the family.
That sentence stayed with Declan.
Weeks turned into months.
The investigations continued.
Victor's network unraveled through documents, testimony, and records preserved by Daniel and Margaret.
Bellweather residents received refunds for improper charges.
Several properties were returned.
The care facility changed ownership.
Margaret remained there by choice because she liked her nurses.
But now Daniel visited every day.
Their reunion was complicated.
There were arguments.
Long silences.
Tears.
Some wounds could not be repaired by a dramatic embrace.
They required mornings.
Meals.
Apologies repeated through action.
Daniel learned that forgiveness was not something Margaret owed him.
It was something he had to become worthy of.
Lana watched them carefully.
She was learning the same lesson with Declan.
Their professional partnership became unexpectedly successful.
Lana refused to be impressed by him.
Declan found that irresistible.
She corrected him in meetings.
He brought her coffee.
She rejected three of his proposed investments.
He funded her fourth.
She forced the foundation to publish financial reports understandable to ordinary families.
He made sure nobody interfered.
One evening, nearly nine months after the night they met, they sat inside the Midnight Owl after closing.
Lana still occasionally helped Eddie when someone called out sick.
Declan claimed the coffee was better there.
Lana knew that was a lie.
“You can afford coffee made from beans harvested individually by monks.”
“I prefer this.”
“This tastes like burnt tires.”
“Sentimental burnt tires.”
Lana smiled.
Outside, rain began falling.
Exactly like the first night.
Declan looked at her.
“What?”
She asked.
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“About the five million.”
Lana groaned.
“Not again.”
“If I asked you now?”
“Asked what?”
“What would you do with five million dollars?”
Lana considered.
Then smiled.
“I'd buy the Midnight Owl.”
Declan blinked.
“What?”
“Eddie's landlord is selling the building.”
“How much?”
“Don't.”
“I only asked—”
“No.”
Declan raised both hands.
Lana continued.
“I'd renovate the kitchen. Keep the booths. Fix the neon sign.”
“That sign is a fire hazard.”
“That sign is history.”
“It sounds like an electrical insect.”
“Exactly.”
“And then?”
“Turn the upstairs offices into free financial counseling rooms.”
Declan watched her.
“For people in debt?”
“For anybody.”
She shrugged.
“Most people don't need somebody to make them rich. They need somebody to explain why they're drowning.”
Declan nodded.
“Good idea.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“Lana.”
She looked at him.
“I spent most of my life believing power meant making sure nobody could tell me no.”
“And now?”
“Now I think it might mean being strong enough to hear no and stay.”
Lana's smile faded.
He wasn't talking about business.
“Declan—”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“Then tell me.”
She looked down at the counter.
“You arrived in my life carrying everything I was taught to avoid.”
“I know.”
“Money. Violence. Secrets. Men in black cars.”
“Technically the car was—”
“Declan.”
“Sorry.”
She almost smiled.
“My father disappeared because of your family.”
“Yes.”
“My mother spent twelve years grieving.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow…”
She looked at him.
“Somehow when something happens, you're the first person I want to call.”
Declan said nothing.
“That makes me angry.”
“I can live with angry.”
“You've noticed.”
“I have.”
She reached across the counter.
Took his hand.
“No more secrets.”
“None.”
“No protecting me by deciding things for me.”
“Agreed.”
“No surveillance.”
“That one hurts.”
She gave him a look.
“Kidding.”
“Terrible joke.”
“I was nervous.”
That surprised her.
“Declan Hayes gets nervous?”
“Apparently around waitresses.”
She laughed.
Then kissed him.
It wasn't dramatic.
No music.
No applause.
Just two exhausted people in a diner after midnight.
When they separated, Eddie's voice came from the kitchen.
“Finally.”
Lana closed her eyes.
“Why are you still here?”
“Inventory.”
“You've been doing inventory for forty minutes?”
“Very complicated ketchup situation.”
Declan laughed.
Then Lana noticed an envelope pushed beneath the diner door.
Her smile disappeared.
Declan saw it too.
He retrieved it.
No name.
Inside was a single page.
A copy of an old financial document.
At the bottom was Patrick Hayes's signature.
And beneath it:
Beneficiary: Lana Bennett.
Lana stared.
“What is this?”
Declan turned the page over.
A handwritten note appeared on the back.
Three sentences.
Patrick knew Daniel might never come home.
He created a trust for Daniel's daughter.
Victor never found it.
Lana looked at the amount.
Then looked again.
“No.”
Declan was equally stunned.
Patrick Hayes had left Lana something twelve years earlier.
Not five million dollars.
May you like
Much more.
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