“What don’t I know,” Cloe said.
She had stepped away from the group, into the corner of the hallway, her back to the others. Eleanor had taken the children toward the building manager with the focused efficiency of a woman who understood when adults needed a moment. Mac was watching her from across the hall. She met his eyes briefly and he stayed where he was.
Grace took a breath on the other end.
“Marshall came to me three months ago,” she said. “Before the article. Before any of this was public. He came to find me.” A pause. “I hadn’t spoken to him in twenty years. He showed up at my door and he said he wanted to tell Jonah the truth himself. Before anything came out. Before anyone forced his hand.”
Cloe was very still.
“He knew something was coming,” she said.
“He said Sandra had
