The Arrangement

27.2 | Birthday Condolences

With no phone, Tracy had settled on reading a book she chose from one of the shelves in the living room. Troy had dozed off to sleep on the opposite sofa as she read. It was difficult for Tracy to concentrate on the story, her mind plagued with thoughts of Matthew and the funeral. She pressed on, however, trying to immerse herself in the world of the novel.

Soon, the murmur of paparazzi outside drifted into the living room. Tracy heard the front door open and felt a rush of excitement, her heart momentarily lifting, only to feel mildly disappointed when it was just Sebastian. He told her how Matthew had disappeared shortly after the burial. "I was hoping he was already here," Sebastian said, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Tracy couldn't help but worry. But, with no way to contact him -- and Sebastian's calls going straight to voicemail -- Tracy returned to her book, trying to find solace in its pages as she anxiously awaited Matthew's return.

An hour later, the paparazzi outside had gone wild, their relentless flashing cameras and noise convincing Tracy that it had to be Matthew. Sebastian walked to the foyer as Tracy listened, anticipating the sound of Matthew's voice. She waited to greet him out of sight from the paparazzi at the door. The opening of the door awakened Troy, who asked Tracy what was going on.

"Oh, Misses Cavanaugh," Sebastian's voice rang out, tension echoing in the foyer. "What a pleasant surprise." Troy and Tracy listened intently from the living room.

"I'm sure it is, Sebastian," the lady responded, her tone unamused. Her British accent, reminiscent of old movies depicting pre-20th century London, betrayed her age. "I came to see my grandson, since he couldn't be bothered to stick around before the dirt settled over his grandfather's grave," she said, her voice rising to a crescendo. The harsh strike of something against the ground harmonized with the footsteps growing gradually louder. Tracy realized too late that they were nearing the living room. "Please fetch him for me, Sebastian. I shan't overstay my welcome, or lack thereof. I just need to speak with him."

Tracy's heartbeat quickened as the footsteps approached. She glanced at Troy, who looked equally tense, wondering what would come next.

"I assure you are always welcome, Misses Cavanaugh," Sebastian said, attempting to soothe the tension. But as Troy grabbed Tracy, trying to escape through another exit, Veronica, Sebastian, and Mrs. Cavanaugh entered the room, causing both parties to freeze. Tracy felt more like an outsider than ever.

Tracy had seen pictures of Mrs. Eleanor Cavanaugh, the matriarch -- and recent widow -- of the family, during her investigation the previous day. However, seeing her in person was an entirely different experience. The older woman, in her eighties, stood at average height compared to Veronica's tall stature with her cane attached. She exuded a level of sophistication, grace, and authority reminiscent of a queen. Her expression was somber, adding to her formidable presence.

"Who are they?" Mrs. Cavanaugh asked Sebastian with authority while gazing at the two with stern curiosity. Tracy's breath caught in her throat as she faced Mrs. Cavanaugh, unsure of how to introduce herself. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, making it difficult to think and speak.

"Hello, Misses Cavanaugh," Troy said, taking a step forward and gently pulling Tracy along with him. "You may not remember me, but we met last year. I'm Troy, Matthew's friend and business partner," he added with a charm that Tracy found astonishing. His face lit up the room, leaving her even more bewildered.

"Oh, yes, I do vaguely remember you," Mrs. Cavanaugh replied, extending her hand for a handshake. "How do you do?" she asked as their hands met. Troy reciprocated her greeting and offered his condolences to the recent widow and her family.