Chapter 18 

Maria

Please let me know if this chapter is too long. I wasn't sure where to cut it off so I decided to give it a chance. If it's difficult to read for mobile users (if you notice it cuts off abruptly) I can split it into two parts. I know the chapters can sometimes load a bit funny. 

Another dinner over and done with. The only good thing about this particular dinner is that Robbie brought my maternal grandmother with him when he came back from South America. My Abuela was the only grandparent who loved us unconditionally growing up. She now had advanced stage dementia, but she kept her kindness, and with the treatment she had been getting, she had some lucid moments.

After dinner, she wanted to spend time with Robbie and me in our father's study. My mother, tired from the effort that a social gathering like a dinner took, was back in her room. The rest of my family was out to a show with Viviana's mother. Viviana was currently upstairs taking a shower and then had a video appointment with her friends. 

Abuela sat next to Robbie; he played Chopin for her on the piano as she leaned on his arm with her eyes closed. It was really cute.

She asked me about school. She asked Robbie about his clubs. She would probably forget in a few minutes, but it was possibly the nicest time I've spent with my family in a long time.

That is until she got too curious.

"What happened to that girl you were dating," She asked, "the little one who was always running."

She always asked this question. It was surprising to me since she met Lia with her dementia in its late stage. Somehow she didn't remember the maids she had for decades but always asked about Lia.

I got a little joy in it because she had known Abigail for ages, and her relationship with Robbie began at the beginning of grandmother's illness, yet she never remembered her. Or at least she was never mentioned. Call me petty, but I loved that it really bothered Abigail's mom and my other grandmother.

"We broke up a few months back," Robbie said shortly, with the tone he usually used when answering questions where Lia was concerned. Usually, even with her dementia, my Abuela always understood: drop it.

But today, she didn't.

"Oh, you both were so sweet. Reminded me of this boy I went steady with in high school before my parents made me marry your grandfather."

"Abuela," Robbie began; I am sure he was about to tell her he did not want to talk about it.

"Oh, I hope it wasn't because of Clarissa. I heard she bullied that poor girl. Had her in tears. You know how your grandmother can be so cruel."

Robbie froze, his hands stilled on the piano keys.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Excuse me?" Robbie asked, shaking his head.

"OKAY, Abuela! It's getting so late. Maybe I should call Ada to help you get ready for bed?"

She looked disoriented, "Oh, is it time for bed now? Who is Ada," She asked, forgetting what she was talking about.

"No. Stop," Robbie said, waving me away.

"I'm sorry, Abuela, what did you say," he asked, grabbing her hand to get her attention.

"ADA" I yelled out.

My grandmother turned her head to look at me in startled by my yelling. She turned back to look at Robbie, "What?" She asked him, already forgetting the last few minutes.

Robbie looked up at me, his eyes snaring mine and throwing daggers with his gaze. I felt my stomach turn.

"I'm going to get Ada," I mumbled like a coward and stepped out.

When I came back into the room, Robbie sat in front of the piano. His usually straight posture was hunched over.

Ada helped my Abuela out of the study. She had been my grandmother's caretaker for the last years and was expertly efficient at calming her down and convincing her of what she needed to do. She helped her up and walked her to us so she could give Robbie and me a kiss on the cheek. Abuela's skin felt like thin paper when I held her arm for support. Before leaving, she told me to vote for Jimmy Carter because he seemed like a nice man.

When we were alone, I walked tentatively to where Robbie was sitting.

"Robbie?" I asked timidly and inched my hand towards him.

"Is it true? Did you know?" He asked, his voice low.

"Rob–"

Robbie's jaw twitched, "did. You. Know""

"Yes, but Rob—" I started, but he slammed the key cover down and jerked up, fiddling with his tie. Pulling the knot away from his neck.

"Robbie, let me explain."

He stood in front of a large bookcase packed with leather-bound copies of classics and random trinkets my dad bought on his travels. His fingers tapped on his leg.

"I need to get out of here," he murmured.

"Robbie, please, please...where are you going?" I asked; when he ignored me, I ran and hurried in front of him and put my hands on his chest, "stop, please. Don't say anything; she's going to hurt her if you say anything," I said, my voice was almost manic.

"For fucks sake, Maria," he said as he shook me off and continued his flight out of the office.

I almost walked out with him but stopped myself. If we both walked out and looked like we were fighting, we would make a scene in front of the staff. Staff often liked to gossip, and it wasn't rare for that gossip to make itself known to us. I needed damage control; More importantly, I needed to stop him before he could confront my grandmother.

My grandmother was currently at the Opera with my grandfather and Viviana's family. I ran to the second floor of the study and slid open the bookcase that led to the tunnels running into Robbie's room. I needed to think about how I would fix this in the horrible scenario he somehow reached our grandmother already.

My grandmother is fantastic at gaslighting. If you could get a degree in the practice, she would have graduate summa cum laude and been nominated for a fellowship. I was sitting on his bed when the door opened.

"How the hell are you in here?" He asked me at the same time I asked him what the hell he was doing here so soon and if he managed to get a hold of Grandmother.

"It's my room," he retorted.

"I thought you would have tried calling our grandmother," I said, wringing my hands.

"I need a second; I'm too upset," he said, his mouth in a grim line.

"That's good," I said, nodding nervously, "that you're taking a minute, I mean."

He gave me a cold stare. I could almost feel the anger roll off of him in waves, "How did you get in here?" He asked again.

I pointed at his bookcase.

His face twisted in confusion.

"What are you talking ab—"

"Let's have lunch in the gardens," I said, cutting him off. I widened my eyes in a warning and pressed a finger to my lips.

"What?"

"Come on, Darla made her famous cherry pie, and I didn't get to have any. I told her to save me some."

He frowned,  refusing to cater to me, "but you just ate."

I mouthed a desperate please at him, and he gave me a nod giving in.

I made a show of it. Grabbed a blanket, had Darla heat up some pie as dessert.

Robbie sat down uncomfortably on the blanket. I offered him a cookie, and he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Explain, Maria,"

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Where ever you think is best," he said, giving me an irritated look.

"This house was built with tunnels. Dad and I assume the original owner really didn't like seeing their house employees. It's part of the reason dad wanted it so much. Not to never see his employees, they don't even know it exists—well, except Darla, she helped me look for them. Umm anyway, yeah... dad thought it was really cool," I explained.

He looked at me as if I were crazy.

"Robbie?"

"Okay, I can't process that right now. I mean, explain what our grandmother said about Lia," he said, rubbing his temples.

"Okay, but it's a lot," I said nervously, taking a raisin off one of the oatmeal cookies.

"Then, the sooner you start the better."

Almost everything spilled out in a rambling mess, and when I was done, I had made mulch of my cookie and several weeds that grew around us.

When I finished, Robbie just stared at me the entire time. It was unnerving and uncomfortable.

He bit the inside of his lip and nodded, "you're nuts," he said simply.

I let out a gasp, "You think I'm lying?"

"I think you believe you're telling the truth," he said, rubbing his face.

"Why would I lie about this? Why would Lia break up with you?"

"You said she was offered money; maybe she took it."

I felt a burst of anger and smacked his shoulder as hard I could, "I think it's fortunate that Lia isn't here to hear you say that bullshit, so I will tell you to fuck off for her," I said, upset at how callous he was being.

He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand, "I didn't mean that," he sighed, "I mean, it's the less exhausting explanation. Hearing your grandmother killed your father and tried to kill your girlfriend is not really something a person can easily wrap their mind around."

"I don't think she tried to kill her; I think it was to make a point," I corrected.

He looked at me as if I had two heads, "That doesn't take away the fact that she's essentially a psychopath. I mean, have you heard yourself? Either our family rivals the Mason clan, or you need a psychiatrist."

"I think our entire family needs a lot of therapy," I muttered.

He rapped his knuckle against his thigh and drew out a long breath, "okay, let's say it's true that our grandmother is basically the devil incarnate; what is her motive?"

"Money?"

"She has money."

"Well, yes, but, I mean, think about it, Robbie, she didn't like Lia. She was embarrassed and ashamed you weren't dating some boring WASP who you can marry and merge fortunes with."

"What does that have to do with our father?"

"I don't know. Dad was openly displeased with having to run the business; maybe she was afraid he would sell?"

"No. That doesn't make sense grandfather is the main stakeholder. Offing her child wasn't going to do anything. When grandfather died, if he died before dad, which was unlikely, his half of the business wasn't going to dad. It was going to be mine."

"Well, mine," I said.

"Yeah. I mean, whatever, you know what I mean. Also, Dad didn't own the entire business. Grandfather owns half, and dad wouldn't have been able to sell his half even if he wanted to; grandfather would have needed to sign off on it. They were partners. I mean, he could have tried, but the process is lengthy and would have taken longer than the time he had."

"Oh," I said, frowning. I didn't know this. I frankly had very little idea of how most things worked. They never were particularly keen to share this information with me.

"Yeah, this is why it all just doesn't make sense," he said. 

"Maybe she wanted Ted to take over." Our grandmother had expressed interest in our uncle having a role in business matters. He was a mess and an embarrassment; she hoped that Ted taking on that responsibility would put him on the right path like our father or our other uncle Allan, who owned another, smaller yet still successful business.

"No. She wanted him to have a portion of it. Not to take over. She doesn't trust him. He can barely keep himself alive, let alone take care of an entire enterprise."

"But she threatened, Lia."

"Yes, I believe you. I believe grandmother would give threats involving her scholarship or her father's job, even her family's financial security, but I don't think she killed our father. There's a big jump from extortion to homicide. I don't think she's a murderer," he said, shaking his head.

"You don't think she would hurt Lia if she thought you would sell everything for her?"

"I wasn't going to sell the business for Lia. I wouldn't even be able to if I wanted to. The same rules that applied to our father apply to me. Believe me, I looked into it."

"You barely showed up to meetings when the two of you were dating. You hated leaving," I said.

He frowned and bit his lip.

"You know Lia would not have wanted that lifestyle. Would you have chosen it over her?" I asked.

"No," he admitted, "I mean, I don't know we dated for a short amount of time; everything just feels like a weird dream now," he said, sounding uncharacteristically bitter.

"Robbie, she threatened her family. She sent her threatening pictures of her siblings demanding her to break up with you."

He shook his head, "it just doesn't make sense, Maria."

"She paid someone to follow them. She even had us followed for who knows how long. I have the pictures to prove it."

He sighed.

"Robbie?"

"What else," He asked, wanting to move the conversation forward.

"I think we're also being bugged."

"For fucks sake," he breathed out.

"I found some weird devices in my room. I can show you. Lia thinks they were to listen in on what we were saying. She took one apart."

"Do you have the other ones?"

I nodded, "I'll show you when we get inside."

"Can you email me the pictures?"

"Aren't all your emails tied to your work computer? Would that be that safe?"

"I suppose not. When we go back inside, ask me for help with math, I'll say I need to review whatever you're learning, then slip the devices into your textbook."

"Alright."

"The bugging, do you think it's just the house?" he asked. 

"Well, at school, she has access to the camera system. If she doesn't, it wouldn't be difficult for her to get access. Everything is saved on a cloud online. All you need is a password."

"Okay, so we'll be conservative and assume she does," he said, deep in thought.

"What about listening? Those cameras at school don't record sound, as far as I know," he continued. 

"I mentioned that to Lia, and she said we probably did not have to worry about that. Said that our house was also probably safe from anything visual. So, basically, watch what you say home and watch what you do at school."

"I guess that makes sense. Visual bugging is harder to be discreet with; I think we would notice a bigger device in our room," he muttered almost to himself. 

"Yeah, that's what she said; she also said that she thinks the classrooms and hallways are safe because the conversation would be difficult to discern. Also, cameras aren't allowed in the classrooms or bathrooms, so they're probably safe as well."

He nodded, "So, the only bugs you found were in your room?"

"Well, I never looked through yours, but if mine is bugged, I don't think it's a stretch to assume yours is as well," I said.

"What does Lia think about all of this?" He asked, running his hands through his hair.

"Same as you that it's insane, but you know, she's freaked out. Those text messages really shook her."

He rubbed his face again; his hair was already sticking out in messy angles.

"After all of this. Would she even want to be with me?" he asked.

"Of course she would, Robbie. Just not while her family is at risk."

Robbie bit the inside of his cheek and took a deep breath.

"Why? If what you're saying is true, then this is so insane. Why wouldn't she run away?" he muttered, leaning back on his hands.

"We can look for the bugs now and get rid of them," I suggested in a sad attempt to make things better.

Robbie stared out into the distance, and for a moment, I thought he hadn't heard what I said.

Finally, "Or we can keep them exactly where they left them," he said, deep in thought.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

He shrugged, "They don't know we know. This could be an advantage for us; It would allow us to potentially control the narrative. We just have to be mindful of what we say. Calculate every sentence from here on out. Maybe even add our own surveillance."

My eyes widened, "What if we forget and make a mistake?"

"It wouldn't be hard to cover up. You don't live here, and when I'm home, I'm not really talking to anyone. I can make a loop of ambient sound and add it to the microphones in our rooms. Have them listen to that rather than what we're actually doing. The technology for most mics is child's play. Every once in a while, when we want them to hear something, we turn it off. They'll hear only what we want them to hear."

"Okay," I said, slowly starting to follow him, "what's the ultimate goal with this?"

"If grandmother threatened Lia, and if she hurt our father, she's dangerous and needs to be taken care of. Grandmother is easy to please in the sense that we know exactly what she wants. We need to get her to believe that things are going her way. Get her comfortable enough to slip and expose herself."

"Lia and I have been trying to figure out how to do that for the past three months..."

He took out his phone and opened the note app.

"Our goal should be to get her to admit to everything. It's pointless to confront her. She's just going to deny everything. I think it's better to please her. Have her think she's in control of everything, and then have her willingly expose herself," Robbie explained while he jotted something down and grabbed a pumpkin seed off a pastry.

"Why would she do that?"

"Because she's a narcissist and she's extremely arrogant and petty; look at how Abuela knew about her harassing Lia. I'm sure our grandmother said something offhandedly. Our grandmother thinks she's god at times," he said, flicking the seed towards the grass.

"Yeah, but do you really think she's going to admit she killed our father? Like you said, threatening your girlfriend is one thing, murder is another."

"She's not going to fess up to me. She's going to fess up to Viviana's mom. They talk about everything. On the plane rides to Brazil, they talk for hours upon hours. Viviana's mother is just as controlling and self-serving. I can tell she would love to know about everything our grandmother is doing. The lady is also extremely manipulative and deft at getting what she wants out of people.  I think with the right amount of trust, nudging on our part, and some liquid encouragement...it's possible."

"I don't know; it seems complicated. Why would Viviana's mother even ask that?"

"Because we plant the seed in her mind that it's a possible outcome for her and her daughter. Don't worry, I have a plan," he said, "we just need to focus on making grandmother believe she got her way. That would be step one."

"Okay, and how do we even do that? She knows I hate her. You want me to start kissing up to her?"

"No. Of course not. That would be strange and suspicious. You keep being a brat around her; I'll handle it."

I punched him on the shoulder over the brat comment, "how will you handle it?"

"I give her what she wants."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning a merger of fortunes with a family of her choice."

I was about to ask what he meant when it suddenly dawned on me, "No. That girl...is so awful."

"She's not...the worst. She's just looking out for herself."

I stared at him, and he refused to meet my eyes. I felt the guilt start to creep in. This was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted to fix things. I tried to find the solution, and like always, I failed, and Robbie had to clean up the mess. Now he had to pretend