'I brought you something,' she said. He looked at her.
She pushed toward him a steaming white styrofoam cup.
'Tea' she said.
'I got one for each of us' He took it, the tag to the tea bag hanging out as the steam rose aggressively.
He smiled.
'Tea, huh?' he said amiably.
'Even in North America you can't take the English out of an Englishwoman' She shook her head and sipped.
'What's inside someone, what he or she is born with, doesn't get scrubbed out,' she said. She sipped again 'My mother used to tell me that when I was small. I didn't understand it then 'But now?'
She looked at him as if to nod, her eyes soft and more relaxed than he'd seen them before. Some of the tension was gone from her face, even on a nerve-wrackin journey like this, even when about to face Zenger. Maybe a voyage on salt water, however short or rough, did that for someone. Maybe in the future, he caught himself thinking, they could take a voyage together. just off somewhere. No destination to speak of.
He caught himself What the hell was he thinking about?
'What would you do with it?' he asked.
'Do with what?'
'The money,' he said.
'All that Sandler money.'
She smiled.
'Even if we win, it's years away.'
'But eventually if you got it. Even if you got a small portion of it.
That's still a lot of dollars ' She appeared pensive. Go off somewhere, I suppose' she said.
'Stop worrying about my father. Never worry about money again She let a few more seconds go by.
'Maybe continue my education She looked at him with a sly smile.
'Want to hear something even funnier?'
'What?'
'I might even want to have a family someday,' she said.
'Who knows?'
He returned her smile, then was abruptly aware that her smile had vanished and the tension had returned to her face.
'I'll never have any of it while my father's alive' she said.
'Never. This can only end in one of two ways. Him or me He placed his hand on hers, which were fidgeting in her lap.
'We're doing all right,' he said.
'So far. The machinery of justice moves slowly, but it does move' '
She glanced up at him, looking him squarely in the eyes.
'I want to ask you something,' she said.
'And I want an absolutely honest answer. I won't be hurt, no matter what it is.'
'Go ahead.'
'Do you believe my story?' Several seconds passed.
'As you sit there she said, 'looking back at me, can you honestly say that you believe that everything I've told you is the truth.'
'The honest answer?'
'Yes He hesitated slightly, choosing his words with an attorney's care.
'At first I believed you maybe because I merely wanted to believe you.
But when you first told me your story, that day back in January, I accepted it. Then I began to doubt and question. I couldn't help it.
I was trying to examine your-case rationally. I've trained myself to question, not to accept what isn't readily provable .'
'I've come to grips with my doubts. I believe you're who you say you are. I believe you completely.'
Her eyes fell to her lap for a moment. He studied her and watched her lips move nervously for a moment. He was aware that she was huddled near him for warmth, her legs folded beneath her against the dampness.
He thought of the warm body huddled inside those extra layers of clothes. He thought of the protectiveness he felt toward her, despite the fact that he knew she could probably protect herself better than he could himself.
She leaned to him and kissed him softly on the cheek.
'I'm glad you believe me she said.
'Mr. Zenger's going to say I'm an impostor. I wanted to know if you would stick by me. No matter what.'
'I'm unshakable' he said.
She hugged him suddenly, almost spilling both cups of tea. On the other side of the grimy gray window, with rain spattering into small rivers on the opposite side, the outline of Nantucket harbor was slowly becoming visible through the fog.
Then she pulled away for a moment.
'And what would you do with it?' she asked.
'With what?'
'The money. Your share if we win?'
'I'd go off and get lost,' he said.
'With someone I liked.'
Their car had emerged from the hull of the ferry, had driven to the remote southwestern end of the island, and had pulled to a halt before the stone domicile of Zenger.
The hour was late, well past eight in the evening. The windows of the stone house blazed warmly from within. Thomas and Leslie walked up the flagstone path as the rain, carried on sweeping easterly winds, continued to pelt them.
Mrs. Clancy, the housekeeper, was gone for the evening. So when Thomas banged the brass knocker on the solid oak door, almost two full minutes passed before there came any response.
'But today?'
Then the door slowly opened and the light from within flowed out in a sudden wedge.
'Thomas'' rasped Zenger, standing in the alcove, holding the door ajar.
'I've been expecting-' His eyes hit Leslie, unseen until that moment.
'Good evening, Mr. Zenger,' she said with both civility and charm.
Zenger recoiled rudely, stepping backward two steps into a darker spot in the hallway. His eyes were in a shadow and Leslie stepped forward with some effort to see him.
He reached to the breast pocket of his maroon robe, pulled from the pocket a pair of heavily tinted glasses, and seemed to study her through them. Thomas observed him with rising suspicion and dislike.
She, in turn, returned the scrutiny, looking him up and down and trying to see past the glasses to his eyes.
'Yes' said Zenger slowly, as if in appraisal.
'This is the woman you spoke of last time ' He glanced to Thomas, then back to Leslie with disdain.
'The one calling herself Sandler's daughter.'
'It's not a matter of what I call myself, Mr. Zenger,' she said flatly.
'That's who I am.'
'Young lady,' he said with condescension, his expression tightening with distrust and dislike.
'I'm an old man. It's late in the evening. I'm not fair game for a lengthy argument' 'His eyes, behind the tinted glasses, flashed with anger.
'You're welcome to your opinion, your claim, and your day in court. But within my own house I'm entitled to voice my own view.' He looked back to Daniels.
'I know a fraud when I see one, Thomas. Why did you bring her here?'
