Chapter 165| What Susan Noticed
Susan’s visits to Hegeville had become, over the preceding months, a quiet and unremarkable fixture of Allen’s own considerable schedule, each one carrying a little less of the careful, guarded formality that had once defined nearly every interaction between them, and Allen found himself, greeting her at the guild’s entrance on a bright, unremarkable afternoon, genuinely glad for the visit rather than simply tolerating it.
"You look tired," Susan observed, studying him with careful, uncharacteristically direct concern.
"Long few weeks," Allen admitted, leading her toward the guild’s meeting room. "Investigation’s still ongoing. Farrow’s tracking something new, though I can’t say much more than that yet."
Susan’s expression sharpened slightly at the mention, old instincts surfacing despite her own genuine, ongoing effort toward warmer, more honest engagement. "Anything I should be concerned about?"
"Maybe," Allen admitted, deciding, after a moment’s consideration, that the careful honesty Myria had counseled deserved extending toward Susan as well, within reason. "Farrow’s identified a fragment suggesting someone in our extended family circle may have unknowingly facilitated some of Reginald’s work. Nothing confirmed yet. I wanted you aware, in case it eventually touches closer to you than either of us would like."
Susan absorbed the information with visible, careful stillness, and Allen watched something calculating settle behind her composed expression — not suspicion directed at him, he realized after a moment, but genuine, focused concern turned inward, toward her own extensive knowledge of the family’s considerable, complicated web of associates.
"I’ve been turning over my own list of concerns since the tribunal," she admitted. "There are people in our circle I’ve never fully trusted, even before any of this began. I assumed my own instincts were simply old habits from decades of careful, calculated maneuvering. Perhaps they were pointing at something more concrete all along."
"Would you be willing to share that list with Farrow?" Allen asked. "It might help narrow things considerably faster than her own research alone."
"Of course," Susan said, without hesitation. "I should have offered before you even had to ask."
Allen studied her, recognizing genuine, considerable effort behind the offer rather than any calculated performance, and felt a small, cautious measure of the trust Myria had counseled patience toward settle a little more firmly into place.
"Thank you," he said.
"Don’t thank me yet," Susan said, something wry entering her tone. "I haven’t actually helped you find anything. I’ve simply offered to try."
"That still counts," Allen said. "More than you probably realize."
---
They spent the remainder of the visit in considerably lighter conversation, Susan inquiring after the schoolhouse’s continued success, the vocational center’s growing enrollment, small, genuine pieces of Hegeville’s ongoing life that carried none of the investigation’s mounting, considerable weight, and Allen found himself, watching her engage with genuine warmth rather than calculated interest, cautiously hopeful about exactly how far this fragile reconciliation might eventually travel.
"I should get back," Susan said eventually, rising to leave. "But I meant what I said. Send Farrow my list. If any of it helps, I’ll consider it a small measure of repayment for everything I failed to properly notice when it actually mattered."
"I will," Allen said, walking her toward the entrance.
She paused at the doorway, studying him a moment longer with an expression that carried something almost wistful. "You’ve built something genuinely remarkable here," she said. "I don’t think I ever properly told you that."
"You’re telling me now," Allen said gently.
"I am," Susan agreed, and departed with a small, genuine smile that lingered with Allen long after her transport had disappeared down Hegeville’s quiet, considerable road, one more small, hopeful thread woven carefully into a family history that had, for so long, offered him considerably less warmth than this.
He found Myria waiting inside, having listened to the tail end of the exchange, and relayed Susan’s offer with quiet, genuine hope.
"That’s worth pursuing," Myria said, already reaching for her tablet to forward the information to Farrow. "If nothing else, it proves her own considerable effort is genuine. That matters, regardless of whatever her list eventually turns up."
"It does," Allen agreed.
---
Farrow called two days later, her own tone carrying cautious, considered interest rather than any immediate breakthrough. "Susan’s list is useful," she confirmed. "Several names I hadn’t yet flagged on my own. Nothing conclusive, but it’s given my team considerably more surface area to work with."
"Anyone stand out immediately?" Allen asked.
"One name, tentatively," Farrow admitted. "I don’t want to say more until I’ve verified it properly. I’d rather not put a name in your head that turns out to mean nothing."
"Fair," Allen said, though the caution did little to ease his own mounting curiosity.
"Give me another week," Farrow said. "I think we’re closer than we’ve been since the safehouse."
Allen let the promise settle, cautious hope mingling with the familiar, patient unease that had defined so much of the past months, and relayed the update to Myria once the call concluded.
"A week," Myria said, turning the timeline over. "We’ve waited longer for less."
"We have," Allen agreed. "I keep wondering, though, if we’re actually prepared for whatever that name turns out to be. Susan handed over her own list without hesitation. I don’t know if I’d manage that kind of openness half as well, if the situation were reversed."
"You already have," Myria said gently. "Every time you’ve chosen to trust one of us with something painful instead of carrying it alone. That’s the same openness, just pointed a different direction."
Allen considered that, some of his earlier unease easing beneath her steady reassurance. "I hadn’t thought of it that way."
"You rarely give yourself enough credit," Myria said, drawing him close. "I’ve made something of a habit out of noticing when you don’t."
They sat together a while longer as the evening deepened, the week’s promised answer still waiting patiently ahead, and Allen let himself, for now, simply rest in the quiet comfort of being properly, thoroughly known by someone who never let his own blind spots go unnoticed for long.
Vivian and Irene found them there some time later, drawn by the quiet, and the four of them settled comfortably together as the last of the daylight faded, no particular agenda beyond simply being present with one another, gathering strength for whatever the coming week’s promised answer might finally reveal.
"Whatever it turns out to be," Irene said eventually, "we handle it exactly like we handle everything else."
"Together," Vivian agreed, and the family let the evening’s quiet, considerable peace carry them gently toward rest.