Chapter 3 - Aunt Celeste
Rescue reached them shortly before dusk.
Firefighters approached through the south trail on foot because the main driveway remained blocked. Malcolm carried Nia out of the bunker while Tasha held Jordan’s hand.
Outside, the damage looked worse than the camera had shown.
The rear third of the house was crushed beneath rock and mud.
The deck had disappeared.
Two enormous boulders rested where Malcolm’s workshop had stood.
Trees lay twisted across the slope.
But the bunker entrance remained intact.
Malcolm looked back at it.
His father had saved them.
Six years after his death.
A firefighter guided them toward an ATV trail.
“Don’t stop near the house,” she said. “The county geologist hasn’t cleared the slope.”
Malcolm nodded.
Nia kept her face pressed against his shoulder.
They were taken to a small community center serving as an emergency shelter.
Within an hour, photographs of the landslide had reached local television.
By eight that evening, Celeste arrived.
She entered the shelter wearing a cream raincoat and carrying four shopping bags.
“Oh, thank God.”
She rushed toward Nia first.
Nia allowed herself to be hugged.
Jordan remained beside Malcolm.
Celeste kissed Tasha’s cheek.
Then she turned toward Malcolm.
His expression stopped her.
“What?” she asked.
“You tell me.”
Celeste glanced around.
“Not here.”
Malcolm almost smiled.
“That phrase is becoming popular today.”
Tasha quietly took the children toward the cafeteria.
Celeste watched them leave.
Then her shoulders dropped.
“Malcolm, I can explain.”
“Did you give Summit Crown permission to enter my property?”
“Not your property.”
“What?”
“The upper eastern parcel.”
“That is part of the family tract.”
“It’s held in the Isaiah Brooks Legacy Trust.”
“You told me that trust transferred everything after Dad died.”
“Most things.”
Malcolm stared at her.
Celeste sat.
For the first time, she looked older than sixty-one.
“Your father structured the land strangely. The house parcel went directly to you. The eastern ridge remained in trust because of old mineral-rights questions.”
“You were trustee.”
“Co-trustee.”
“With who?”
“You.”
Malcolm blinked.
“I never signed anything.”
“You didn’t need to for routine land management.”
“Blasting is routine?”
“I did not authorize blasting.”
“Then what did you authorize?”
“A survey.”
“For Summit Crown.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Celeste rubbed her hands together.
“They approached the trust about an access easement.”
“How much?”
She looked up.
“Malcolm.”
“How much money?”
“Fifty thousand for exploration rights.”
His laugh contained no humor.
“You let strangers onto the ridge for fifty thousand dollars.”
“The trust owed taxes.”
“I would have paid them.”
“With what?”
The question landed between them.
Celeste immediately looked ashamed.
Malcolm stepped closer.
“My finances are none of your business.”
“They became my business when your father named me trustee.”
“He named you to protect the property.”
“I was protecting it.”
“By selling access?”
“By preventing a tax lien.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“You should have called me.”
“And you would have said no.”
He stared at her.
Those were almost exactly Tasha’s words.
Celeste saw something shift in his face.
“This family has spent years being afraid to tell you anything about that mountain.”
“Don’t turn this around.”
“I’m not.”
“You signed the papers.”
“For survey access.”
“And yesterday my son saw blasting equipment.”
Celeste’s face changed.
“What?”
Malcolm pulled out Jordan’s phone.
He showed her the video.
Celeste watched twice.
Then a third time.
“I didn’t authorize that.”
“Did they tell you they might drill?”
“Core samples.”
“That is not a core-sampling setup.”
“How do you know?”
“I worked civil projects for fifteen years.”
Celeste covered her mouth.
“Oh, Lord.”
Malcolm did not comfort her.
“When were they up there?”
“They said Tuesday through Thursday.”
“Today is Thursday.”
Celeste looked toward the cafeteria where the children were eating sandwiches.
“No.”
“What?”
“They called me this morning.”
“Who?”
“Leon Price. Summit Crown’s president.”
“What did he say?”
“He said field testing was complete.”
Malcolm felt his pulse in his jaw.
“What time?”
“A little after eleven.”
The landslide began at 2:17 p.m.
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
“Think.”
Celeste closed her eyes.
“He asked whether anyone was staying at the house.”
Malcolm froze.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said of course. You live there.”
“And?”
Celeste’s eyes opened.
“He went quiet.”
Tasha had returned without Malcolm noticing.
She stood six feet away.
“What exactly did he say after you told him?” she asked.
Celeste swallowed.
“He said, ‘I thought Malcolm was still working in Charlotte during the week.’”
Malcolm had stopped commuting months ago.
“How would he know I ever worked there?”
Celeste looked helpless.
“I don’t know.”
Tasha stepped closer.
“You said he approached the trust. How?”
“Through an attorney.”
“What attorney?”
“Patrick Sloan.”
Malcolm recognized the name.
So did Tasha.
Patrick Sloan had handled Isaiah’s estate.
Malcolm sat slowly.
“No.”
Celeste whispered, “Malcolm…”
“My father’s lawyer connected Summit Crown to you?”
“He said it was legitimate.”
“Did Sloan know the slope had problems?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Dad?”
Celeste said nothing.
Malcolm watched her face.
That silence gave him his answer.
“My father knew.”
“Not like this.”
“Knew what?”
Celeste stood.
“Isaiah had a report done years ago.”
Malcolm felt the floor disappear beneath him.
“What report?”
“A geological stability report.”
“When?”
“2019.”
“Why?”
Celeste looked toward the dark windows of the shelter.
“Because your father believed somebody had been cutting into the upper ridge.”
“Who?”
“He never proved it.”
“Celeste.”
Her eyes filled.
“He thought Summit Crown’s predecessor company was trying to reach the old logging road.”
Malcolm stared at her.
“You knew all of this.”
“I knew pieces.”
“And said nothing.”
“Your father made me promise.”
“Why?”
“Because the report said something else.”
Malcolm waited.
Celeste’s voice dropped.
“The eastern ridge wasn’t the valuable part of the property.”
“What was?”
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She looked directly at him.
“The land underneath it.”
