Chương 2
Eleanor stared at the phone.
Her arms uncrossed.
Her mouth opened, then closed.
Nathan walked around the island and stopped beside Rachel.
The movement was unhurried.
That was what made it final.
He placed himself between his mother and his wife.
“You won’t be taking my daughter,” he said. “You won’t even be staying in my house.”
For the first time since Rachel had known her, Eleanor Morgan looked as if she had entered a room without knowing what the room expected from her.
The moment should have felt like victory.
Rachel felt no victory at all.
Only Sophie’s weight.
Nathan’s shoulder beside hers.
And the terrible realization that Eleanor had said Nathan had already decided because, somewhere in Eleanor’s mind, there was a reason she believed Rachel might believe it.
Eleanor recovered before anyone else.
She bent, picked up the white gift bag Nathan had dropped beside the door, and placed it carefully on the counter.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
Nathan watched her.
“Get your things.”
“Nathan, I am your mother.”
“I’m aware.”
“This is your birthday.”
“I’m aware of that too.”
“You invited me to stay here.”
“And now I’m asking you to leave.”
A faint cry escaped Sophie.
Rachel turned away from the argument and pressed her cheek to the baby’s hair.
Sophie smelled like the unscented soap Rachel had started ordering after a newborn rash. Her little body was tense for a few seconds, then softened against Rachel as Rachel began the slow side-to-side movement that usually calmed her.
Eleanor looked at them.
Something passed across her face.
Not tenderness.
Not quite.
Possession, Rachel thought, and hated herself for thinking it because the word sounded too dramatic, like something from a courtroom show.
Eleanor’s attention moved back to Nathan.
“Before you throw me into the street,” she said, “you might ask Rachel what happened Tuesday.”
Rachel stopped moving.
Nathan looked at her.
Eleanor saw it.
That tiny hesitation.
She took it and used it.
“At the pediatrician’s office,” she added.
“Stop,” Rachel said.
Nathan’s eyes remained on her.
“What happened Tuesday?”
“Not now.”
Eleanor gave a short laugh with no humor in it.
“Exactly.”
Nathan turned toward her.
“I said get your things.”
“And I’m telling you that your wife is hiding things from you.”
Rachel’s heart began beating hard enough that she could feel it beneath Sophie’s warm body.
Nathan stepped forward.
“Upstairs. Pack. I’ll call a car.”
“My car is here.”
“Then drive.”
“You want me driving after two glasses of wine?”
Nathan took out his phone again.
“I’ll call someone.”
Eleanor looked around the room.
For the first time she seemed to become aware of the guests as people rather than witnesses she controlled.
Susan Morgan was staring at her plate.
Mark’s hands were folded between his knees.
Nathan’s colleague, Jess, had moved toward the edge of the dining room as if she had been deciding whether leaving would be more embarrassing than staying.
Eleanor straightened.
“Well,” she said. “Apparently the evening is over.”
Nobody answered.
She walked toward the staircase.
Nathan waited until her footsteps disappeared above them.
Then he turned to Rachel.
“What happened Tuesday?”
Rachel looked at him.
“Not in front of everybody.”
His face softened immediately, shame replacing the authority he had used with his mother.
“Right. Sorry.”
That apology almost made Rachel cry.
Instead she said, “Can somebody get the bottle?”
Mark reacted too quickly.
“Yeah. Yes.”
He dropped to one knee beside the table.
It was such an ordinary thing—Nathan’s thirty-six-year-old cousin crawling beneath mahogany furniture to retrieve a bottle while everyone pretended not to watch Rachel—that something in her chest loosened.
Mark emerged holding the bottle by its base.
“Cap’s still on.”
“Thanks.”
He set it on the island and returned to his chair.
Nobody knew what to do next.
Nathan blew out the birthday candles.
The smoke rose between them.
“Cake later,” he said.
His voice cracked slightly on the second word.
That was the only sign he gave.
The guests began leaving in awkward groups.
They hugged Nathan. Some hugged Rachel. Others did not, perhaps correctly understanding that she could not bear one more person touching her.
Susan lingered.
She was Eleanor’s sister-in-law and had spent most of the evening discussing a kitchen remodel no one cared about.
At the front door she touched Rachel lightly above the elbow.
“I didn’t know.”
Rachel almost asked what she meant.
Instead she said, “Okay.”
Susan glanced toward the staircase.
Then toward Nathan.
“You two take care.”
It was the sort of sentence people said when they had nothing useful.
Tonight, Rachel appreciated it.
No promise.
No declaration of sides.
No advice about mothers or marriages or babies.
Just take care.
Eleanor came downstairs fifteen minutes later wearing a camel coat over her evening gown. Her overnight case rolled behind her.
Nathan had called a car.
She saw it through the glass.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I did.”
Eleanor set one hand on the suitcase handle.
Her gaze went to Rachel.
Rachel held Sophie at the bottom of the stairs.
The baby had stopped fussing and was chewing uselessly at the collar of Rachel’s dress.
Eleanor said, “I hope you understand that what happened tonight does not change what I know.”
Rachel had been afraid of Eleanor for months.
Not physically.
Eleanor was not a violent woman in the ordinary sense. She did not slap people or throw glasses or slam doors.
She altered rooms.
She could make a person feel unreasonable for needing something.
She could say, We’re all worried about you, and leave Rachel wondering who all included.
She could ask, Did you sleep at all last night? in front of guests, then smile when Rachel answered.
Rachel had spent so much energy trying not to seem defensive that she had become defenseless.
Now she looked at Eleanor.
“You dumped my daughter’s things on the floor and told me to leave her.”
May you like
Eleanor inhaled.
“I was trying to get through to you.”
