Chương 10
Mara opened the door. Cold air moved into the foyer despite the bright sun. The driver began carrying out the suitcases.
Celia put on her coat. Before leaving, she looked at Graham.
“I did not want your money.”
“I know.”
Mara’s eyes lifted.
Celia gave a tired, humorless smile. “You don’t, actually.”
“I know the trust would not have given you control.”
“I asked Mara because I was afraid you would think I got pregnant to secure something for myself. Then the baby died, and I became afraid there would be nothing tying me to this family at all. Both fears can exist.”
Graham looked at Mara.
“She did ask about control,” Mara said slowly. “I told her there wouldn’t be any.”
“You never told me that part,” Graham said.
“You never asked.”
Mara’s face reddened. “I thought the question sounded bad. I remembered it in the worst possible way after yesterday.”
Celia fastened her coat. “Everyone has been editing me to fit what they need.”
“That does not erase what you did,” Graham said.
“I know.”
She looked up at the white dome camera.
“Keep your recording,” she said. “It may be the only version of me you trust.”
Then she walked out.
For several days, the estate filled with flowers meant for a wedding that would not happen.
The florist could redirect some arrangements to other events, but hundreds of white roses had already been ordered. Graham donated most to hospitals and nursing homes. The remaining boxes arrived by mistake on Thursday morning. Mrs. Donnelly placed the flowers in buckets in the laundry room until someone could collect them.
Their scent spread through the ground floor.
Eli began to hate roses.
Graham’s mother came from Beacon Hill after receiving his explanation. She arrived wearing black, as if attending a funeral, and demanded to see the security video.
“No,” Graham said.
“She deceived this entire family.”
“The recording concerns Eli.”
“He is my grandson.”
“That does not give you ownership of what happened to him.”
Grandmother Vale looked at Eli, who sat at the breakfast table doing math homework. “Did she expose herself?”
“No,” he said.
Graham’s face tightened. “Mother.”
“What? I am trying to understand.”
“The insert fell,” Eli said. “Her body didn’t show.”
“And you pulled it?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because she was lying.”
“You could have embarrassed her terribly.”
“I did.”
Grandmother Vale removed her gloves finger by finger. “Your mother would never have behaved that way.”
The sentence landed harder than she seemed to intend.
Graham stood. “Do not use Anna to punish him.”
“I am not punishing anyone.”
“You have been doing it to all of us for three years.”
She stared at her son.
Eli kept his eyes on the worksheet. The numbers blurred.
Graham lowered his voice. “You compared Celia to Anna every time you entered this house. Then, when she became pregnant, you accepted her because she was giving you another grandchild. You do not get to pretend you played no role in making that pregnancy feel like an entrance examination.”
Grandmother Vale’s expression hardened. “Are you blaming me for fraud?”
“No. I am describing the room in which it occurred.”
“She is a grown woman.”
“Yes.”
“And she lied.”
“Yes.”
“And Eli pulled at her clothing.”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps everyone behaved badly.”
Eli pressed his pencil hard enough to break the tip.
His grandmother looked at him. Something in her face softened, but she did not apologize.
“May I see the nursery?” she asked.
Graham said no.
After she left, he found Eli in the laundry room among the buckets of roses. Eli sat on the tile floor, repairing the model sailboat with glue from a kitchen drawer.
“You should open a window,” Graham said. “The smell is strong.”
“I like it.”
“You said you hated it.”
“I changed my mind.”
Graham leaned against the doorframe. “Your grandmother should not have brought up your mother.”
“She was right.”
“No.”
“Mom wouldn’t have pulled the tab.”
“Your mother once threw a bowl of pasta at me.”
“Why?”
“I told her she was being irrational.”
“Was she?”
“Probably.”
“Did it hit you?”
“The wall.”
“What kind of pasta?”
“Penne.”
“That’s easier to clean.”
“It had tomato sauce.”
Eli pressed the mast into place. “Did you punish her?”
“She was thirty-two.”
“You said everyone gets consequences.”
“Her consequence was cleaning the wall.”
“Did you help?”
“No.”
“That was mean.”
“I was angry.”
“Did you forgive her?”
“Eventually.”
“Did you trust her?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s different.”
Graham entered the room and sat on an overturned bucket. He looked absurd there, knees raised, surrounded by roses.
“I met with Celia this morning,” he said.
“Why?”
“To settle practical matters.”
“Like money?”
“Yes. Wedding costs. Her belongings. The apartment she gave up when she moved here.”
“Are you buying her a new one?”
“No.”
“Is she poor?”
“No.”
“Is she rich?”
“Not in the way your family uses that word.”
“Our family.”
Graham looked at him. “Yes. Our family.”
Eli turned the boat in his hands.
“Celia has a job,” Graham said. “She has savings. She is staying with a friend. She will be all right.”
“Is she going back to the museum?”
“She resigned.”
“Because of us?”
“Because she does not want questions about the wedding.”
“Will people know?”
“Some will.”
“Are you telling them?”
“I told the museum board chair only that the engagement ended after a private breach of trust.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he knows nothing useful and will probably imagine something worse.”
“Like what?”
“I am not giving you examples.”
Eli blew gently on the glue.
“Celia asked me to give you something,” Graham said.
“What?”
“A letter.”
“I don’t want it.”
“All right.”
“Where is it?”
“In my desk.”
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It is addressed to you.”
“What if it lies?”
“Then you can stop reading.”
May you like
Eli adjusted the mast until it stood straight.
“Did you tell her you still love her?” he asked.
