Chương 6
Eli ate a spoonful of ice cream.
“Are you going to punish me?”
“Yes.”
“For telling the truth?”
“For touching the tab.”
“What’s the punishment?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“That means you don’t know.”
Graham gave him a tired look. “Apparently that is tonight’s theme.”
He stood, then paused at the doorway.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Did the camera show everything?”
“It showed what happened in the foyer.”
“That isn’t everything.”
“No,” Graham said. “It isn’t.”
The next morning, Graham canceled the wedding.
He did not call it canceled in his first messages. He wrote postponed due to a private family emergency, which allowed the hotel, caterer, florist, musicians, photographer, and rental company to begin discussing contractual terms without giving them a story to repeat. By noon, his mother had called six times. His business partner called twice. The museum’s board chair sent a text asking whether Celia was ill.
Graham answered none of them.
He sat at the breakfast table with his laptop, reviewing cancellation clauses. Forty thousand dollars in deposits had already become nonrefundable. The flower order could be reduced but not eliminated. Two hundred engraved menu cards had no use. Eight relatives had purchased international flights.
Ordinarily, these losses would have angered him. Instead they felt like numbers printed on a page found in someone else’s house.
Mara stood at the kitchen counter making toast. She burned the first two pieces because she was reading a message from Celia.
“She wants to come back for the rest of her things,” Mara said.
“Not today.”
“She says she needs medication.”
“I’ll have it delivered.”
“She does not want Mrs. Donnelly touching her belongings.”
“Mrs. Donnelly will not touch anything.”
“Then who will pack it?”
“She can come when Eli is at school.”
Eli sat at the island in his uniform sweater, pushing cereal around his bowl.
“I’m not going to school,” he said.
Graham did not look up from the laptop. “You are.”
“Everyone will know.”
“No one knows.”
“People always know.”
“The wedding announcement has not changed.”
“Liam’s mother follows the museum.”
“Celia has not posted anything.”
“She posts breakfast.”
“Not today.”
“That’s suspicious.”
Mara set down a plate of toast. “Most ten-year-olds are not monitoring adults’ posting patterns.”
“Most adults lie badly.”
Graham shut the laptop.
“Enough.”
Eli looked at him.
“You are going to school. You will not discuss Celia’s medical information, the miscarriage, the insert, or the security footage with anyone.”
“Why?”
“Because it is private.”
“She said I planned it.”
“To us.”
“What if she tells people?”
“She has not.”
“What if she does?”
“Then I will handle it.”
“You didn’t handle it before.”
Mara turned away from the counter.
Graham’s face hardened, but he did not answer immediately. “That is fair,” he said. “I am handling it now.”
Eli looked into his cereal. The flakes had gone soft.
At school, no one knew.
That disappointed him in a way he did not want to examine. He had lived through the most shocking event of his life, and the boys in his class were arguing about whether a professional basketball player had faked an injury. His science teacher reminded everyone to bring cardboard for their bridge models. Someone had drawn a mustache on a portrait of Benjamin Franklin in the history room.
Liam asked whether Eli’s new baby sister would have red hair.
“No,” Eli said.
“How do you know?”
“She won’t.”
“Your dad has dark hair.”
“There isn’t a baby.”
Liam stopped walking.
Eli heard his father’s instruction in his head.
Private.
He adjusted the strap of his backpack. “They got the test wrong.”
“What test?”
“I don’t know.”
Liam stared, waiting for more.
Eli went into the classroom.
By lunch, he regretted saying anything. By the end of the day, he had imagined Liam telling his mother, his mother calling another mother, and the story spreading through Boston until strangers stood outside the estate asking about the yellow dress.
Nothing happened.
The silence was almost as difficult as exposure.
When Graham picked him up, he was on a call through the car speakers. He ended it as Eli climbed in.
“Who was that?”
“The wedding planner.”
“Did you tell her?”
“I told her the wedding is postponed.”
“Not why?”
“No.”
Eli fastened his seat belt. “I told Liam there isn’t a baby.”
Graham’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I didn’t say about the fake stomach,” Eli added. “I said the test was wrong.”
“Why did you say anything?”
“He asked about her hair.”
“You could have said you didn’t know.”
“That would be lying.”
“No. It would be declining to discuss something private.”
“That’s adult lying.”
Graham pulled away from the curb. “There are facts you do not own simply because they happened near you.”
“It happened to me.”
“Part of it did.”
“All of it did.”
“The miscarriage happened to Celia.”
“The lying happened to me.”
Graham drove half a block before answering. “Yes.”
Eli watched brick houses pass outside. A woman pushed a stroller along the sidewalk. The baby inside wore a blue hat with small ears.
“Is Celia coming back?”
“She is collecting her belongings tomorrow while you’re at school.”
“Are you going to be there?”
“Yes.”
“Is Aunt Mara?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep the conversation calm.”
“Because you won’t?”
“Because none of us has been especially good at calm.”
At a red light, Graham glanced at him. “I spoke with Dr. Patel today.”
“Who?”
“Celia’s obstetrician. Celia gave written permission.”
“What did she say?”
“That Celia’s records are authentic. She was pregnant. The loss occurred when she said it did.”
“Did the doctor know she was pretending?”
“No.”
“Did she ask why?”
“That was not the purpose of the call.”
“What was?”
“To verify that we were dealing with deception after a real medical loss, not a fabricated pregnancy from the beginning.”
Eli considered this. “Is that better?”
“I don’t know.”
“There it is again.”
May you like
Graham almost smiled, but the expression failed before it formed.
At home, the nursery door was closed.
