Chương 3
Rosa nodded.
“Do you want Mrs. Bennett to leave?”
Margaret turned toward Claire.
The full weight of her attention arrived.
Claire felt the old instinct immediately: soften, qualify, prevent embarrassment.
Margaret had paid for the suite.
Margaret had arranged the postpartum care package.
Margaret had sent food to Claire’s mother in Ohio when Claire’s mother broke her wrist.
Margaret remembered birthdays.
Margaret sent handwritten thank-you cards.
Margaret had also forged her signature.
“Yes,” Claire said.
Margaret went pale.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that the foundation along her cheek looked suddenly too warm.
“You want me removed?”
“I want you to leave.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
Margaret looked at Ethan.
He said nothing.
For the first time since Claire had known them, a Bennett silence worked against Margaret.
She picked up her handbag.
“You are making decisions while exhausted and emotional.”
Rosa straightened.
Claire tightened the blanket near her daughter’s shoulder.
“Maybe.”
Margaret paused.
Claire looked directly at her.
“But this one’s mine.”
Margaret left.
She did not slam the door.
Of course she did not.
The latch clicked softly behind her.
Claire stared at it.
Her body began shaking about ten seconds later.
Rosa took the baby only after Claire asked her to.
That mattered.
Claire would remember it.
She would remember Rosa saying, “I have her,” before lifting the baby. She would remember Ethan moving forward and then stopping himself. She would remember the baby stretching one tiny fist above the blanket as though waking from a completely unrelated dream.
Claire bent over, elbows on her knees.
She pressed her palms against her face.
She did not cry at first.
“I need to know if she can actually do this.”
Rosa answered, “I can get our social worker and patient advocate.”
“I need a lawyer.”
Ethan said, “I called one this morning.”
Claire uncovered her face.
Of course he had.
She looked at him.
“When?”
“Seven fifteen.”
“You’ve had a lawyer since seven fifteen.”
“I called a lawyer at seven fifteen.”
“And you brought flowers at—what is it, ten?”
“Ten twenty.”
“Great.”
He looked at the bouquet as if he had never seen it before.
“Yeah.”
Claire stood too quickly.
Pain pulled through her abdomen and she sat again.
Rosa handed the baby back carefully.
“Slow.”
“I’m fine.”
Rosa gave her a look.
Claire sighed. “I’m not fine.”
“No.”
“I hate when nurses agree with me.”
“That’s why we do it.”
A surprising laugh escaped Claire.
It hurt.
She pressed her side.
Rosa smiled briefly and then became serious again. “I’m going to make some calls. Nobody releases you until you say you’re ready and we know what’s happening.”
When she left, Claire and Ethan were alone.
There were perhaps a hundred things Claire wanted to ask him.
The first one surprised her.
“Why roses?”
He looked toward the console.
“What?”
“The flowers.”
“I don’t know.”
“You always buy tulips.”
“The shop downstairs didn’t have tulips.”
She nodded.
He watched her.
“This is a terrible conversation.”
“I’m buying time.”
“I know.”
“At least you know something.”
He lowered his head.
Claire immediately regretted the cruelty.
Then resented the regret.
She looked down at their daughter.
They had named her June because they both liked names that sounded simple when whispered. She had arrived in August, which Claire’s sister thought was funny for reasons she could never explain without making it less funny.
June yawned.
Ethan watched.
His face changed in the way it always did around the baby. Everything softened except his eyes.
Claire hated him a little for that too.
“Show me the recording.”
He unlocked the phone.
His thumb hovered.
“Claire, before you see it—”
“No.”
He stopped.
She held out her free hand.
“Give me the phone.”
He did.
The video was twenty-three minutes long.
Claire pressed play.
At first she saw only the suite from the angle of the marble console. The phone had apparently been propped against the base of the lamp.
The time stamp was 11:43 p.m.
Claire remembered that hour.
She had been asleep in the bedroom after feeding June.
Ethan had supposedly gone downstairs to get ice and coffee.
In the recording, Margaret entered the frame carrying a folder.
She placed it on the marble.
She took several papers out.
For nearly forty seconds, nothing happened.
Then she removed another sheet from her handbag.
Claire leaned closer.
It was a photocopy.
Her signature appeared repeatedly across it.
Old forms.
A holiday card.
A check.
Her signature from the contract for the postpartum suite.
Margaret practiced once.
Twice.
Three times.
She muttered something.
Claire increased the volume.
“Too round.”
A pen scratched.
Margaret tried again.
Then, quietly:
“That’s close enough.”
Claire stopped the video.
She held the phone so tightly her fingers hurt.
Ethan crouched a few feet away.
“How did you know?”
He sat back on his heels.
“My mother asked me yesterday if your signature had changed since pregnancy.”
Claire stared at him.
“She what?”
“She made it sound casual.”
“And you thought that was normal?”
“No.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“You do know.”
“I know.”
“She’s seen my signature a thousand times.”
“I know.”
Claire handed the phone back.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“No explanation?”
“I have one.”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s not good enough.”
That stopped her.
Ethan looked exhausted now too.
Not new-mother exhausted. Nothing like that.
But older somehow.
“I thought if I accused her without proof, she’d back off and destroy whatever she was doing. I wanted proof.”
“So you used me as bait.”
“No.”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
“I didn’t know she had already filed anything.”
“But you knew she was doing something.”
“Yes.”
“And you left me asleep ten feet away while she forged my name.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
Claire looked out at the storm.
A white line of foam appeared against the dark ocean and vanished.
“I hate that answer.”
“So do I.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Okay.”
May you like
“Don’t agree with everything either.”
He almost smiled.
