Chương 4
Ethan cleaned the floor.
Nora changed into one of his old college T-shirts and soft gray pants that no longer met comfortably beneath her stomach. She lowered herself onto the couch and watched him wrestle the hospital bracelet off his wrist with kitchen scissors.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
He looked down.
He had nicked his thumb.
“Perfect.”
She handed him a tissue.
For five minutes, they said nothing.
The house around them was ordinary in a way Margaret’s house never was. Their rental had narrow hallways, badly placed outlets, a pantry door that swelled in humidity, and a kitchen drawer Ethan kept promising to repair. They had moved there after deciding the three-bedroom condominium Margaret had “found for them” came with too many unspoken conditions.
Nora stared at the broken drawer.
“You still haven’t fixed that.”
Ethan laughed once.
“I knew you were saving it for the right moment.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“Tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Fix the drawer.”
He glanced at her.
“That’s your request?”
“No. My request is that for one day, you don’t solve your mother, the company, Denver, your sister, the internet, or civilization.”
“The internet?”
“My phone has been lighting up for twenty minutes.”
His face changed.
Nora picked up the phone from the coffee table.
“There’s a video.”
He stopped.
She turned the screen toward him.
It had been posted by an account neither of them recognized. The clip was eleven seconds long.
It began with Ethan standing beside Margaret’s table, face twisted with rage.
It did not show Nora falling.
It did not show Margaret touching her.
It did not show the women laughing.
It showed Ethan shouting something indistinct, putting both hands beneath the table, and flipping it while women screamed.
Then it cut off.
The caption identified him by name.
By the time Nora saw it, the video had been reposted dozens of times.
Ethan watched once.
Then again.
He handed the phone back.
“That’s bad.”
Nora looked at him.
“Yes.”
“No context at all.”
“Still you.”
He nodded.
“Still me.”
At seven the next morning, Ethan woke on the couch with Sampson breathing hotly against his shin.
Nora had gone upstairs sometime before dawn. He had stayed below because his body felt too charged to lie next to her without talking, and she had looked too tired to survive another conversation.
His phone showed forty-three missed notifications.
He made coffee.
The first pot overflowed because he forgot to put the carafe beneath the filter basket.
He watched dark coffee spread across the counter.
“Fantastic.”
Sampson wandered in, sniffed the puddle, and walked away.
Ethan cleaned it with a dish towel he would later discover was Nora’s favorite.
At 7:18, Leonard Park called.
Leonard had chaired the independent portion of Hale & Mercer’s board for six years and had the habit of sounding mildly disappointed even when discussing record profits.
“Tell me Nora is all right.”
“She is.”
“The baby?”
“So far, yes.”
“Good.”
Ethan waited.
Leonard sighed.
“I saw the video.”
“I assumed.”
“Your mother says you came into a private dinner, became physically aggressive, and destroyed property in front of guests.”
“I destroyed the table.”
“That would fall beneath property.”
“Yes.”
“She says Nora lost her balance.”
“She grabbed Nora’s wrist while Nora was trying to leave.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
Leonard paused.
“Did you see that?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Nora told me. Alice Moreland confirmed it.”
“Anyone else?”
“Elise was there.”
“Elise called me.”
Of course she had.
“What did she say?”
“That your mother reached for Nora, Nora pulled away, and then fell. She did not characterize it as an intentional assault.”
“Neither did I.”
“Margaret says you accused her of attacking Nora.”
“I asked what happened.”
“And then you overturned a table.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Ethan drank his coffee. It was terrible.
“Have you spoken to counsel?” Leonard asked.
“No.”
“Do not make public statements.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not post anything.”
“I haven’t posted anything since 2021.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m aware.”
“The executive committee will meet this afternoon.”
Ethan set down the mug.
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your name and the company’s name are attached to the video, and because three reporters have contacted communications.”
“We’re not a public company.”
“We employ nearly nine hundred people. We have lenders, municipal partners, investors, tenants, hotel operators, and employees who do not care that your family conflict happened in a private dining room.”
Ethan rubbed his face.
“What are you considering?”
“A temporary leave while we review.”
He stared through the kitchen window.
A delivery truck was backing into a driveway across the street. The driver had one arm hanging from the open window, turning carefully as the truck beeped.
“Did Mom ask for that?”
“I’m not discussing individual board conversations.”
“She did.”
“Ethan.”
“Fine.”
“I need a written account from you before two.”
“You’ll get it.”
“And do not contact anyone from the dinner asking them to support your version.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
Leonard was silent for a beat.
“Are you sleeping?”
“Not particularly.”
“Try.”
“That sounds medically solid.”
“Two o’clock.”
The call ended.
Nora came into the kitchen wearing socks and Ethan’s T-shirt.
She opened the refrigerator.
“You used the blue towel.”
He looked at the stained cloth on the counter.
“I’m sorry.”
“That was the good one.”
“I didn’t know we had class distinctions among towels.”
“We do now.”
She took out orange juice.
He watched her pour it.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I fell on stone.”
“The doctor said—”
“I remember what the doctor said.”
“Right.”
She drank half the glass.
“The board called.”
“I figured.”
He told her about the afternoon meeting.
Nora leaned against the counter.
“What are you going to say?”
“The truth.”
“Which truth?”
He looked at her.
“That sounds like something my mother would ask.”
“Your mother thinks truth is whatever survives the meeting. I’m asking because there are several true things.”
May you like
He folded his arms.
“She grabbed you. You fell. She mocked you. I lost my temper. I flipped the table.”
