Chương 10
He looked back.
“Then you pay for him.”
The screen door closed behind him.
Tyler stared after his father.
Eleanor sat down slowly.
Nobody spoke for almost a minute.
Then Daniel opened the sticking drawer.
It slid smoothly.
“Well,” he said. “At least one thing works.”
Eleanor laughed until it hurt.
Three days later, Madison watched the video with her grandmother.
They did it because Eleanor asked.
Anna had advised against repeatedly viewing it. The sheriff’s department had a copy. Madison had preserved the original. Nothing required Eleanor to see it again.
But memory had begun changing already.
In Eleanor’s mind, the lake was darker than it had been. Richard stood farther away. Daniel reached her faster. Her own voice sounded stronger.
She wanted to know what was real.
They sat at the kitchen island in the main house after Daniel changed the entry codes.
The dock remained visible through the windows.
Eleanor had not stepped onto it since the accident.
Madison placed the phone between them.
“You sure?”
“No.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“No. I am not sure.”
Madison waited.
Eleanor nodded.
The video began with Richard already speaking.
“—best view on the lake, and once the paperwork’s done, we’re finally going to redo the whole lower deck.”
His recorded voice sounded confident and cheerful.
Onscreen, Eleanor was partly visible near the chair.
“That is not what I said, Richard.”
Richard laughed.
“Mom’s still emotionally attached to 1998.”
Tyler laughed.
Connor said something indistinct.
The camera panned briefly toward the water.
Richard picked up the keys.
“Official handoff.”
Eleanor’s recorded voice sharpened.
“Put those down.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Richard.”
“Tell the camera you trust me.”
“I trust you to put down my keys.”
Madison paused the video.
“I forgot that.”
Eleanor said nothing.
They continued.
Richard lifted the keys.
Eleanor reached.
There was a movement, a startled curse, the bright metallic sound of keys striking wood.
The image jerked.
Someone shouted.
Water exploded into frame.
Then Eleanor was below the edge.
Richard leaned over.
For two seconds he was smiling.
Not nervously.
Not with confusion.
Smiling.
His shoe moved.
The first contact pressed against Eleanor’s fingers.
She cried, “Stop.”
Then came the second kick.
Hard.
Her hand vanished.
“LET GO, MOM — THIS DOCK IS MINE NOW!”
Behind him, people laughed.
Madison stopped the video.
Neither woman moved.
“I laughed,” she said.
Eleanor looked at her.
“I heard.”
“I hate myself in that video.”
“Don’t.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I need you to hate what you did for the correct amount of time.”
Madison frowned through tears.
“What does that mean?”
“It means shame is greedy. It takes more than it deserves.”
Madison wiped her face.
“I should’ve known.”
“You should have looked sooner.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No.”
Eleanor touched the phone.
“You corrected yourself.”
Madison’s voice broke.
“After he kicked you.”
“Yes.”
“That could’ve been too late.”
“Yes.”
Madison looked away.
Eleanor did not soften that either.
A few seconds passed.
Then Madison said, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Dad told me to film.”
“I know.”
“No. Before you came outside.”
Eleanor waited.
“He said he wanted footage of the property before the transfer.”
“So?”
“He said if you got difficult, keep recording.”
Eleanor went still.
Madison unlocked the phone and opened her messages.
There it was.
A text from Richard sent forty minutes before the dock incident.
Keep camera rolling if she gets sentimental. We may need to remind her later what she agreed to.
Eleanor read it twice.
“That is not proof of anything illegal,” Madison said quickly.
“I know.”
“But it’s weird.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think it was weird then.”
“No.”
“Grandma?”
“Yes?”
“Was he planning to pressure you?”
Eleanor looked through the windows at the lake.
“I think he was planning to make the afternoon feel finished before I had decided anything.”
Madison sat quietly.
“That sounds like him.”
“Yes.”
“And like Grandpa?”
Eleanor turned.
Madison flinched.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
Eleanor folded her hands.
“Your grandfather would push until people agreed to stop arguing. Your father learned that agreement and exhaustion can look similar.”
“Did Grandpa really want Dad to have the house?”
Eleanor stared at the dock.
“Sometimes.”
Madison waited.
“Six months before he died,” Eleanor said, “your grandfather and I had an argument about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Richard loved the place more than Caroline.”
“That’s probably true.”
“It is.”
“So why not leave it to him?”
“Because loving a place does not make you good at sharing it.”
Madison looked toward the living room, where framed photographs covered one wall.
James beside a fishing boat.
Richard at twelve holding a bass.
Caroline barefoot at seventeen.
Madison and Tyler as children wearing life jackets.
Eleanor in the middle of them all, often looking at someone else.
“What did Grandpa want at the end?” Madison asked.
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
“He wanted me not to be lonely.”
“That’s not about the house.”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
Eleanor looked down.
James had been thin by then.
The illness had reduced his voice before it reduced his opinions.
He had been lying in a hospital bed installed in their Chicago apartment, irritated by the machine beside him and furious that everyone kept lowering their voices.
Richard had visited that afternoon and spent twenty minutes talking about lake renovations.
After he left, James stared at the ceiling.
Don’t give him the house because he wants it louder than everybody else.
Eleanor had said, You spent thirty years telling him it would be his.
James closed his eyes.
I spent thirty years saying whatever ended the argument.
Then he had laughed weakly.
Bad habit.
Eleanor told Madison.
Not every word.
Enough.
Madison sat very still.
“Why didn’t you tell Dad?”
“Because his father was dying.”
“No, after.”
Eleanor looked at her granddaughter.
“Because I was tired.”
Madison nodded.
May you like
This time she seemed to understand what the word meant.
The investigation moved slowly, which Richard interpreted as proof that nothing serious had happened.
