Chương 2
"Claire."
"Rebecca."
He knew the name.
Of course he knew it.
Rebecca Bennett Walsh, Claire's older sister. A speech therapist in Connecticut. Married to a public-school principal. Christmas cards appeared sometimes on mutual friends' mantels, the kind printed on thick paper with children posed in sweaters. Adrian had never studied them.
He searched his memory and found nothing useful.
"Rebecca has four sons?"
Claire nodded.
"Had."
The room changed again.
Adrian looked at the boys.
Theo's hand lowered.
"She died," he said.
Adrian's anger stalled long enough for shame to enter.
"I'm sorry."
Jack rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist.
"Everybody says that."
Miles gave him a quick elbow.
"What? They do."
No one corrected him.
Adrian looked at Claire.
"When?"
"Eleven days ago."
"And you brought them here."
"Yes."
"To a gala."
"I didn't bring them to the gala."
"They are standing in my bathroom in suits."
"They were supposed to be in the family sitting room with Nina."
"Nina who?"
"Rebecca's neighbor. She came down with us. One of the boys felt sick, so she brought them upstairs where it was quiet. I was going to tell you before—"
"Before what?"
Claire stopped.
"Before my father left?"
She did not answer.
Adrian turned toward the boys.
"Where is Nina?"
"Getting Owen's medicine," Theo said.
Owen looked annoyed.
"I don't need it."
"You said your chest felt tight."
"It stopped."
"Because you sat down."
Adrian looked at Claire again.
"What medicine?"
"Albuterol. Mild asthma. Mostly exercise-triggered."
He knew nothing.
That landed differently from the DNA pages.
One of his sons had asthma.
He had not known the boy existed.
He had not known the boy breathed differently.
The absurdity of discovering fatherhood through a percentage had protected him for perhaps forty seconds. Then Owen's inhaler made it real.
Adrian sat on the edge of the marble tub.
His phone vibrated.
Martin.
ADRIAN: YOUR FATHER IS STILL IN THE BALLROOM. DRIVER HAS BEEN TOLD VEHICLE IS UNAVAILABLE DUE TO SECURITY ISSUE. DO YOU WANT POLICE CONTACTED?
Adrian typed no.
Then deleted it.
He typed: HOLD.
His hands were steady.
That frightened him.
Claire stepped inside and shut the bathroom door.
Adrian looked at her.
"Open it."
"People are in the hallway."
"Open it."
She did.
The hallway beyond was empty.
Adrian said, "You don't get to close doors right now."
A flush moved over Claire's throat.
The four boys watched both of them.
Adrian hated that they were watching.
He lowered his voice.
"How much do they know?"
Claire answered carefully. "That you are their biological father."
"How long?"
"Since Rebecca got sick."
"You said she died suddenly."
"I said she died eleven days ago."
He stared at her.
Claire's breathing changed.
"She'd been having headaches. She didn't tell us how bad they were. She collapsed at school. There was bleeding in her brain. Surgery, then complications."
Adrian glanced at the boys.
Theo was looking at the floor.
Claire stopped.
That was better than finishing the medical explanation in front of them.
Adrian asked, "Where's Daniel?"
"Three years ago. Car accident."
He looked away.
Four boys had lost both parents before they were seven.
And he was standing ten feet away wanting to ask whether they had ever seen a photograph of him.
The door opened wider.
A woman in her late forties appeared carrying a small blue inhaler and a boy's folded jacket.
She stopped when she saw Adrian.
"Well," she said.
Nina, apparently.
Claire said, "It's done."
Nina looked at the torn envelope.
"No. That's the beginning."
Adrian almost asked who she thought she was.
Instead, he noticed that Jack had started twisting the plastic hospital band around two fingers.
"Are those originals?"
Nina nodded. "Rebecca kept them."
"Why do they have my name?"
Claire said, "Because you were listed on the clinic paperwork as the intended father before everything happened."
Adrian turned to her.
"Everything."
Claire flinched.
He did not feel guilty about that.
Not yet.
His phone buzzed again.
This time it was his chief of staff.
YOU'RE ON IN 9. WHERE ARE YOU?
Adrian stared at the screen.
Two floors below, donors in black tie were eating sea bass under chandeliers. A children's hospital president had flown in from Chicago. A senator was seated beside Adrian's father. There were cameras, reporters, trustees, executives, and three people whose donations depended less on sick children than on being photographed caring about sick children.
He typed:
Cancel my speech. Family emergency. End the event early.
His chief of staff responded with three dots, then:
How early?
Now.
Adrian stood.
"The boys aren't staying in this bathroom."
Claire said, "We can take them back to the sitting room."
"No."
Her shoulders tightened.
"Then where?"
Adrian did not know.
The question embarrassed him.
His house had fourteen bedrooms. He could not think of a single place to put four children.
Theo rescued him.
"Do you have grilled cheese?"
Adrian stared at him.
Jack said, "He always asks that when things are bad."
"I like grilled cheese."
"You ask even when you don't want it."
"I do want it."
Miles looked at Adrian. "He does."
For the first time since opening the door, Adrian felt the corner of his mouth move.
Not quite a smile.
"I have a kitchen."
Theo considered this.
"Most houses do."
Nina covered a laugh with a cough.
Claire did not.
Adrian led them downstairs by the back staircase.
The mansion was old enough to have been designed for people who did not want guests to see how food, linens, luggage, children, mistakes, and servants moved through large houses. The rear corridor bypassed the ballroom and opened near the family kitchen.
Adrian normally hated it during events because caterers occupied every surface.
Tonight it was nearly empty. The main catering team was working from the service wing.
A young cook looked up when Adrian walked in with four identical boys.
Her expression was so honest that he almost appreciated it.
May you like
"Mr. Cole."
"Can you make grilled cheese?"
