Chương 7
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What conditions?”
“I wanted the money protected.”
“From what?”
She did not answer immediately.
“From impulsive decisions.”
I stood.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I was concerned about your state of mind.”
“You thought I was incompetent?”
“No.”
“You thought I couldn’t handle money?”
“I thought you were grieving.”
“So you sent it to Patricia.”
“Yes.”
My chest felt tight.
“And what did you tell her?”
“That the funds were for your benefit and Lily’s.”
“What else?”
Grandma’s voice became careful.
“I asked her not to tell you the full amount immediately.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
A smaller betrayal beside the larger one.
Still sharp enough to cut.
“Why?”
“Because I believed you might refuse it if you knew it came from me.”
“You could have asked me.”
“I should have.”
The answer came quickly.
It did not make me feel better.
“What did you demand in return?”
“She is exaggerating.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Grandma sighed.
“I wanted you to eventually speak with me.”
I laughed once.
“So the money had strings.”
“No.”
“Yes, it did.”
“I did not make your access contingent upon reconciliation.”
“You used Patricia to give me money secretly because you thought I wouldn’t accept it from you.”
“That is true.”
“And you expected her to help get me back into contact with you.”
“Yes.”
“So there were strings.”
“Emotional expectations are not legal conditions.”
I went completely still.
The sentence sounded like Richard.
Not Grandma.
“Did your lawyer tell you to say that?”
“No.”
“You’re doing it now.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to win.”
Her voice hardened.
“I am trying to be accurate.”
“I don’t need accurate.”
The words came louder than I intended.
Lily shifted in the crib.
I lowered my voice.
“I need one person in this family to tell me the truth before I drag it out of them.”
Grandma was quiet.
Then she said, “I was angry with you.”
The admission surprised me.
“You married a man I believed would make your life harder.”
My jaw tightened.
“He loved me.”
“I know.”
“You never acted like you knew.”
“I was wrong about some things.”
“Some?”
“Claire.”
“No, go ahead.”
I walked toward the window.
“What were you right about?”
“I was right that Evan was financially reckless.”
I felt as if the room had dropped several degrees.
“Don’t.”
“He had debt you did not fully understand.”
“Stop.”
“I am not saying that to insult him.”
“Then why are you saying it?”
“Because Patricia knew about it.”
I stared at my reflection in the glass.
“What?”
Grandma continued quietly.
“When she called me after the accident, she told me there were debts.”
“There were medical bills.”
“Not medical debt.”
My throat tightened.
“What debt?”
“I do not know the full amount.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Patricia refused to give me details.”
I turned away from the window.
“She told you Evan had debt, convinced you I couldn’t manage money, took control of your transfer, and then spent it?”
“I did not say she convinced me you couldn’t manage money.”
“You decided that part yourself.”
Grandma did not argue.
I pressed two fingers against my forehead.
“Did she say she used any of the money to pay his debts?”
“She implied some of it might be necessary.”
A knock sounded at the door.
I nearly jumped.
Room service had already come.
I looked through the peephole.
My mother stood in the hallway.
My stomach dropped.
“Claire?”
Grandma heard the knock through the phone.
“Who is it?”
“My mother.”
“Do not open that door if you do not want to.”
I almost laughed at the sentence.
An hour earlier, she would have told me exactly what to do.
“Grandma.”
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow, I want every message between you and Patricia about me.”
She paused.
“All right.”
“Not selected messages.”
“All of them.”
“All right.”
“And don’t delete anything embarrassing.”
A faint, humorless sound came through the phone.
“That may be difficult.”
“For once, try.”
I ended the call.
Mom knocked again.
“Claire, please.”
I stood in the middle of the room.
Every instinct told me to stay silent.
Then Mom said through the door, “There’s something about Evan you need to know.”
I opened it.
She looked smaller without her coat.
Her hair had fallen loose around her face, and she was holding an old manila envelope against her chest.
I stepped aside but did not invite her farther than the entry.
“What is that?”
She looked toward the crib.
“Is Lily asleep?”
“Yes.”
Mom lowered her voice.
“Patricia gave this to me after Evan died.”
I stared at the envelope.
“Why?”
“She said you weren’t ready.”
“For what?”
Mom’s eyes filled again.
I hated how much I still wanted to comfort her.
Instead, I waited.
She held the envelope out.
“I should have given it to you eleven months ago.”
I took it.
My name was written across the front.
Not in Patricia’s handwriting.
Not in Mom’s.
In Evan’s.
The sight of his handwriting emptied the room of everything else.
For one second, I was back in our apartment with Evan leaving grocery lists on the counter in the same uneven block letters because he always pressed too hard with a pen.
I touched the C in my name with my thumb.
Mom watched me.
“Where did she get this?”
“She said it was in his things.”
“What things?”
“The things the police returned after the accident.”
I looked up.
“The police gave his personal property to me.”
“Not all of it.”
My fingers tightened around the envelope.
“What does that mean?”
Mom swallowed.
“Patricia went to the hospital before you did.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“I was there within an hour.”
“I know.”
“Then how was she there first?”
“She lived closer to the accident site.”
I stared at her.
The facts rearranged themselves with an ugly little click.
May you like
Patricia had called me that morning.
She had told me there had been an accident and said she was driving to the hospital because someone needed to meet the ambulance.
