Chương 6
"Then we deal with that."
Oliver's eyes lowered.
"How?"
Kevin had no useful answer.
He stood and pulled on the dark robe hanging at the foot of the bed.
"We don't know what's going to happen yet."
Oliver's shoulders rose under the blanket.
"Mom left."
Noah whispered, "She died."
"I know."
Oliver's voice sharpened.
"I know that."
Kevin stepped closer.
Oliver backed away.
It was only half a step, but Kevin stopped immediately.
"Hey."
"I know she died."
"I didn't say you didn't."
"Everybody talks like I don't understand things."
Kevin felt the sting of recognition.
He had done exactly that.
At the hospital, adults had spoken around the twins because they were children.
Afterward, relatives had lowered their voices whenever Claire's name came up.
Teachers had used phrases like difficult transition and adjustment period.
Kevin himself had told them their mother had gone somewhere she couldn't come back from before finally forcing himself to say dead.
Oliver had listened to every version.
"You're right," Kevin said.
The boy looked up.
"I've done that too."
Noah crawled off the bed with more confidence than coordination and landed on the rug with a soft thump.
Kevin reached automatically, but Noah was already upright.
"Can we have pancakes now?"
Oliver stared at his brother.
"You only care about pancakes."
"I care about syrup too."
Kevin laughed before he could stop himself.
Oliver fought a smile and lost.
The tension broke enough for him to walk closer.
Kevin held out one hand.
Oliver looked at it, then ignored it and leaned briefly against Kevin's side instead.
The contact lasted maybe two seconds.
Kevin did not move.
Then Oliver stepped away.
"Pancakes," Noah said again.
"You're relentless."
Noah nodded proudly.
They went downstairs together.
The mansion was still half asleep.
Morning light pressed pale gray against the tall windows, flattening the warm glow of the hallway sconces.
Someone had opened the curtains in the breakfast room, and the garden beyond the glass was washed in early mist.
Annie stood at the kitchen island with a bowl, whisking batter by hand.
She had changed back into her black dress, white apron, and maid cap.
A skillet warmed on the stove.
Noah ran toward her.
"You promised."
Annie looked at him.
"I said maybe."
"Maybe means yes."
Kevin pointed at Noah.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Evidence."
Annie looked between them.
"Should I be worried?"
"Constantly."
Oliver climbed onto one of the stools.
"Are you leaving?"
Annie's hand stopped in the batter.
Kevin closed his eyes for half a second.
So much for breakfast before the conversation.
Annie set the whisk down.
"Good morning to you too."
Oliver did not smile.
"Are you?"
She looked at Kevin.
He gave the smallest shake of his head, not warning her away, only admitting that he had no rescue prepared.
Annie wiped her hands on a towel.
"My job is changing."
"That means yes."
"It means I don't know yet."
Oliver's face closed.
Annie leaned one hip against the island.
"Would you rather I lie?"
He looked at her.
"No."
"Neither would I."
Noah climbed onto the stool beside his brother.
"If you leave, who makes pancakes?"
Mrs. Bell entered carrying a stack of mail.
"I am capable of pancakes."
Noah looked appalled.
Mrs. Bell stopped.
"I have been cooking since before your father learned to tie his shoes."
Kevin took the mail from her.
"I don't think that's helping your case."
Mrs. Bell gave him a look.
Annie turned back to the stove.
The ordinary movement seemed to release the room.
Butter hissed in the skillet.
Noah began arguing that blueberries should be placed in the batter one at a time because otherwise they would "get scared."
Oliver corrected him with great seriousness.
Mrs. Bell sorted envelopes into piles on the side counter.
Kevin stood holding a utility bill, two business letters, a charity invitation, and something addressed to Claire.
His hand stopped.
The envelope was cream, heavy paper, her name written in blue ink.
MRS. CLAIRE HART.
No forwarding mark.
No printed barcode beyond the usual postal strip.
Annie glanced over from the stove and saw his face.
She did not ask.
Mrs. Bell did.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
Kevin turned the envelope over.
The return address belonged to a gallery in Manhattan.
He remembered Claire visiting it once, maybe twice.
She had bought a small abstract painting there that Kevin privately thought resembled a damaged traffic sign.
It now hung in a downstairs corridor because he had been unable to decide what else to do with it.
Mrs. Bell saw the name.
"That came yesterday."
"Why didn't I get it yesterday?"
"You were working."
"I was in the house."
"So was the letter."
Kevin looked at her.
Mrs. Bell continued sorting mail.
Annie slid the first pancake onto a plate.
Noah cheered.
Kevin put the envelope on the counter.
He had learned that opening Claire's mail could ruin an entire day.
Catalogs were manageable.
Bank notices were irritating.
Medical bills were worse.
The hardest were invitations from organizations that had not updated their lists.
Please join us.
We hope to see you.
He had once received a membership renewal for the botanical garden and sat in his car for twenty minutes because Claire had bought the membership for the twins.
"Open it," Oliver said.
Kevin looked at him.
Oliver had been watching.
"It's Mom's."
"I see that."
"So open it."
Kevin picked up the envelope again.
Annie placed two pancakes in front of Oliver and said quietly, "You don't have to."
Oliver looked at her.
"It's his letter."
"It's Mom's."
"Her name is on it."
"She's not here."
The words came hard and flat.
Annie did not correct him.
Kevin ran one finger under the envelope flap.
Inside was a folded card and a single sheet of paper.
He read the first line.
Then he read it again.
May you like
Dear Mrs. Hart, We are pleased to confirm the private restoration appointment you requested for the twenty-third.
Kevin checked the date at the top of the letter.
