Chương 10
I studied her.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“Your family’s attorney isn’t neutral either.”
“No.”
She gave a tired smile.
“But he’s not loyal to the Sterlings.”
That was fair.
I slipped the card into my bag.
“What are you going to do?”
Chloe looked back at the wedding she had spent eleven months planning.
Workers were already folding chairs.
Her father stood near the aisle speaking into his phone.
Luke had not moved.
“I’m going upstairs.”
She looked at the estate.
“I’m taking off this dress.”
Then she looked at me.
“After that, I have no idea.”
I nodded.
“That sounds reasonable.”
She laughed once.
“You’re the second person today to tell me that not knowing is reasonable.”
“Who was first?”
“My father.”
“Then he’s smarter than he looks.”
She glanced at him.
“Please never tell him that.”
I opened the car door.
Leo climbed in first.
Before I could follow, he turned around.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Is Luke a bad person?”
Across the lawn, Luke heard his name but not the question.
I looked at my son.
There were easy answers available.
That was exactly why I did not trust them.
“He has done bad things.”
Leo waited.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
I sat beside him.
“I don’t know what kind of person he is going to be next.”
Leo considered that.
Then he looked through the window at his father.
“Does he get to choose?”
I looked too.
Luke stood alone now.
Martin had walked away.
Chloe had gone inside.
His mother held the blue box against her chest.
The report remained in his hand.
“Yes,” I said.
“He does.”
Leo leaned back against the seat.
“So do we.”
I closed the door.
“Yes.”
The limousine pulled away from the estate.
For the first few minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Mason asked whether a ruined wedding meant the cake would be cheaper.
I laughed so suddenly that tears came into my eyes.
He looked offended.
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“That makes it worse,” Leo said.
Even Iris giggled.
I covered my mouth and tried to stop.
I could not.
Seven years of anger had not disappeared.
Nothing had been repaired.
A father had learned he had children.
A bride had walked away before becoming a wife.
A family’s oldest lie had cracked open beneath white orchids and rented glassware.
Tomorrow there would be lawyers.
There would be questions.
There would be consequences none of us could yet see.
But for the length of one traffic light on the road out of Santa Barbara, my children argued about cake while I laughed until my face hurt, and that ordinary sound felt more valuable than anything Luke Sterling had ever thought I had lost.
By the time we reached the bakery, Mason had decided that ruined weddings should automatically result in discounted desserts.
The woman behind the counter did not ask why three children in formal clothes were ordering dinosaur cookies at four in the afternoon.
She simply boxed six of them, added a chocolate cupcake for free, and told Mason not to argue with generosity.
He looked at me as if I had arranged this triumph personally.
Leo chose nothing.
He stood by the window, watching traffic slide past beneath the red bakery awning.
I bought him a plain sugar cookie anyway.
He accepted it without eating.
On the drive home, my phone vibrated so often that I finally turned it face down.
Two calls came from numbers I did not recognize.
Then my attorney, Claire Morales, texted.
Call me before responding to anyone.
That was sensible advice.
Naturally, I ignored it for six minutes.
The next message came from Luke.
May I know that you got home safely?
I stared at the screen.
The wording annoyed me.
It was careful in a way he had rarely been careful when we were married.
He had once forgotten my birthday and defended himself by saying birthdays happened every year.
Now he was asking permission to know whether a car ride had ended safely.
I typed, We’re fine.
Then I deleted it.
I typed, Yes.
I deleted that too.
Finally, I locked the phone.
Leo noticed.
“Was that him?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to answer?”
“Probably later.”
He nodded.
“You tell us not to ignore people.”
“I tell you not to ignore teachers.”
“You said people.”
“Parenting contains revisions.”
He almost smiled.
Mason was asleep by then with frosting on his cuff.
Iris had placed two dinosaur cookies in her small purse for reasons she refused to explain.
When we reached the apartment building, the normal ugliness of the parking garage felt reassuring.
Concrete columns.
Oil stains.
Someone’s dented Corolla occupying half of a space.
No orchids.
No string quartet.
No dead woman’s letters waiting in a blue box.
I woke Mason and carried his jacket while he shuffled toward the elevator.
Inside, Iris examined herself in the mirrored wall.
“My hair looks weird.”
“It looked weird before the wedding too.”
She frowned at me.
“That’s rude.”
“It’s hereditary.”
“From you?”
“Unfortunately.”
She seemed satisfied by that.
At home, the children changed into pajamas while I stood in the kitchen and listened to Claire’s voicemail.
Her tone was brisk.
She had represented my company through two contract disputes and one unpleasant employee matter.
She did not scare easily, which was one reason I trusted her.
“Anna, I have seen the photographs already.”
I stopped unloading cookies.
“Do not panic about that sentence.”
I panicked about that sentence.
“The event is circulating privately before it circulates publicly.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do not post anything, do not respond to social media, do not speak to Luke’s attorney, and please tell me you did not sign anything.”
I looked at the children’s drawings held to the refrigerator by magnets.
“No,” I said to the empty kitchen.
The message continued.
“Call me.”
I called her from the hallway so the children would not hear.
May you like
She answered immediately.
“Tell me you’re alone.”
