Chương 2
I turned another page.
There were notes about phone calls.
"Mom attempted direct contact — blocked."
"Rebecca sent Lily gift — intercept."
"Grant asked for Sloan number — deflect."
The room seemed to tilt.
I grabbed Julian's desk.
My phone buzzed.
His name appeared.
I let it ring.
A text followed.
Did you move the cedar box?
My skin went cold.
I hadn't.
Then I looked toward the wall.
The box had left a clean rectangle in the dust behind the desk.
Julian knew exactly where it belonged.
I typed, No.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then vanished.
Then appeared again.
Finally he sent, Please stay out of my work things.
I photographed that message too.
By noon, I had copied every page of the notebook and put the originals exactly where I had found them.
I even studied the angle of the box against the baseboard before sliding it back.
It felt ridiculous until I remembered Julian asking whether I had moved it.
Leo came downstairs while I was making grilled cheese sandwiches nobody had requested.
He was fourteen now, taller than me and permanently hungry.
He opened the refrigerator, stared into it, closed it, then noticed the sandwiches.
"Are those available to the public?"
"One is."
"Capitalism wins again."
He took a plate.
"Where's Lily?"
"Upstairs."
"Dad texted me."
The spatula slipped against the pan.
"What did he say?"
Leo unlocked his phone.
"He said you're stressed and I should give you space."
I turned off the burner.
"When?"
"Like ten minutes ago."
Julian was managing the room from three hundred miles away.
"What did you tell him?"
"Thumbs-up."
"Why?"
"Because thumbs-up means either okay or screw you depending on context."
I looked at my son and nearly smiled.
Then he said, "Did you guys fight?"
"No."
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"Where you answer the exact question instead of the real one."
I had no defense against that.
He ate half the sandwich standing at the counter.
"Are you getting divorced?"
The word landed with surprising softness.
"I don't know."
He stopped chewing.
I wished immediately that I had lied.
"Don't tell Lily I said that."
"She'll know."
"How?"
"She knows everything."
He took another bite, but slower.
"Except apparently whether we're going to the beach."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Dad sent pictures."
He handed me his phone.
The first photograph showed Julian on a wide porch overlooking the ocean, a drink raised toward the camera.
Behind him stood Eleanor.
She looked older than when I had last seen her, smaller somehow, her silver hair cut to her chin.
Grant and Rebecca were there too.
So were people I didn't recognize.
On a table behind them sat framed photographs.
I enlarged the image.
One was our wedding picture.
Another was Lily's kindergarten portrait.
Another showed Leo missing his two front teeth.
My throat tightened.
"Who sent this?"
"Dad."
"Today?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Leo shrugged.
"He sends me stuff sometimes."
The kitchen went very still.
"Sometimes?"
His face closed immediately.
It was Julian's expression when cornered, and seeing it on my son hurt more than I expected.
"Just pictures."
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"Leo."
"A couple years."
I pulled out a chair.
"Sit down."
"I'm eating."
"Please."
He sat.
"Does your father talk to you about his family?"
Leo rubbed grease from his thumb onto the edge of his plate.
"Sometimes."
"What does he say?"
"Mom, don't make this weird."
"It's already weird."
His eyes lifted.
That was too sharp, and we both knew it.
I softened my voice.
"I need the truth."
He swallowed.
"Dad says Grandma asks about us."
My heart began pounding again.
"And?"
"He says you don't want us talking to her."
I couldn't speak.
Leo's face changed as he watched mine.
"That's true, right?"
"No."
He pushed the plate away.
"He said you blocked her."
"I didn't."
"He said you got mad when she tried to send Lily something."
"I never knew she sent Lily anything."
"Okay."
"Leo."
"Okay."
He stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
"Why would he say that?"
"I don't know yet."
"You're lying again."
"I'm not."
"You always know."
"No, honey, I really don't."
He stared at me with the furious, frightened look of a child discovering that adults could be confused too.
Then he left the kitchen.
I didn't follow him.
Five minutes later, Lily came down.
"Leo says Dad's a psychopath."
"Your brother is upset."
"So that's a no?"
"Lily."
She leaned against the counter.
I could keep protecting them from information that already controlled their lives, or I could give them enough truth to stop Julian from defining reality for all three of us.
"Your grandparents have been inviting us on those vacations."
Her face didn't change at first.
Then her mouth opened slightly.
"For how long?"
"Years."
"How many?"
"I don't know what I should tell you yet."
"That's not an answer."
"No, it isn't."
"Eleven?"
I said nothing.
She understood.
Her eyes filled, but she blinked hard and looked toward the window.
"That is so embarrassing."
Of all the reactions I had expected, embarrassment wasn't one.
"What is?"
"Us."
"We didn't do anything."
"We believed him."
"So did I."
"You're his wife."
The sentence came out cruelly.
She regretted it immediately.
I could see that.
It still hurt.
"Yes," I said.
She looked down.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"I didn't mean—"
"I know."
The doorbell rang.
None of us moved.
It rang again.
Through the narrow glass beside the front door, I saw a woman holding a white bakery box.
She was perhaps sixty, with cropped gray hair and sunglasses pushed onto her head.
I didn't recognize her until she turned slightly.
Rebecca Vance had aged eleven years since I last saw her, but the impatient way she shifted her weight was unchanged.
Lily whispered, "Is that Aunt Rebecca?"
My phone began ringing.
Julian.
May you like
I looked from his name to his sister waiting outside our house.
Then Rebecca raised her hand and knocked hard enough to rattle the frame.
