Chương 6
“That is not what I said.”
“It is almost exactly what you said.”
“I asked for help.”
“You always ask me for help.”
“Because you are capable.”
“You ask me because I say yes.”
She looked away.
That small movement told me I had finally reached something she could not dismiss.
“I didn’t know Alexander was coming,” she said.
It was such a strange defense that I nearly laughed.
“What would that have changed?”
Her silence lasted too long.
I nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Emma, don’t twist this.”
“I’m not.”
“If I had known you were engaged, obviously I would have—”
“Let me eat?”
Her face reddened.
“That is cruel.”
“No, Mom.”
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
“It’s embarrassing.”
That landed.
Her shoulders dropped.
For years, anger had been easier with my mother because anger gave her something to fight.
Embarrassment gave her nowhere to hide.
I untied the apron.
The knot had tightened during the evening.
My fingers struggled with it.
My mother watched.
Finally she reached forward.
“Here.”
I stepped back.
Her hand stopped in the air.
I loosened the knot myself.
It was childish.
I knew it was childish while I did it.
I still could not let her touch me.
I folded the apron and placed it on the counter.
My mother stared at it.
“You always liked helping me in the kitchen.”
“When I was twelve.”
“You used to beg me to let you make the pie crust.”
“I was twelve.”
She pressed her lips together.
A laugh escaped me, but there was nothing funny in it.
“We haven’t made pie crust together in fifteen years.”
She looked older then too.
Maybe everyone did once I stopped arranging them in the roles I had assigned.
My mother had lines beside her mouth I had not noticed.
Her hands were still damp.
“I suppose I thought you didn’t mind.”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Over and over.”
Her brows drew together.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I said I was tired.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“I said I couldn’t afford to keep helping Dad.”
“You said you’d figure it out.”
“Because when I said I couldn’t, you cried.”
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
I could see her searching through years she had filed differently.
“That was a difficult time for all of us.”
“I know.”
“Vanessa was away at school.”
“I know.”
“Logan was seventeen.”
“I was sixteen.”
The room went quiet.
My mother looked toward the sink.
A drop of water fell from the faucet.
Then another.
She reached over and tightened the handle.
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“No.”
I hated how tired I sounded.
“That was kind of the problem.”
From the foyer, Sophie called my name.
I wiped my palms on my pants.
“I should go.”
My mother straightened.
“Are you going with him?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight?”
I almost smiled.
“We’re engaged, Mom.”
She flushed.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.”
I turned toward the door.
“Emma.”
I stopped.
She picked up the folded apron, then put it back down.
“Is he good to you?”
It was the same question Vanessa had asked.
Coming from my mother, it hurt differently.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“That’s good.”
I waited for something else.
Nothing came.
For once, I did not supply it for her.
I went into the dining room.
Conversations fell quiet again.
I hated that.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
Aunt Claire stood first.
She hugged me with one arm because she was still holding her coffee.
“You look beautiful.”
“I’m wearing jeans and turkey grease.”
“I didn’t say fashionable.”
I laughed.
She kissed my cheek.
“Call me.”
Logan approached next.
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“So.”
“So.”
“You’re marrying Alexander Hayes.”
“That appears to be the plan.”
He looked toward the foyer, where Alexander was now discussing dinosaurs with Sophie.
“Does he know you snore?”
“I do not snore.”
“You absolutely snore.”
“You lived across the hall from me when we were teenagers.”
“Structural engineering was involved.”
I almost smiled.
Then his expression shifted.
“Did Dad ask you about Horizon?”
I looked at him.
“He told you?”
“No.”
Logan glanced toward our father.
“He has that face.”
“What face?”
“The one he had during the bankruptcy.”
I studied my brother.
“You remember that?”
His mouth twisted.
“I was seventeen, not dead.”
That surprised me.
In my private accounting of our family, Logan had always been spared.
Maybe spared was not the same as unaware.
He leaned closer.
“Is it bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
“It means I don’t know.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’ve got about eighty grand tied up in Whitmore.”
“What?”
He immediately looked annoyed with himself.
“Forget it.”
“No.”
“It’s not your problem.”
“When did you invest?”
“Last spring.”
“Why?”
“Dad asked.”
I stared at him.
Logan gave a humorless laugh.
“Yeah.”
“Does Melissa know?”
His wife was spending Thanksgiving with her parents in Boston because their youngest had strep.
His silence answered me.
“Logan.”
“Don’t.”
“She needs to know.”
“I know.”
“When?”
“I said I know.”
His voice sharpened.
Then he looked away.
“I thought it was safe.”
I could hear seventeen-year-old Logan in those words.
For years, I had resented him for being the future while I became the emergency fund.
Now I wondered what my father had asked of him once I stopped being available.
“Tell her.”
“Before Dad asks for more.”
He looked at me.
“He already did.”
A cold sensation moved through my chest.
“When?”
“Monday.”
“How much?”
“Emma.”
“How much?”
“Another fifty.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
Relief came too fast.
Then he added, “Not yet.”
I closed my eyes.
“Don’t.”
He bristled.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do with my money.”
“I’m not telling you what to do.”
“You literally just did.”
“Fine.”
May you like
I lowered my voice.
“Then at least ask to see the company’s books before you hand him anything.”
