Chương 9
"Exactly."
"Did he say why he's involved?"
"No."
"But he asked something strange."
I waited.
Thomas continued.
"He asked whether tonight's Grand Pinnacle announcement was still happening."
"What announcement?"
"He wouldn't say."
I looked through the glass doors.
Richard was sitting on the floor with Hazel while Maribel packed away some crayons.
My father looked uncomfortable and entirely unwilling to move.
"The note said bridge before Pinnacle announcement."
"I remember."
"What was Spencer planning to announce?"
"That is now a very interesting question."
I closed my eyes.
"Find out."
"Gwen."
"What?"
"Do not go to that gala."
I opened my eyes.
"I haven't decided."
"You are not an investigator."
"No."
"You're also the subject of a custody filing."
"I know."
"Then behave like someone who needs to look stable."
I almost laughed.
"What does stable look like?"
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
"Not walking into a ballroom full of cameras and publicly detonating your husband's company."
I leaned against the railing.
"I wasn't planning to detonate anything."
"Good."
"I was planning to listen."
Thomas said nothing.
That silence told me he hated the idea.
I looked back inside.
Hazel had fallen asleep against Richard's side.
My father sat perfectly still because moving might wake her.
Six years ago, I had walked away from him because I believed control dressed itself differently depending on who exercised it.
Richard called control protection.
Spencer called it marriage.
I had spent too long accepting both definitions.
"I won't take Hazel," I said.
Thomas sighed.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
"What are you going to do?"
I watched Richard carefully lift Hazel into his arms.
"Something I should have done years ago."
Thomas sounded tired.
"Which is?"
"Show up without asking anyone's permission."
Thomas let out a slow breath.
"That sentence has historically cost your family a lot of money."
"Then consider this tradition."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Behind the glass, Richard had managed to stand without waking Hazel.
Her cheek rested against his shoulder, one fist curled into the lapel of his jacket.
For a man who had once refused to hold my purse because he thought it looked ridiculous, he carried a sleeping child with absurd care.
"Good."
"Better."
"And if she tells me not to go?"
Thomas paused.
"Will you listen?"
"Probably."
"That is not reassuring."
"It's the best you're getting."
I ended the call before he could argue again.
Richard was waiting when I stepped inside.
"You're going."
It wasn't a question.
"I might."
He shifted Hazel slightly.
Her hair had dried in soft curls against his sleeve.
"Bad idea."
"Thomas said the same thing."
"Thomas is often right when he's irritating."
"I've noticed."
Richard looked toward the bedroom.
"Help me put her down."
We laid Hazel beneath a light blanket, shoes off, stuffed rabbit tucked under one arm.
She stirred when I kissed her forehead.
"Mommy?"
"I'm here."
"You going somewhere?"
The question stopped me.
Children had an instinct for departures even when asleep.
"Maybe for a little while."
Her eyes opened.
"Don't go to Daddy's house."
"I'm not."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She relaxed.
Richard stood in the doorway, looking anywhere except at us.
I waited until Hazel's breathing evened out again.
Then I closed the bedroom door almost completely.
"You can say it," I told him.
Richard frowned.
"Say what?"
"That I should stay."
"I already said it."
"No, you said going was a bad idea."
"Same thing."
"No."
He gave me the look that had intimidated executives and enraged me since adolescence.
"Fine."
He lowered his voice.
"You should stay with your daughter tonight."
The sentence hurt because part of me agreed with him.
"I have spent six years staying."
"That's not the same."
"No."
"Then don't use it as an excuse to make another bad choice."
There it was.
The old Richard.
A judgment delivered as fact.
I crossed my arms.
"And this is why I left."
His face closed.
"I thought you left because I threatened to cut you off if you married Spencer."
"That too."
"I was right about him."
"Congratulations."
His jaw tightened.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
For several seconds, the house was quiet except for the refrigerator humming behind us.
Richard looked suddenly tired.
Not old.
Just tired.
"I spent six years being right alone," he said.
The anger went out of me.
Not all at once.
Enough.
"Whose choice was that?"
"Mine."
I hadn't expected the answer.
He looked toward Hazel's room.
"I could have called."
"You did."
"I could have called without demanding."
That was also true.
My father had called twice during the first year of my marriage.
The first time, he told me Spencer would bankrupt us both.
The second time, he offered to send a car if I admitted the marriage was a mistake.
I hung up both times.
After that came birthday cards without messages, holiday gifts returned unopened, and silence sharpened by pride on both sides.
"I could have answered," I said.
Richard nodded.
It wasn't forgiveness.
It was something smaller and perhaps more useful.
Naomi Keller answered on the fourth ring.
Her voice was brisk.
"Thomas Crawford said you would call."
"I hope he didn't tell you what to do."
"He tried."
I smiled despite myself.
"What happened?"
I told her about the emergency filing.
She already had the docket open.
"You're not leaving California tonight."
"I'm not planning to."
"You're not taking Hazel to a hotel under another name."
"No."
"You're not posting anything online."
"I don't post."
"Excellent."
She continued.
"You are going to preserve every message, cooperate with the police, obtain the dentist's records, and avoid any direct conversation with Mr. Albright that isn't necessary for the child's immediate welfare."
"Understood."
"And you are not going to the gala."
I closed my eyes.
Richard, standing several feet away, heard enough to raise his eyebrows.
"Why?"
"Because your husband has alleged instability and retaliatory behavior."
"So staying hidden proves stability?"
May you like
"No."
"Then why should he control where I can appear?"
