Chương 6
Silence fell between them.
Margaret regretted it immediately.
Samuel spoke again, quieter.
“Yeah.”
She pressed her lips together.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am about that.”
“Which is convenient.”
Margaret stared at the geometric pattern in the hallway carpet.
“You’re right.”
That answer seemed to confuse him more than an argument would have.
He did not respond.
Margaret continued.
“I’m angry at you.”
“I know.”
“I’m angrier at him.”
“I know.”
“And I’m furious with myself.”
Samuel said nothing.
She rested her head against the wall.
“I spent months thinking Chloe was the problem.”
“Mom.”
“I went through her things.”
“What?”
Margaret shut her eyes.
“I came here when you were both out.”
The traffic noise behind Samuel disappeared.
“What do you mean you came here?”
“I used the key.”
“How often?”
Margaret wanted to lie.
That reflex frightened her because it sounded like Walter.
“Maybe twelve times.”
“Jesus.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Samuel.”
“You went through our apartment twelve times?”
“I checked things.”
“What things?”
“Food.”
He laughed sharply.
“Food?”
“Laundry.”
“Are you serious?”
“And receipts.”
Samuel swore.
Margaret let him.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
She had no answer that did not sound ridiculous.
“Chloe?”
Samuel asked.
Margaret looked down.
“Yes.”
“My wife?”
“Yes.”
“The woman who had a miscarriage and didn’t tell you because she was scared you’d make comments about when we were trying again?”
The words hit harder than Walter’s betrayal had for a moment.
“I wouldn’t have.”
“You already did.”
Margaret frowned.
“When?”
“At Christmas.”
She remembered the tiny Vikings onesie.
The joke.
Chloe smiling.
Chloe leaving the room.
Margaret covered her mouth.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes burned.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the point.”
Samuel’s voice cracked, then hardened again.
“You never know because you decide first.”
Margaret looked at the key hidden beneath the apartment door.
“I suppose I do.”
“You decided Chloe was irresponsible.”
“Yes.”
“You decided she was cheating.”
“Yes.”
“You decided I needed saving.”
“Yes.”
“And meanwhile Dad actually stole from you.”
Margaret swallowed.
“Yes.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Samuel said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not telling you.”
She lowered her hand.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of the money?”
“Of all of it.”
His voice sounded smaller.
“I borrowed from Dad because I couldn’t fix what was happening with Chloe.”
Margaret stayed quiet.
“She wasn’t sleeping,” Samuel said.
“She quit teaching for almost two months.”
“She wouldn’t go near the studio.”
“I kept telling her we could recover the money because I thought that was the thing she was scared of.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.”
“What was it?”
Samuel took several seconds to answer.
“She thought the miscarriage was her fault.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“She kept thinking it happened because she was stressed and working too much.”
“Did a doctor tell her that?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Because grief isn’t logical, Mom.”
Margaret stopped.
“Yes.”
Samuel continued.
“I wanted something I could solve.”
“Money.”
“Yeah.”
“So you borrowed it.”
“Dad said you both had access to equity and that you’d agreed we should use it.”
Margaret’s jaw tightened.
“What exactly did he say?”
“He said you told him family came before numbers.”
That sounded like something Margaret might say.
Walter had chosen well.
“I have said that.”
“I know.”
“But not about borrowing against our house.”
“I know that now.”
The elevator chimed at the far end of the hallway.
Samuel appeared a moment later, still wearing his work clothes, dark slacks and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He stopped when he saw Margaret sitting on the floor.
For one second neither moved.
Then Samuel came toward her.
Margaret began struggling to stand.
He offered a hand.
She looked at it.
He almost pulled it back.
Margaret took it.
Samuel helped her up.
They faced each other awkwardly.
He was taller than Walter now, though Margaret still sometimes saw the fifteen-year-old in his shoulders when he was afraid.
“You look terrible,” she said.
Samuel blinked.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
Margaret almost smiled.
Samuel looked at the apartment door.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you call him?”
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
Samuel studied her.
“What are you going to do?”
Margaret looked at him.
“I’m going to find out what he did.”
Samuel’s expression tightened.
“And then?”
“That depends on what I find.”
The elevator chimed again.
Both turned.
Chloe stepped out carrying a gym bag over one shoulder.
Ethan, the elegant man Margaret had condemned as her secret lover less than twenty-four hours earlier, walked beside her carrying two takeout coffees.
Chloe stopped when she saw Margaret.
Her eyes moved from Margaret to Samuel.
“What happened?”
Samuel looked at his mother.
Margaret understood the invitation.
She could let him explain.
She could hide inside his shame.
Instead she stepped forward.
“I broke into your apartment.”
Chloe’s face changed.
“What?”
“I’ve been doing it for months.”
Samuel closed his eyes.
Margaret continued before courage could leave her.
“I copied your key without permission.”
Ethan slowly lowered one of the coffees.
Chloe stared at Margaret.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t trust you.”
Samuel said softly, “Mom.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
She looked directly at Chloe.
“I accused you in my own mind of things you never did.”
Chloe’s jaw tightened.
“What things?”
Margaret almost avoided the worst one.
She did not.
“I thought you were cheating on Samuel.”
Ethan looked at his sister.
Chloe gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“With Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“My brother?”
“Yes.”
Ethan muttered, “This is going well.”
Chloe ignored him.
“You came into my home because you thought I was sleeping with my brother?”
“I didn’t know he was your brother.”
“You could have asked.”
“Yes.”
“You could have asked Samuel.”
“Yes.”
“You could have asked me.”
Margaret looked down.
“Yes.”
Chloe’s voice dropped.
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
May you like
The hallway seemed suddenly too narrow for all of them.
Margaret forced herself to look back up.
