Chương 5
“And?”
“I told her it was yours.”
Claire’s fingertips went cold.
“She knew.”
“She knew the company was yours. She didn’t know the yacht was.”
“Daniel.”
“She thought Cormorant was leasing it to us.”
“Why would she think that?”
His silence answered.
Claire stood.
“No.”
“Claire—”
“You told her that?”
“I said there was an arrangement.”
“An arrangement.”
“I was trying to stop her from asking questions.”
“So you lied.”
“I was vague.”
“You lied vaguely.”
He pushed back from the table.
“Okay.”
“No, not okay.”
“I said okay because I heard you.”
“You hear me all the time.”
“That’s not fair.”
Claire stared at him.
Daniel looked angry now.
Good.
At least anger belonged to the room.
“You think this has been easy for me?” he said.
Claire laughed.
“No. There you are.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you finally found the part where you’re the injured person.”
“I am trying to tell you I’ve been trapped between two people I love.”
“You put yourself there.”
“She is my mother.”
“And I am your wife.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
His palm struck the table.
Not hard.
Hard enough.
Claire flinched.
Daniel saw it and immediately stepped back.
They both looked at his hand.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire said nothing.
He sat down again.
She remained standing.
After a while, Daniel said, “I didn’t know she would do that.”
“I believe you.”
“I would never let her hurt you.”
Claire looked at him.
“You keep using the word let.”
He frowned.
“You didn’t let her kick me. You didn’t control her. That’s not what I’m angry about.”
“Then what?”
“You let her version of me stand because correcting it would have cost you something.”
Daniel looked away.
Claire continued.
“She thought I was spending your money. You knew I was lending money to your family.”
“I paid it back.”
“The company paid it back.”
“It was my responsibility.”
“Fine. You knew I bought this yacht.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she credited you for it.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she used that supposed generosity as proof that I was taking from you.”
Daniel said nothing.
“And you stayed quiet.”
“Yes.”
The word was almost inaudible.
Claire sat down.
For the first time since the kick, the anger gave way to something worse.
Grief was quieter.
It did not need to win.
“When did you decide protecting your pride mattered more than protecting my reputation?”
Daniel’s eyes lifted.
“I never decided that.”
“That’s the problem.”
He stared at her.
Claire pressed her lips together.
The skin on her wrist had darkened to purple.
Daniel saw it again.
“I’ll correct it.”
“With her?”
“With everyone.”
Claire looked toward the windows.
A marina employee in a red jacket crossed the dock carrying a coil of line. He stopped to answer his phone. Farther away, a woman walked a golden retriever between parked cars as though the world had not changed at all.
Claire wanted to be that woman for ten minutes.
She wanted to think about whether the dog needed a raincoat.
“I need space,” she said.
“Okay.”
“I mean from you.”
Daniel nodded.
“I figured.”
“I’m taking Sophie home.”
“I’ll come.”
“No.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“I am not keeping her from you. I’m saying I don’t want to ride three hours in a car with you.”
“I can arrange another car.”
“Fine.”
Daniel stood.
At the door, he paused.
“My mother’s lawyer is going to ask for the incident report.”
“Let him.”
“She may threaten charges.”
“Let her.”
“You could have exposure too.”
“I know.”
He almost smiled at the phrase.
Claire did not.
She spent the drive home beside Sophie in the back seat.
Sophie slept for the first hour with her head against Claire’s shoulder.
Claire’s phone accumulated messages.
Her sister.
Her attorney.
Two friends who had been on the yacht.
A marina operations manager.
A number she did not recognize.
Margaret.
Daniel.
Claire turned the phone face down.
Sophie woke outside Providence and asked whether they could stop for fries.
They did.
They ate in the car because the restaurant was crowded.
Sophie dipped one fry in ketchup and held it up.
“It looks like a witch finger.”
Claire looked at it.
It did.
She laughed.
The laugh hurt her cheek.
Sophie laughed too, then stopped abruptly.
“Is it bad that I laughed?”
“No.”
“Because last night was bad.”
“You’re still allowed to laugh.”
Sophie considered this while eating the fry.
“Are you and Dad getting divorced?”
Claire looked through the windshield at the highway traffic crawling past.
“I don’t know.”
Sophie’s face crumpled.
Claire reached for her.
“No, sweetheart. Listen to me. I don’t know because your dad and I have things we have to talk about. But whatever happens, you still have both of us.”
“Grandma says divorce makes people pick.”
Claire felt her stomach tighten.
“When did she say that?”
“At Christmas.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Sophie shrugged.
“She said when grown-ups split up, everybody has to decide who they belong to.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Okay.”
“Was she lying?”
Claire chose her words carefully.
“She was giving you an adult fear that you didn’t need.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t have to pick.”
Sophie looked at her.
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
Three days later, a video of Claire slapping Margaret appeared online.
It lasted seven seconds.
There was no kick.
No chair.
No wrist.
It began with Claire saying, “You should’ve checked whose name is on this yacht.”
Then Margaret said, “What?”
Claire slapped her.
“Mine.”
The clip ended.
By noon, Claire had twenty-six missed calls.
By two, a business-news account had identified her.
By four, someone had found the name of Cormorant Maritime in public records.
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By evening, people who had never met Claire were debating whether she was an abused daughter-in-law, a violent heiress, a gold digger with better accounting, or proof that rich people should not be allowed on boats.
Claire sat at her kitchen island eating cereal directly from the box.
