Chương 4
Noah’s eyebrows pulled together.
“What mistakes?”
“Several.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Harrison almost smiled.
“No.”
He looked at the ground.
“It isn’t.”
A security officer farther down the curb began waving cars forward.
Martin lowered his window.
“We have to move.”
I nodded.
“We’re leaving.”
Harrison’s head came up.
“Chloe.”
“Not here.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You have my attorney’s number.”
His face hardened.
For one second the old Harrison returned so completely that I could almost see our kitchen around him.
“I’m not calling your attorney to ask permission to speak to my sons.”
“You are not speaking to them alone.”
“I didn’t say alone.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to ask when I could see them.”
Noah’s gaze moved between us.
Eli’s did too.
I heard my own voice becoming sharper and hated it.
The curb was not the place to fight.
In front of the boys was not the place to fight.
Five years earlier, Harrison and I had been excellent at choosing the worst possible moment and then blaming each other for the timing.
“When?”
“Harrison.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
His eyes searched mine.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
Then he looked at the boys.
“Can I say goodbye?”
It was such an ordinary question that I nearly resented him for making it difficult to refuse.
I stepped aside.
Harrison stayed where he was.
He did not approach them.
“Goodbye, Noah,” he said.
Noah stiffened slightly at hearing his name.
“Bye.”
“Eli.”
Eli raised one hand.
“Bye.”
Harrison looked at Miles.
Miles held out his paper airplane.
“You forgot this.”
Harrison walked the two steps to the door and handed it back.
Their fingers did not touch.
“Thanks,” Miles said.
“You’re welcome.”
Miles examined the wing.
“You folded it wrong.”
Harrison looked alarmed.
“I tried to put it back exactly.”
“It was more crooked.”
“I’m sorry.”
Miles sighed.
“It’s okay.”
Then he leaned toward Harrison with the solemnity of someone sharing professional advice.
“You have to bend this part or it nosedives.”
Harrison swallowed.
“I’ll remember.”
Miles sat back.
I closed the door.
Harrison remained on the curb as Martin pulled away.
Noah twisted around in his seat to look through the rear window.
Eli did not.
Miles began fixing the airplane.
I kept my eyes forward until the terminal disappeared behind concrete pillars.
Nobody spoke for almost a minute.
Then Noah said, “Is he rich?”
I turned.
“What?”
“He had that watch.”
Eli looked interested now.
“What watch?”
“The kind Uncle Ben says only jerks buy.”
I rubbed my forehead.
My brother’s educational influence remained unmatched.
“That is not exactly what Uncle Ben says.”
“That is exactly what he says.”
Martin made another suspicious coughing sound.
“Harrison has money,” I said.
“How much?”
“More than we need to discuss.”
Noah’s eyes widened.
“So, like, billionaire money?”
I looked at him.
He looked pleased with himself.
“Kids at school know who Harrison Sterling is,” he said.
Of course they did.
I had spent years assuming that avoiding photographs and keeping my former married name off school forms would buy me time.
Apparently I had forgotten the existence of classmates with phones.
“You knew who he was?” I asked.
“I knew his name.”
“And you never noticed that you look like him?”
Noah shrugged.
“He looks older on the internet.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
Eli leaned toward his brother.
“Wait.”
He looked at me.
“Are we billionaire kids?”
“No.”
His disappointment was immediate.
“Why not?”
“Because you are my children and you have exactly the same amount of money you had this morning.”
“That feels unfair,” Miles said.
I stared at him.
He kept working on the airplane.
Martin laughed outright this time.
The boys started talking over one another.
Did Harrison own planes?
Did he have bodyguards?
Was his house really the one from the video Noah had seen?
Did he know famous people?
Could he buy a dinosaur skeleton?
Was that even legal?
I answered almost none of it.
By the time we reached the highway, the shock had transformed into the kind of noisy curiosity children used to protect themselves from fear.
I let them talk.
I watched gray airport buildings give way to billboards and warehouses.
My phone vibrated inside my bag.
I ignored it.
It vibrated again.
Then a third time.
Noah heard it.
“Is that him?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s probably him.”
“You suddenly seem very invested in my messages.”
“Because now they’re interesting.”
I pulled out the phone.
Three messages waited from an unsaved number.
The first said, Please tell me they are okay.
The second said, I won’t come to your house.
The third said, I swear I won’t do anything without speaking to you first.
I read that one twice.
Five years earlier, Harrison had not promised patience.
He had promised consequences.
I locked the screen.
“Was it him?” Eli asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That he wants to talk.”
Noah stared out the window.
“Are you going to?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Can we listen?”
“No.”
“That seems suspicious.”
“It’s called parenting.”
“That seems suspicious too.”
I almost smiled, but the tightness in my chest would not let me.
At home, ordinary life tried to reassemble itself around us.
Backpacks were still piled by the mudroom bench from Friday.
A sock had somehow ended up beneath the dining table.
Someone had left a glass of water beside the piano and created a pale ring in the wood.
The refrigerator held half a container of strawberries and no milk because I had forgotten to order groceries before my trip.
For twenty minutes, the boys argued over frozen pizza toppings as if nothing fundamental had changed.
I burned the first one because I stood in the kitchen staring at Harrison’s third message until the smoke detector began screaming.
Noah ran in.
“Mom!”
“I know.”
“You’re burning dinner.”
“I know.”
Miles appeared behind him.
May you like
“Is this because of Dad?”
The word hit me harder than I expected.
