Chương 3
David remained near the door.
I closed it behind him.
“Start at the beginning.”
Sarah’s fingers trembled as she swiped through her messages.
“My parents hated the hotel.”
“That is not the beginning.”
She looked up sharply, then caught herself.
“Dad still had the spare key.”
My stomach tightened.
“What spare key?”
“The one David gave him.”
I turned toward my son.
He sat down in the cheap upholstered chair beneath the air conditioner.
“It was supposed to be temporary.”
“When did you give my house key to Richard?”
“A couple of months ago.”
“Why?”
“So he could meet contractors if we were working.”
“You mean while you were planning construction I didn’t know about.”
He nodded once.
I looked back at Sarah.
“Richard entered the house this morning using that key?”
“Yes.”
“And then the wall collapsed?”
“We don’t know exactly.”
She held out the phone.
“There was a neighbor walking her dog who heard something and called 911.”
“Is he hurt?”
Sarah’s face folded for half a second before she forced it back under control.
“They took him to the hospital.”
“How badly?”
“He was conscious when the ambulance left.”
That was not an answer, which meant they did not have one.
I dressed while David stood outside the room and Sarah made a call to her mother.
Nobody spoke during the drive except when Sarah told me I was going the wrong way to the hospital.
“We are not going to the hospital yet.”
She stared at me from the passenger seat.
“My father is there.”
“And emergency services are at my house.”
“Hannah.”
“If the police are there, I need to know why.”
“He could have been killed.”
“Yes.”
The word came out harder than I intended.
Sarah turned toward the window.
For one ugly second, I hated her for making me feel guilty inside my own car.
Then I hated myself because her father was hurt and I was still keeping score.
David leaned forward from the back seat.
“Mom, she’s right.”
“I know she’s right.”
I took the next turn toward the hospital.
The emergency department waiting room smelled of coffee, disinfectant, and damp clothing.
Elaine stood when she saw us.
She was still wearing the navy silk blouse she had worn to dinner the night before, though one side had come untucked.
Her lipstick was gone.
She crossed the room and slapped Sarah.
The sound stopped three conversations.
Sarah did not move.
Elaine’s hand remained suspended between them.
“What did you do?”
“Mom—”
“What did you do?”
David stepped forward.
“Elaine, it wasn’t just Sarah.”
She turned on him.
“You told us the house was ready.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You said the renovations were almost handled.”
“I said we were handling them.”
“You let us sell our home.”
People were staring now.
A nurse behind the desk called for everyone to lower their voices.
Elaine sank into a chair.
Her handbag slipped from her shoulder and landed on the floor.
Nobody picked it up.
I sat beside her.
“Have you seen Richard?”
“They took him for scans.”
“Did anyone tell you what happened?”
“A beam fell.”
She pressed both hands against her mouth.
“They said his leg might be broken.”
Sarah crouched in front of her.
“Mom, I’m sorry.”
Elaine looked at her as though the words had come from a stranger.
“You said it was yours.”
Sarah froze.
I heard David inhale behind me.
Elaine’s eyes moved to mine.
“She told us you had given it to them.”
I said nothing.
“She said you wanted to stay in the city after retirement.”
Still nothing.
“She said maintaining two homes had become too much for you.”
Sarah stood abruptly.
“Mom, not here.”
“Where?”
Elaine’s voice cracked.
“Where exactly should I say it?”
A volunteer pushed a wheelchair past us.
An elderly man in a baseball cap watched the argument with open interest until his wife told him to stop staring.
I looked at Sarah.
“Did you tell them I gave you the house?”
Her face had become pale again.
“I told them it was going to stay in the family.”
“That isn’t what your mother said.”
“I was trying to make a plan.”
“For my property.”
“For all of us.”
“No.”
That one word felt different from the one I had said the day before.
Yesterday it had stopped construction.
This time it exposed something.
Sarah looked toward David for support.
He did not give it.
A doctor appeared and called Elaine’s name.
We all stood.
Richard had a fractured tibia, three cracked ribs, a concussion, and a deep cut along his shoulder that required stitches.
There was no spinal injury and no internal bleeding.
The doctor said he would probably need surgery on his leg later that day.
Elaine began crying from relief before the doctor finished.
Sarah put an arm around her.
Elaine allowed it.
I sat back down.
My anger had nowhere useful to go.
David took the chair beside me.
For several minutes we watched a muted morning show on the television mounted above the vending machines.
A chef was making pancakes.
Bright yellow captions explained how to avoid overmixing batter.
“Did Sarah tell you she’d told them I gave you the house?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
He looked exhausted.
“I knew she’d made them think living there would be permanent.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
He rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“I didn’t know she said you’d given it to us.”
I studied him.
“Why didn’t you stop any of this?”
He looked at the floor.
That question reached somewhere the others had not.
“Because I’m forty years old and I owe everyone money.”
I waited.
He laughed once, without humor.
“That sounds pathetic.”
“Keep going.”
“My business is in trouble.”
David owned a commercial printing company that had belonged to Robert before him.
For years he had told me it was doing well.
Not spectacularly, but well enough.
“How much trouble?”
May you like
“A lot.”
“How much?”
