Chương 7
The new locks were less than two hours old.
Margaret looked at the bandage reflected faintly in the dark television screen.
She said nothing.
Daniel picked up Vanessa's box.
Margaret felt guilt arrive so quickly it was almost physical.
"I can pay for a hotel tonight."
Daniel stopped.
"I don't need your money."
"It's one night."
"No."
"You don't know where you're going."
"I said I'll figure it out."
"Don't be stubborn."
He turned on her.
"Don't make me dependent on you and then complain that I'm dependent on you."
The words struck cleanly.
Margaret's hands fell to her sides.
Daniel looked as surprised as she felt.
Neither apologized.
The officer checked his watch again.
Daniel lifted the box.
"I need to move."
He carried it upstairs.
Margaret remained in the basement.
The second box sat near her feet.
She crouched to close the flaps Daniel had left open.
Something white showed beneath the corner of a folded sweater.
Margaret reached down to tuck it inside.
Her fingers touched thick paper.
She pulled it free.
It was an envelope with Daniel's name handwritten across the front.
Margaret recognized Vanessa's looping handwriting immediately.
The envelope was unsealed.
Margaret held it for several seconds.
Then Daniel called from upstairs.
"Mom, where's the tape?"
Margaret looked at his name on the envelope.
She could have put it back.
Instead she slid it into the pocket of her navy cardigan.
Margaret heard Daniel moving around upstairs while the envelope pressed against her ribs through the cardigan fabric.
"Top shelf by the furnace," she called.
"I checked."
"Then it's probably in the junk drawer."
"Which junk drawer?"
Margaret closed her eyes.
"There are three."
Daniel appeared at the top of the basement stairs.
"Why do you have three junk drawers?"
"Because your father believed categorizing junk made it less junky."
For the first time that morning, Daniel actually smiled.
It disappeared before he reached the bottom step.
"Did you find it?"
"No."
Margaret stood with Vanessa's second box at her feet.
Daniel bent to lift it.
His eyes moved briefly to Margaret's cardigan pocket.
She resisted the urge to touch it.
"What's that?"
Her heart gave one hard beat.
"What?"
"In your pocket."
Margaret looked down.
A corner of the envelope had worked its way above the fabric.
She pushed it inside.
"Paper."
Daniel straightened.
"What paper?"
She could have lied.
The lie came easily enough.
A receipt.
A locksmith invoice.
A grocery list.
Instead Margaret pulled out the envelope.
"I found this under Vanessa's sweater."
Daniel read his own name.
Something closed in his face.
"You opened it?"
"No."
"Why is it in your pocket?"
Margaret looked at the envelope.
The question deserved an answer she did not have.
"I was going to bring it upstairs."
Daniel held out his hand.
Margaret gave it to him.
He turned the envelope over.
"It's not sealed."
"I noticed."
"Did you read it?"
"No."
Daniel looked at her for several seconds.
Margaret felt heat rise into her cheeks.
"I didn't."
"Okay."
He slid the envelope into the box.
"You aren't going to read it?"
"Not now."
Margaret almost asked why.
She stopped herself.
The answer was none of her business.
That phrase had begun to occur to her more often since Paul died, usually too late.
Daniel carried the box upstairs.
Margaret followed more slowly.
At the kitchen entrance, the officer was speaking into his radio.
Daniel put Vanessa's box beside the side door and found the packing tape exactly where Margaret had said it would not be, on the kitchen counter behind the bread.
He held it up.
Margaret frowned.
"I didn't put that there."
"Nobody accused you."
"Your face did."
"My face is tired."
He taped the box shut.
The officer finished his call and stepped inside just far enough to speak without raising his voice.
"I need to clear in about five minutes."
Daniel nodded.
"That's fine."
Margaret looked toward the basement.
"There are still clothes."
"I can come back."
Margaret's body tightened.
Daniel saw it.
"Not inside."
"Then how?"
"You can put whatever's left in the garage."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"Today?"
"If you want me gone today, probably."
The resentment had returned.
Margaret felt her own rise in response.
"You've had thirty days."
Daniel tore the tape with his teeth.
"I've also been working."
"So have I."
"No, Mom, you've been retired for seven years."
Margaret stared at him.
Daniel froze with the tape between his fingers.
"That came out wrong."
"I volunteered at the library three mornings this week."
"I know."
"And I had two attorney appointments."
"I know."
"And I spent six hours packing belongings that aren't mine."
"I said I know."
The officer looked toward the truck.
Margaret realized she was arguing about labor because it was easier than arguing about fear.
She took a breath.
"I don't want you coming back inside without somebody here."
Daniel nodded.
"Fine."
"That isn't punishment."
"Okay."
"Don't say okay like that."
He looked at her.
"Like what?"
Margaret opened her mouth.
Nothing reasonable arrived.
She hated when Paul used to say she could find criticism in punctuation.
"I don't know."
Daniel looked down at the tape.
"Okay."
This one sounded different.
Or perhaps Margaret needed it to.
The officer stepped toward the driveway.
Daniel lifted the box.
"Thanks."
He carried it outside.
Margaret followed to the side entrance.
The officer paused beside her.
"If you're uncomfortable at any point after we leave, keep the doors locked and call if you need assistance."
Margaret nodded.
"Thank you."
He looked at the bandage above her eye again, not obviously.
"Do you have somebody who can stay with you today?"
The question embarrassed her.
"I'm fine."
"That's not quite what I asked."
Margaret almost laughed.
Apparently everybody had chosen that sentence today.
"My sister lives twenty minutes away."
"Good."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"No, ma'am."
The officer's expression remained perfectly neutral.
Margaret felt foolish.
"Sorry."
"No need."
May you like
Daniel returned from the truck.
The officer walked back toward the driveway.
