Chương 4
“You poured juice on my son.”
“He has been allowed to run through every room, touch anything he wants, interrupt meals, climb on furniture—”
“He is four.”
“And you use that as permission for everything.”
Arthur raised his voice. “Enough.”
The room fell still.
Mara studied Isabelle’s face. Beneath the anger was something less impressive and more dangerous: panic.
Not fear of punishment. Fear of displacement.
“You thought making him miserable would make us leave,” Mara said.
Isabelle’s mouth tightened.
Paul intervened. “That is an inflammatory invention.”
But Arthur was watching Isabelle now.
Mara saw it and so did she.
“By breakfast,” Mara said, “I want the footage preserved and a copy sent to my attorney.”
“You don’t have an attorney,” Arthur said.
“I will.”
She returned upstairs and packed while Theo slept.
It took less than twenty minutes to gather what they would need for the night and longer to decide what could be abandoned. Mara moved through the guesthouse pulling clothes from drawers, chargers from outlets, medicine from the bathroom cabinet. She found one of Theo’s socks behind a chair and nearly cried over it.
Eleanor followed her from room to room.
“You cannot drive like this.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You’re shaking.”
“That will pass.”
“Where will you go?”
“Jules has a sofa.”
“With a four-year-old?”
“She also has a floor, a roof, and no one who pours things on children.”
Eleanor winced.
Mara zipped Theo’s suitcase. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“No.”
Outside, sunset had turned the cream arches pink. A maintenance worker had cleaned the terrace despite Mara’s demand that it remain untouched. The tiles were damp and smelled faintly of bleach. The white cup was gone.
She stopped in the doorway.
“Who cleaned this?”
Eleanor followed her gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Where is the cup?”
“I told the staff to leave it.”
“Who moved it?”
Sofia appeared near the hall, now wearing jeans and a plain white shirt. Her shift had ended, but she still held herself as though expecting instructions.
“Mr. Mercer told Daniel to clean,” she said.
“Where did Daniel put the cup?”
“In the kitchen bin.”
Mara went through the service corridor fast enough that Eleanor had to lift her skirt to keep up. She found the cup beneath coffee grounds, wilted salad, and a broken cardboard pastry box. The white porcelain was unbroken. Juice stained the rim.
She lifted it using the clean edge of the garment bag containing Theo’s shirt.
Eleanor stared. “What are you doing?”
“Not letting them erase the afternoon one ordinary object at a time.”
Sofia stood in the kitchen entrance.
Mara placed the cup inside a second bag and sealed it.
“Did you see her pour it?” she asked.
Sofia looked toward Eleanor.
Eleanor said, “Tell the truth.”
“That is easy to say when your room doesn’t come with your employment,” Sofia replied.
Her voice surprised all three of them.
Mara softened. “I’m not asking you to risk your job tonight.”
“What are you asking?”
“Whether I imagined your face.”
Sofia folded her arms around herself. “I saw Ms. Laurent raise the cup. I was coming through the drawing room. I thought she was going to drink. Then she looked down at Theo.”
“And?”
“And she turned her wrist.”
The kitchen refrigerator clicked off. Without its hum, Sofia’s next words sounded very clear.
“She did not drop it.”
Mara’s eyes closed for a moment.
“Will you say that tomorrow?”
Sofia looked toward the service stairs.
“I don’t know.”
“Fair enough.”
“You’re not angry?”
“I’m angry at the people who made honesty dangerous for you.”
Eleanor opened her handbag and took out a card. “Call me if anyone threatens your position.”
Sofia did not accept it.
“You live here too,” she said. “Your brother pays you as a consultant. You sit on the foundation board. You aren’t outside this.”
Eleanor lowered the card.
“No,” she said. “I suppose I’m not.”
Mara carried Theo to the car just after eight. He woke when she fastened his seat belt.
“Are we going home?”
The question stopped her.
Their townhouse was wrapped in plastic and warning tape. The guesthouse behind them belonged to a man who had declined to name what happened.
“We’re going to Aunt Jules’s.”
“For how many sleeps?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He looked through the window toward the dark terrace.
“My plane.”
Mara’s heart dropped. In the rush, she had left it draining on the towel.
“I’ll get it.”
“No.”
“It will take one minute.”
His hand shot out and caught her sleeve.
“No, Mommy.”
She understood. He did not want her to go back inside.
Eleanor, standing beside the car, heard him too.
“I’ll bring it,” she said.
Theo pressed his lips together.
Eleanor disappeared into the guesthouse and returned with the red airplane wrapped in the hand towel. She handed it through the open door.
“The water is mostly out,” she told him. “But it may need a little repair.”
Theo took it without answering.
Arthur came out of the main house as Mara closed the rear door. His jacket was gone, and his sleeves were rolled to the forearms.
“You are making a mistake,” he said.
Mara walked around the car.
“Then it will be mine.”
“We can handle this privately.”
“You are handling it privately. That’s the problem.”
“Isabelle has agreed to stay elsewhere tonight.”
“Agreed?”
“She is leaving.”
“For a hotel?”
“That is not relevant.”
“It’s relevant to whether you think she frightened a child or committed a social error.”
Arthur glanced at Theo through the glass. “Lower your voice.”
“He can’t hear us.”
“The staff can.”
There it was again: the invisible audience before whom Arthur’s life had always been performed.
Mara placed her bag in the passenger seat.
“What would you do,” she asked, “if Sofia had poured that cup?”
Arthur frowned. “That is different.”
“Why?”
“She is an employee.”
“And Isabelle is what?”
He did not answer.
May you like
Mara nodded. “Exactly.”
She drove away before he could ask her to stay.
