Chương 5
“Good.”
“There’s no audio in that service hall.”
“I didn’t expect there to be.”
“Footage may not establish what was said.”
“It’ll establish how long a six-year-old was outside.”
Thomas nodded.
“Yes.”
“Preserve it.”
“Of course.”
“And the key-access records.”
“Yes.”
“And any staff incident reports.”
Thomas’s expression tightened. “I can preserve them. I can’t promise you unrestricted access to internal records.”
Daniel appreciated the answer because it was the first one that did not pretend everything would be simple.
“Fine.”
Thomas lowered his voice.
“Your mother has already spoken with our general manager.”
Daniel laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course she has.”
“She characterized this as a disciplinary disagreement within the family.”
“My daughter is six.”
“I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Thomas glanced toward Lucy again.
Daniel hated himself for the sharpness.
The man had not locked her out.
Daniel rubbed his face.
“Sorry.”
Thomas surprised him by saying, “You don’t need to apologize to me tonight.”
The sentence landed harder than Daniel expected.
Thomas handed him a card.
“My direct number. If anyone attempts to enter this room, call security first.”
“Thank you.”
When the door closed, Daniel turned.
Lucy was brushing the stuffed rabbit’s ears with the hotel hairbrush.
“Did Grandma try to come in?”
“No.”
“Is she going to?”
“I don’t know.”
Lucy nodded.
That answer seemed to satisfy her more than reassurance would have.
Daniel sat on the edge of the second bed.
“Do you want to call Aunt Rachel?”
Lucy brightened slightly.
“Yes.”
Rachel answered on the second ring.
Her face appeared sideways on Daniel’s screen.
“Why are you calling me instead of enjoying the gala from hell?”
Then she saw his expression.
She rotated the phone.
“What happened?”
Daniel looked at Lucy.
Lucy climbed beside him.
Rachel said, “Hey, birthday bug.”
“Hi.”
“Did Dad remember the cake?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Lucy looked toward the damaged white box, which he had carried upstairs without realizing why.
“He squished it.”
Rachel laughed.
“Classic Daniel.”
“I did not squish it.”
“The box looks like it got sat on.”
“It had a difficult evening.”
Lucy giggled.
The sound hurt and helped at the same time.
Rachel’s smile faded.
“What happened?”
Daniel told her the short version.
He did not say locked out at first.
He said put outside.
Then he corrected himself.
“Locked out.”
Rachel went silent.
“How long?”
“About two hours.”
“What?”
Lucy flinched.
Rachel immediately lowered her voice.
“Sorry, honey. I’m not yelling at you.”
Lucy said, “I spilled juice.”
Rachel stared into the screen.
Then at Daniel.
The look between siblings was almost twenty years old.
It meant: Do not say the thing you are about to say.
Rachel said, “Juice washes out.”
Lucy nodded.
“Grandma said Mr. Trent’s pants cost more than our car.”
Rachel blinked.
Daniel looked at his daughter.
“She said what?”
Lucy shrugged.
“She said he would remember me as the sticky little girl.”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“Did she call you that?”
“No. She said he would.”
Daniel stood.
He walked to the window.
Outside, snow moved in thin lines across the resort lights.
Rachel said, “Dan.”
He did not turn.
“When did this start?”
Silence.
Lucy brushed the rabbit again.
Daniel turned back.
“What do you mean?”
Rachel’s expression said she did not appreciate the question.
“You think Mom invented this tonight?”
Daniel sat.
Rachel continued, “Lucy has been weird about food at Mom’s house for months.”
“What?”
“She asked me at Thanksgiving if rolls counted as seconds.”
Daniel stared at her.
Rachel looked toward Lucy, realized the conversation had gone too far, and changed course.
“Hey, Luce, will you show me the gift?”
Lucy looked at the wrapped box.
“I haven’t opened it.”
“Why not?”
Lucy looked at Daniel.
He said, “Because we haven’t gotten there yet.”
Rachel smiled.
“Well, I vote opening.”
Lucy shook her head.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow it is.”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
“Can I talk to your dad for a minute?”
Lucy said, “You’re going to swear.”
Rachel gasped.
“I would never.”
“You do.”
“I have been slandered.”
Lucy carried the rabbit into the bathroom and closed the door with exaggerated dignity.
Daniel heard the faucet start.
Rachel waited.
“What the hell?”
Daniel stared at the carpet.
“You knew?”
“I knew Mom was being Mom.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“No. I did not know she was withholding meals.”
“You said Lucy was weird about food.”
“She asked questions. I thought Mom was doing that thing where she makes everyone dress for dinner and corrects table manners.”
“What thing?”
Rachel’s eyes hardened.
“Oh, come on.”
“No. Tell me.”
“She used to do it to us.”
Daniel looked away.
Images arrived without invitation.
His mother removing his dinner plate when he was fourteen because he had called a senator who attended their house “Bob” instead of “Senator.”
Rachel being sent upstairs during Christmas dinner for rolling her eyes at an uncle.
Daniel standing in the kitchen after midnight eating cold stuffing from aluminum foil.
He had not thought of those memories as hunger.
He had thought of them as childhood.
“That was different,” he said.
Rachel stared at him.
Then she laughed in disbelief.
“There you are.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re doing it already.”
“Doing what?”
“Explaining her.”
“I’m not explaining anything.”
“You literally just said it was different.”
Daniel stood again.
He had never been able to sit during arguments with Rachel. Even as children, she planted herself. He moved.
“She’s six.”
“I know.”
“She was eating garbage off a service cart.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know. You weren’t there.”
Rachel’s face softened.
“No. I wasn’t.”
Daniel pressed his thumb against his forehead.
“I was late.”
“This is not about you being late.”
“I should have been there.”
“Yes, you should have.”
He looked at the phone.
Rachel did not rescue him from it.
She never had.
She said, “And Mom should not have locked your kid out of dinner.”
May you like
Both things sat there.
Daniel hated how much relief it gave him.
