Chương 9
“Is three greedy?”
“No.”
“Grandma says taking more than you need is greedy.”
“Sometimes.”
“Do I need candy?”
“No.”
She waited.
Daniel sighed.
“You can want something without needing it.”
Lucy looked at the candy bar.
Then at him.
“Do you want coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need it?”
Rachel, standing behind them, said, “He thinks he does.”
Daniel put the candy bar on the counter.
Lucy smiled.
They reached Denver after two.
Home looked exactly as Daniel had left it the previous day.
Lucy’s purple backpack sat by the stairs.
A cereal bowl was still in the dishwasher because he had forgotten to run it.
One of her mittens lay under the entry table.
Daniel stood in the kitchen and felt absurdly grateful for the mess.
Rachel opened the refrigerator.
“You have no food.”
“I have food.”
“You have mustard, eggs, and six kinds of sparkling water.”
“There’s pasta.”
“Dry pasta is a concept.”
Lucy carried her gift into the living room.
“Can I open it now?”
Daniel leaned against the kitchen island.
“Of course.”
She tore the paper carefully at first.
Then abandoned discipline and ripped through the middle.
Inside was a boxed miniature planetarium projector she had circled in a toy catalog months earlier and then forgotten about.
Her face lit.
“You remembered!”
Daniel smiled.
“Yeah.”
She hugged the box.
Then she looked at him.
“I’m sorry you dropped it.”
“I dropped it.”
“I know.”
“So why are you sorry?”
She shrugged.
Daniel waited.
Lucy looked down.
“Grandma says presents cost money.”
Rachel closed the refrigerator harder than necessary.
Daniel crouched.
“Lucy.”
“What?”
“When somebody gives you a present, you should try to take care of it.”
She nodded.
“But you don’t have to protect me from feeling bad if I drop it.”
Her forehead wrinkled.
“That’s weird.”
“Probably.”
“Are grown-ups supposed to protect kids?”
“Yes.”
“Kids don’t protect grown-ups?”
“Sometimes you can help us. But you’re not responsible for our feelings.”
Lucy looked toward Rachel.
“Aunt Rachel’s feelings are loud.”
Rachel pointed at herself.
“My feelings are elegant.”
Lucy laughed.
Daniel smiled.
He wished the lesson had ended there.
It did not.
The first email from independent board counsel arrived at 3:17 p.m.
The board had scheduled an emergency executive session for Monday morning.
Daniel was instructed to preserve all communications related to the event and not to contact resort employees about testimony.
Evelyn had retained personal counsel.
By five, three donors had called.
Daniel answered none.
At six twelve, Walter Trent called directly.
Daniel nearly rejected it.
Rachel, chopping onions in his kitchen because she had decided they were all eating chili, said, “If you don’t answer, he’ll call again.”
Daniel answered.
“Walter.”
“Daniel.”
The older man sounded uncomfortable.
“I heard there was some trouble after I left.”
Daniel looked at Lucy, who was arranging plastic planets on the living-room carpet.
“There was.”
“I want to clear something up.”
Daniel waited.
“The girl spilled juice on me.”
“Lucy.”
“Yes. Lucy.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
Walter continued, “She apologized immediately.”
That mattered.
“What happened after?”
“Evelyn took her away.”
“Did you know where?”
“No. I assumed to change clothes or calm down or whatever children do.”
“She locked her out of the ballroom for two hours.”
Silence.
“I didn’t know that.”
“She refused to let staff feed her.”
Another silence.
Walter cleared his throat.
“Daniel, I’m sorry.”
Daniel had imagined hating the donor.
The reality was less satisfying.
Walter sounded like an old man who had gotten juice on expensive trousers and gone back to his table.
“Did Lucy embarrass you?”
“What?”
“My mother says she humiliated you.”
Walter gave a short laugh.
“Daniel, I have four grandchildren. Last Christmas one of them vomited on a bishop.”
Daniel leaned against the counter.
Rachel stopped chopping onions.
Walter said, “I was annoyed for about thirty seconds. Evelyn was more upset than I was.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She said Lucy needed to learn that actions have consequences.”
Daniel looked at his daughter.
“Was Lucy running around?”
“A little.”
“After being told to stop?”
“I assume so. I wasn’t supervising her.”
“Did she spill the juice intentionally?”
“No.”
“Did she knock into you?”
“No. She backed into a server carrying glasses. The server moved. I moved the wrong direction. The glass tipped.”
Daniel’s hand tightened around the phone.
“So it wasn’t entirely her fault.”
“It was a six-year-old near a table. I don’t know how to assign liability.”
Rachel mouthed, Serious pants.
Daniel almost laughed.
Walter continued, “I should also tell you something else.”
“What?”
“Your mother called me this morning.”
Daniel straightened.
“She asked whether I would confirm that Lucy was out of control.”
“And?”
“I said I would confirm that she spilled juice.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. She’s angry.”
“That makes two of us.”
Walter hesitated.
“I’ve known Evelyn thirty years.”
“I know.”
“She can be hard.”
Daniel said nothing.
Walter corrected himself.
“That sounds too polite.”
“It does.”
“I’m not joining a campaign against your mother.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know. I’m saying it because people are already choosing sides, and I don’t want you mistaking factual support for personal allegiance.”
Daniel respected him more for that sentence than for the donation checks his name appeared on.
“Understood.”
After the call, Rachel resumed cutting onions.
“He sounds less awful than expected.”
“He’s still the kind of person who owns pants my mother thinks cost more than my car.”
“You drive a Volvo.”
“Exactly.”
Lucy looked up from the carpet.
“What’s a bishop?”
Rachel said, “A very patient man at Christmas.”
Monday’s board meeting began at eight in the foundation’s downtown office.
Daniel had not been there since Friday.
The conference room smelled like coffee and dry-erase marker.
Nine board members attended in person. Four joined by video.
Evelyn sat at the far end of the table.
She wore navy.
Not emerald.
No pearls.
May you like
Daniel noticed that and hated himself for noticing.
Independent counsel, a woman named Sonia Patel, sat between them.
