Chương 2
This was different.
Rachel stood.
“Ethan, take her upstairs.”
Ethan reached for Sophie’s hand.
Vanessa laughed once.
It was a soft, disbelieving little sound.
“You’re turning this into something ridiculous.”
Rachel looked at her.
“What am I turning it into?”
“A joke that went wrong.”
“You poured a pitcher over her.”
“She was being rude.”
Helen closed her eyes.
Rachel turned to her mother-in-law.
“What happened?”
Helen opened them again.
“I think everybody should just calm down.”
There it was.
Rachel had heard those words from Helen through fifteen years of marriage, eighteen months of widowhood, two Christmases that should never have happened under one roof, and more family dinners than she could count.
Everybody should calm down.
Usually said when Vanessa had done something that required everyone else to absorb the damage quietly.
Rachel looked at Sophie.
“Upstairs.”
This time the child obeyed.
When she stood, punch ran from the folds of the dress onto the floor.
Ethan put a hand between her shoulder blades. They walked toward the hallway.
Vanessa called after them.
“Sophie, don’t be dramatic about it.”
Sophie flinched.
Rachel stepped between Vanessa and the hallway.
“Leave my house.”
Vanessa blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“This is Mom’s birthday dinner too.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I brought half the food.”
“Take it.”
“Rachel.”
“Take the food. Take your purse. Take whatever you brought. Leave.”
Vanessa gave Helen a look.
It lasted no more than a second, but Rachel saw it.
So did Helen.
Helen’s mouth tightened.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“You are doing exactly what you always do. Something happens, you decide what it means, and then everyone has to live inside your version of it.”
Rachel could hear Sophie’s wet dress brushing against the stairs.
She waited until the sound disappeared.
Then she said, “You have two minutes.”
Vanessa stared at her.
“You want to embarrass me in front of the children?”
Rachel almost laughed.
Instead she picked up the empty pitcher.
It was heavy even without the punch. Thick glass, part of a set Daniel had bought when they moved into the house because he said adults were apparently supposed to own things like matching pitchers.
Rachel put it in the sink.
“I’m not discussing embarrassment with you.”
Helen stepped forward.
“Rachel, please.”
“No.”
“Vanessa shouldn’t have done that.”
Vanessa’s head snapped toward her mother.
Helen continued quickly, “But Sophie can be sensitive, and this has already gotten out of hand.”
Rachel studied her.
“Already?”
Helen looked toward the stairs.
“What does that mean?”
“It means she’s upset.”
“She should be.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Helen’s lips pressed together.
Rachel looked between them.
The refrigerator seemed loud now that it had started again.
Something about the room felt wrong in a way that had nothing to do with the punch.
Not just what Vanessa had done.
The way Helen was avoiding Rachel’s eyes.
The way Vanessa was not asking what Ethan had recorded.
The way Ethan had said not the worst thing.
Rachel walked to the bottom of the stairs.
“Ethan?”
His head appeared at the landing.
“Yeah?”
“Bring me the tablet.”
Vanessa moved.
It was not much. Half a step toward the stairs.
Rachel saw it.
“So now you want to interrogate him?”
“I want his tablet.”
“He doesn’t know the context.”
Rachel looked at her.
“What context makes pouring punch on a seven-year-old reasonable?”
“I said it was a joke.”
“You said she was rude.”
“Both can be true.”
Helen rubbed her forehead.
“Can we please not do this right now?”
Ethan came downstairs alone.
He held the tablet with both hands.
Rachel met him near the hallway.
“Where’s Sophie?”
“In your bathroom. I gave her the blue pajamas.”
“At two in the afternoon?”
“She wanted them.”
Rachel nodded.
“Okay.”
He handed her the tablet.
Vanessa picked up her purse from the back of a chair.
“You know what? Fine. Play it. Go ahead. Let him show you his little spy movie.”
Ethan stared at the floor.
Rachel noticed his bare toes curling against the edge of the rug. He had taken his sneakers off after coming inside that morning, despite being told not to because they were expecting guests.
The ordinary disobedience nearly broke something in her.
She touched his shoulder.
“Did you record Aunt Vanessa without telling her?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
His eyes moved toward Helen.
Helen looked away.
Ethan said, “Because Sophie told me something yesterday.”
Vanessa sighed.
“Oh, Jesus.”
Rachel’s head turned.
“Don’t.”
Vanessa lifted her hands.
“Fine.”
Rachel looked back at Ethan.
“What did she tell you?”
“She said Aunt Vanessa told her you didn’t really want the party.”
Rachel felt the first cold thread of fear move through the anger.
“When?”
“Yesterday. When Grandma took me to soccer.”
Helen looked up.
Rachel stared at her.
“You took Ethan to soccer?”
Helen nodded.
“You told me Vanessa wasn’t here yesterday.”
“I forgot she stopped by.”
Vanessa made a quiet scoffing sound.
Rachel ignored her.
Ethan said, “Sophie said Aunt Vanessa told her you only did the party because Grandma paid for it.”
“I didn’t say that exactly,” Vanessa said.
Rachel raised one finger without looking at her.
Vanessa went silent.
Rachel crouched to Ethan’s height.
“What else did Sophie say?”
“That you get tired of her.”
Rachel did not move.
Ethan’s face crumpled for half a second before he forced it flat.
“She said Aunt Vanessa told her sometimes moms get tired of the difficult kid first.”
Helen whispered, “Oh, God.”
Vanessa’s voice sharpened.
“That was a conversation about behavior. She was having a tantrum.”
Rachel stood.
“She is seven.”
“She understands more than you think.”
“That doesn’t help you.”
“I was trying to get through to her because nobody in this house tells her no.”
Rachel looked at the tablet.
Her thumb rested over the video thumbnail.
Twelve minutes and forty-three seconds.
She could play it now.
Part of her did not want to.
May you like
The realization embarrassed her.
She wanted the situation to be exactly as bad as what she had already seen. A monstrous two-minute lapse. A cruel impulse. Something Vanessa could never repeat because Rachel would never leave her alone with Sophie again.
