Chương 7
The bagged pink toothbrush.
The note from the cake box.
Margaret looked at the toothbrush.
Her expression gave her away.
Daniel saw it.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
Margaret sat down.
“I told you—”
“Don’t.”
His voice stopped her.
Laura had rarely heard Daniel use that tone.
He pulled out a chair but did not sit.
“I need you to answer the question.”
Margaret folded her hands.
“Sophie left it here during my surgery recovery.”
Laura said, “No.”
Margaret looked at her.
“It came from my guest bathroom.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I bought the pack.”
“That proves nothing.”
“I found the matching green toothbrush under the sink.”
Margaret glanced away.
Laura felt a cold satisfaction.
Then she hated that too.
She did not want to win this way.
She wanted the truth to be less ugly.
Daniel sat.
“You took it from our house.”
Margaret looked at him.
“I was there as your mother, after surgery, and yes, I may have put it in my toiletry bag by mistake.”
Laura said, “You accidentally took one child’s toothbrush and later used it for a paternity test.”
Margaret’s eyes flashed.
“I used what I had.”
“Why?”
“We have discussed why.”
“No,” Laura said. “We have discussed your excuse.”
Margaret looked toward the family room.
Cartoon voices drifted down the hall.
Laura lowered her voice.
“Why did you tell Sophie the test was negative after you knew it was positive?”
Margaret stared at the table.
Daniel said, “Mom.”
She stood.
“I will not be interrogated in my son’s house.”
Laura said, “My house too.”
Margaret turned.
“That attitude is part of the problem.”
Laura almost smiled.
“There it is.”
Daniel said, “Sit down.”
Margaret stared at him.
He did not look away.
After several seconds, she sat.
“I had concerns long before the trust,” she said.
Laura waited.
Margaret continued.
“You and Daniel were separated around the time Sophie was conceived.”
Laura’s back stiffened.
Daniel said, “For three weeks.”
“Twenty-six days.”
Laura looked at Margaret.
“You counted?”
“I remember.”
“Of course you do.”
Margaret ignored her.
“You were staying with a friend.”
“My sister.”
“You were seen with someone.”
Laura stared.
Daniel looked confused.
“Who?”
Margaret hesitated.
“An old boyfriend.”
Laura felt anger rise so quickly she almost stood.
Then a memory interrupted it.
A restaurant.
Rain on the windows.
Her former college boyfriend, Nathan, sitting across from her because he had happened to be in town and Laura was lonely and furious at Daniel.
They had eaten dinner.
Nothing happened.
She had told Daniel about it later.
Not because there was anything to confess.
Because she did not want secrets.
Daniel’s face changed.
“You mean Nathan?”
Margaret looked surprised.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
Laura watched something collapse quietly in Margaret’s reasoning.
Not enough to stop her.
“I did not.”
“That seems to be a recurring issue,” Laura said.
Margaret looked at her.
“You were separated. You had dinner with a man you once loved. Eight months later, Sophie was born.”
“Nine months.”
“Close enough.”
“No,” Laura said. “Not in this context.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, Nathan lived in Seattle.”
“I know where he lived.”
“Laura had dinner with him once.”
“That is what she told you.”
Laura leaned back.
There was almost nothing she could say to that kind of accusation because it fed on its own lack of evidence.
Margaret continued.
“Your father had doubts.”
Daniel looked up.
“Did he tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Margaret hesitated.
“After Sophie was born.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“He said the timing was unfortunate.”
Daniel laughed once.
“That sounds like Dad.”
Margaret frowned.
“It wasn’t a joke.”
“He thought most things were a joke.”
“He was concerned.”
“Did he tell me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he didn’t want to hurt you.”
Daniel stared at her.
Laura saw the old mechanism working.
A dead man could not contradict her.
Margaret could borrow his authority forever.
Daniel said, “What else did he say?”
“That Sophie did not resemble you.”
“Dad said Sophie looked like Winston Churchill when she was born.”
Laura almost smiled despite herself.
Margaret’s face tightened.
“He was trying to be kind.”
“No. He thought newborns were funny-looking.”
“He had private concerns.”
“Did he write them down?”
Margaret looked at him sharply.
Laura saw it.
So did Daniel.
He leaned forward.
“Did he?”
Margaret stood again.
“This is absurd.”
Daniel remained seated.
“Mom.”
“I have said enough.”
“No. You just reacted to a question.”
She gathered her handbag.
Laura said, “Was there something in Charles’s papers?”
Margaret froze.
The silence lasted too long.
Laura stood.
“What was it?”
“Nothing.”
Daniel rose too.
“Mom.”
Margaret’s hand tightened around the bag strap.
“There was a note.”
Laura felt the room narrow.
“What note?”
“Something your father wrote years ago.”
Daniel’s face went blank.
“About Sophie?”
Margaret looked toward the family room again.
Laura stepped between her and the hallway.
“Don’t look at her.”
Margaret’s eyes returned to Laura.
“What did the note say?”
“It expressed concern about inheritance.”
Daniel sat down slowly.
Laura did not.
“Where is it?”
“At home.”
“Bring it.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it is private.”
“About my child.”
“It is part of your father’s estate papers.”
Daniel said, “Then I have a right to see it.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
“Apparently I’ve had no idea what I’m involved in for years.”
Margaret flinched.
That was the first thing Daniel said that seemed to reach her.
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she sat again.
“Your father was afraid you would leave me alone.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
The sentence was so different from everything before it that Laura thought she had misheard.
Margaret looked at her hands.
“When he got sick the first time.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
Charles had experienced an arrhythmia scare three years before his death.
Nothing dramatic had followed.
Medication.
Monitoring.
May you like
Lifestyle changes he mostly ignored.
Margaret said, “He became concerned about what would happen after he died.”
