Chương 11
Ethan picked pepperoni off his slice and stacked the pieces in a tower.
Michael watched him.
“You know those are edible.”
“I don’t like them.”
“You ordered pepperoni.”
“I like the flavor they leave.”
Michael opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Claire smiled into her soda.
Margaret removed one piece of pepperoni from her own slice and put it on Ethan’s plate.
He stared at her.
“You don’t like it either?”
“I like it perfectly well.”
“Then why’d you give it to me?”
“You appear to be building something.”
He accepted this.
Michael looked at Claire.
“Do you always have conversations like this?”
“Pretty much.”
Margaret wiped her fingers with a napkin.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you stay?”
Claire looked at the clock.
It was after seven.
She had not noticed.
“I guess I forgot to leave.”
“That is not financially responsible.”
Claire laughed.
Margaret’s face shifted.
“I’m serious.”
“I know. That’s why it’s funny.”
Michael looked at his mother.
“Pay her overtime.”
“I intended to.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because I enjoy hearing you agree with me.”
Margaret looked at Ethan.
“This is where he gets it.”
Ethan did not look up from his pepperoni tower.
“Gets what?”
“Nothing.”
At eight thirty Claire finally left.
Michael walked her to the front doors.
The scuff from the orange bucket had already been polished from the marble.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For listening to him.”
She almost said that she had not.
Instead she said, “Eventually.”
Michael nodded.
“That word is doing a lot of work today.”
Claire adjusted her bag.
“Don’t turn it into a big lesson.”
“What?”
“This morning.”
He frowned.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Yes, you were.”
“How do you know?”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The dad-who’s-about-to-learn-something face.”
He laughed.
Claire continued. “He doesn’t need a speech about how he was brave and adults should listen to children.”
“Why not?”
“Because tomorrow he’ll tell you there’s a dinosaur under the deck.”
“He has said that.”
“Exactly.”
Michael looked back toward the staircase.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Listen long enough to find out whether it’s a dinosaur or a shoe.”
He considered that.
“That’s annoyingly reasonable.”
“Good night, Mr. Hale.”
“Michael.”
“Good night, Michael.”
She reached the door.
“Claire.”
She turned.
His expression had changed.
“Did my mother really suspect you?”
Claire could have protected Margaret.
She did not.
“Yes.”
Michael looked angry.
“She apologized.”
That surprised him.
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“Voluntarily?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He smiled.
Claire drove home with the radio off.
At a red light, she noticed dried marble dust on the knee of her navy uniform and rubbed at it with her thumb.
It did not come out.
The following morning she almost called in sick.
Not because she was frightened of the house.
Because she had no desire to become important there.
Importance in wealthy families came with expectations. Loyalty became intimacy, intimacy became obligation, and eventually someone asked you to carry a secret that had never belonged to you.
At seven twelve, Claire parked in the employee lot anyway.
The mansion looked exactly as it always had.
That irritated her.
Inside, Ethan was sitting on the foyer floor beside the orange bucket.
Claire stopped.
He looked up.
“Why is that there?”
“I asked for it.”
“You asked for the cleaning bucket?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He pointed to the polished spot where it had struck the staircase.
“I’m practicing not kicking it.”
Claire stared at him.
“That is a very specific skill.”
“I’m using words.”
“Excellent.”
He looked at the bucket.
“Don’t clean the truck.”
Claire looked at the black toy truck beside it.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“See?”
“See what?”
“I used words.”
She smiled.
“Outstanding progress.”
Margaret appeared on the stairs.
She wore gray that morning.
No burgundy.
Ethan looked up.
“Your shoes match.”
Margaret stopped.
Then she looked down at her black pumps.
“So they do.”
She descended.
“Claire, I need to speak with you.”
Claire braced herself.
Margaret noticed.
“You are not being fired.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You made a face.”
“So did you yesterday.”
Margaret almost smiled.
“Come with me.”
They went into the morning room.
A check lay on the table.
Claire saw the amount and stepped back.
“No.”
Margaret lifted an eyebrow.
“No?”
“That’s too much.”
“It represents overtime plus a discretionary bonus.”
“For doing my job?”
“For preventing evidence destruction.”
“Ethan did that.”
“He is six. I am not giving him a check.”
“You could put money in his college account.”
“I already put money in his college account.”
“Of course you do.”
Margaret pushed the check toward Claire.
She did not take it.
“Is this because you suspected me?”
“No.”
“Because if it is, I don’t want apology money.”
Margaret’s face sharpened.
“It is not apology money.”
“What is apology money?”
“I don’t know. You introduced the phrase.”
Claire folded her arms.
Margaret looked at the check, then at her.
“All right. Half is overtime and additional hours. That is not negotiable. The remainder is compensation for your cooperation during a security incident outside the scope of your ordinary duties.”
“You sound like a contract.”
“I have spent considerable money on lawyers.”
“That explains a lot.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed.
Claire realized she had gone too far.
Then Margaret said, “Unfortunately.”
Claire took the check.
“Thank you.”
“There is something else.”
Of course there was.
Margaret sat.
“Celia has retained counsel.”
Claire waited.
“The foundation’s board is convening tomorrow. I am temporarily stepping aside as chair while the Hartwell matter is reviewed.”
Claire had not expected that.
“How do you feel?”
Margaret looked offended by the question.
Then tired.
“Angry.”
“At Celia?”
“At myself.”
“That wasn’t one of the choices.”
“I was not aware you had provided choices.”
Claire sat across from her.
May you like
Margaret removed her glasses and cleaned one lens with the edge of a linen napkin.
“I cannot decide whether I betrayed a woman who worked for me for nineteen years by not knowing her husband had died, or whether she betrayed me by allowing me not to know.”
