Chương 3
“What else did she say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know.”
Emma’s eyes lifted.
Laura regretted the pressure immediately.
“Sorry. You don’t have to tell me right now.”
“She asked why I was touching it.”
“Okay.”
“I said Claire told us we could have some after pictures.”
“That was true.”
“And then she said I always touch things that aren’t mine.”
Laura went still.
Emma looked down again.
“I told her I didn’t mean to drop it.”
“How did it fall?”
Emma hesitated.
That hesitation changed the air inside the car.
Laura turned farther in her seat.
“Em?”
“I was cutting it.”
“With what?”
“The little silver thing.”
“A cake server?”
“I think.”
“Okay.”
“And Grandma took it.”
“Took what?”
“The silver thing.”
“From your hand?”
Emma nodded.
“She said I was doing it wrong. And then the plate went…” Emma moved both hands apart. “It slid.”
Laura watched her daughter.
“Did Grandma knock it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you drop the cake?”
Emma’s face folded—not into tears, but confusion.
“I thought I did.”
Laura sat back.
For several seconds there was only the wipers.
Then her phone began vibrating in the cup holder.
DAVID.
She declined it.
It rang again.
She declined that too.
A text arrived.
Please call me before you leave the property.
Laura stared at it.
Another followed.
Claire says Emma didn’t drop the cake.
Laura looked into the mirror.
Emma was watching her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s your lying voice.”
Despite everything, Laura almost smiled.
“I have a lying voice?”
“You make your mouth flat.”
Laura turned the phone facedown.
“Apparently I do.”
“Are we going home?”
They were staying at a small inn twelve minutes from the pavilion. Home was four hours south, in Westchester County, where Emma’s backpack sat beside the kitchen table and a half-finished papier-mâché solar system occupied most of the dining room.
“We’re going to the hotel first.”
“Can I change?”
“Absolutely.”
“My tights are wet.”
“I know.”
“And they itch.”
“I know that too.”
Laura finally pulled away from the pavilion.
For the first mile, Emma said nothing.
Then, as if the thought had been waiting behind more important ones, she asked, “Do you think they have hot chocolate?”
“At the inn?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know.”
“With marshmallows?”
“That seems ambitious.”
Emma leaned her forehead against the cool window.
Laura drove through the rain.
At the first traffic light, she looked down and realized there was chocolate frosting under one of her fingernails.
She scrubbed at it with her thumb until the light turned green.
The inn had hot chocolate.
It did not have marshmallows.
Emma accepted this disappointment with more grace than Margaret had accepted anything in the previous decade.
Upstairs, Laura helped her out of the pale blue dress and hung it over the shower rod because the hem was damp. Emma changed into leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with a faded drawing of a moon on the front.
Then she sat cross-legged on the bed with her hot chocolate.
Laura stood by the window and called David.
He answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“The inn.”
“Emma okay?”
“She’s drinking hot chocolate.”
“That wasn’t exactly my question.”
“It’s the answer I have.”
David exhaled.
In the background Laura heard voices, then a door closing.
“Claire saw what happened with the cake.”
Laura looked at Emma.
Emma was blowing across the top of her cup.
“What did she see?”
“She was coming back from photographs. She saw Mom take the cake server out of Emma’s hand.”
“And?”
“And the plate slid when Mom grabbed it.”
Laura closed her eyes.
“So Emma didn’t drop it.”
“Not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
“It means Claire thinks Emma had one hand on the plate, Mom pulled the server away, Emma startled, and the plate tipped.”
“Jesus.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Laura.”
“She blamed her.”
“I know.”
“She told an eight-year-old she ruined a cake that she helped knock over, and then she told her she didn’t belong in the family.”
David was quiet.
Laura lowered her voice.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No. I know Mom. That’s different.”
Laura turned toward the window.
Cars moved along the wet road below.
“She said something before we left.”
“What?”
“She said I was rewriting what happened because Emma was watching.”
David did not answer.
“David.”
“I heard her.”
“What did she mean?”
“You know what she meant.”
Laura laughed softly.
Emma looked over.
Laura walked into the bathroom and closed the door most of the way.
“No. I know which old accusation she was reaching for. I’m asking why she reached for it today.”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth would be interesting.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Your voice goes up when you lie.”
“My voice does not go up.”
“It just did.”
“Great. Apparently we’re a family of human polygraphs now.”
Laura leaned against the sink.
“Claire looked scared of her.”
Silence.
“David?”
“She’s always been intimidated by Mom.”
“That wasn’t intimidation.”
“What was it?”
“It was calculation.”
David breathed out.
Laura waited.
Finally he said, “Mom paid for the wedding.”
Laura looked at herself in the mirror.
“That’s not news.”
“No. But she paid for more than the wedding.”
“What does that mean?”
Another pause.
“Claire and Nathan’s apartment.”
Laura frowned.
“They rent.”
“Mom gave them the deposit. First year too.”
“How much?”
“Laura.”
“How much?”
“About sixty.”
“Thousand?”
“Yes.”
Laura stared at the sink.
“Why?”
“They needed help.”
“You have money.”
“Not sixty thousand in cash I can hand over without thinking about it.”
“And Mom can.”
“Yes.”
“What does that have to do with Emma?”
“I don’t know if it does.”
“David.”
“I’m telling you what I know.”
“You’re telling me the edges.”
He was silent.
Laura heard a knock through his phone.
Then Claire’s voice.
“Dad?”
David said, “One second.”
Laura waited.
When he came back, his voice had changed.
May you like
“Claire wants to talk to you.”
“Now?”
