Chương 4
Aunt June:
Nobody is skipping over anything. But maybe today is not the day.
Travis:
Today was apparently the day for a lot of things.
Their cousin Melissa:
I really think this conversation should be private.
Evelyn:
It was private until Adrian made a spectacle.
Adrian stared at that sentence for a long time.
He could still feel Lila’s body stiffening in his arms.
Another message appeared while he watched.
Travis:
For the record I’m fine. Not interested in making this bigger. I’d just like my brother to acknowledge that attacking people because they say something he dislikes is insane.
June:
It was a stuffed reindeer, Travis.
Travis:
Missing the point.
June:
Possibly enjoying the point.
That was June. Dry humor even when the building was burning.
Then Evelyn:
The point is Adrian has made everyone complicit in pretending biology is irrelevant because he cannot tolerate discomfort.
Adrian typed three different replies.
He deleted all of them.
The fourth was shorter.
Do not contact Lila. Do not discuss her parentage with anyone. I will talk to both of you after Christmas. Not tonight.
He sent it.
The typing indicator appeared under Evelyn’s name almost immediately.
Adrian locked the phone before her response arrived.
Behind him, Lila shifted in her sleep.
“Mommy,” she murmured.
Adrian closed his eyes.
He remained on the floor until his left leg went numb.
The next morning, he woke at 5:18 because he had forgotten to turn off his weekday alarm.
For a few seconds he did not remember Christmas.
Then he did.
Lila had climbed into his bed sometime after midnight. She slept sideways, one foot under his ribs, the reindeer pinned beneath her arm.
Adrian reached for his phone.
There were two missed calls from Evelyn.
One from Travis.
An email from his mother’s executive assistant had arrived at 11:43 the previous night.
Subject: Tuesday Partner Meeting.
Adrian opened it.
Evelyn requested his presence at nine the following morning at Cole Residential’s office.
No agenda attached.
He almost laughed.
Christmas had been on a Thursday. His mother had apparently found a way to turn family trauma into a calendar invitation before midnight.
Cole Residential occupied the third floor of a renovated textile building on the north side of the city. Adrian’s father had founded the company thirty-one years earlier with two employees, a pickup truck, and a talent for persuading wealthy homeowners that they needed to be patient.
By the time David Cole died, the firm designed and built custom houses across three counties.
Evelyn owned the largest share.
Travis ran sales and client development.
Adrian handled construction operations.
Forty-eight employees worked between the office and active sites.
For years, people had joked that the brothers had divided their father into two pieces. Travis got the charm. Adrian got the part that liked schedules.
Adrian had never found the joke especially funny.
His phone buzzed.
A new email.
From Evelyn this time.
Please do not bring family drama into the office tomorrow. We need to discuss the succession documents you have refused to sign.
Adrian sat up slowly.
Lila made an irritated noise beside him.
He reread the message.
The succession documents.
For six months, Evelyn and the company’s outside advisers had been trying to update their ownership agreements. Adrian had objected to one provision because, under certain circumstances, his stake would be forced back through the company instead of becoming value he could leave through his estate.
On paper, the rule applied equally to both brothers.
In practice, Travis had two biological sons.
Adrian had Lila.
He had asked for revisions.
Evelyn had called him sensitive.
Travis had called him exhausting.
The discussions stalled.
Three weeks before Christmas, Adrian had told them he would not sign the documents as written.
He had not connected that fight to yesterday.
Now he did.
He looked at Lila.
Her hair covered most of her face.
A bad possibility settled into him.
Evelyn’s explosion might not have been spontaneous.
He wished the thought felt paranoid.
Instead, it fit too easily.
Lila woke at seven and refused pancakes because they were “too breakfast.”
She requested macaroni and cheese.
Adrian told her macaroni and cheese was not a morning food.
She reminded him that cereal was occasionally a dinner food.
He had no answer to this.
She ate macaroni and cheese at 7:32 while wearing green pajamas and one of Adrian’s old T-shirts over them because she was cold.
The ordinary argument helped.
So did having to wipe powdered cheese off the floor after she dropped the spoon.
At eight, Adrian called Dr. Kendra Morales, the grief counselor Lila had seen on and off since Nora’s death.
He expected voicemail.
Kendra answered with a sleepy, “If this is an emergency, say emergency first.”
“It’s not an emergency.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You sound terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“That was an observation.”
He told her what happened.
Not elegantly.
He skipped the part where he threw the reindeer until the end.
There was a pause.
“You threw her comfort toy at your brother?”
“It was available.”
“That is a remarkably bad defense.”
“I know.”
“Was Lila frightened?”
“I don’t think of me.”
“You don’t get to know that by thinking.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“She saw it.”
“Then talk to her about it.”
“I already apologized.”
“To her?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Do it again when she brings it up.”
Adrian looked toward the kitchen.
Lila was making the reindeer “eat” pieces of macaroni.
“Kendra.”
“Yeah?”
“I told her.”
“All of it?”
“Enough.”
“How did she react?”
“She asked why everyone knew except her.”
Kendra was quiet.
Adrian hated quiet from professionals.
It always seemed expensive.
“She has a right to be angry with you,” Kendra said.
“I know.”
“She can also still feel safe with you. Those things can happen at the same time.”
He stared at Nora’s coffee mug on the drying rack.
May you like
It had been Lila’s idea to use it again.
For the first year after Nora died, Adrian had kept the mug in the back of a cabinet because seeing it hurt.
