Chương 8
Lila handed him the crayon.
He drew no biological chart.
Instead, he extended one line from Nora to Lila.
Then he drew another from himself to Lila.
“They both connect to you.”
“What about Evan?”
“We can draw him if you want.”
“Do you want?”
“That’s up to you.”
She thought about it.
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Is that mean?”
“No.”
“What if I want later?”
“Then we draw him later.”
She nodded.
Adrian put the crayon down.
Lila picked it back up and drew another branch to Nora.
“What’s that one?”
“Mommy gets two because she died.”
He did not understand the logic.
It did not matter.
“All right.”
Lila colored for another minute.
Then she said, “Did you tell Uncle Travis sorry?”
Adrian looked at her.
“How did you know?”
“You said you were going to be good.”
“I did apologize.”
“For throwing Rudolph?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say sorry?”
“No.”
She kept coloring.
“Maybe he’s not ready.”
Adrian stared at the side of her face.
Children occasionally said things adults spent thousands of dollars in therapy trying to learn.
Then, five seconds later, she asked if fish could get bored.
Human wisdom had limits.
The following days did not produce a clean family war.
That would have been easier.
Instead, relatives behaved like relatives.
Some called Adrian privately to tell him Evelyn had been wrong but asked him not to “make them choose sides.”
Some said nothing.
His cousin Melissa sent Lila a stuffed fox without a note, apparently concluding another stuffed animal could solve something.
Aunt June mailed a handwritten apology directly to Lila.
It said:
I laughed before I understood what was happening. Then I stayed quiet when I should have said something. Both were wrong. I’m sorry.
Lila asked Adrian to read it twice.
Then she placed it in the drawer where she kept stickers.
She did not say whether she forgave June.
Evelyn sent a card.
I’m sorry you were upset on Christmas. Grandma loves you very much.
Adrian read it once and put it on the kitchen counter.
Lila stared at it.
“Is that a sorry?”
“No.”
“It says sorry.”
“It says she’s sorry you were upset.”
“That’s different?”
“Yes.”
Lila frowned.
“Grown-ups are weird.”
“Correct.”
“Are you going to throw the card?”
Adrian looked at her.
“No.”
“Good.”
He had sewn the reindeer’s antler twice.
The first repair came loose because his stitches were poor.
The second lasted.
Lila still inspected it every morning.
On December thirtieth, Adrian called Marcus Bell.
Marcus answered, “You finally killed one of them?”
“No.”
“Then I’m disappointed.”
Adrian leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I might be leaving Cole.”
A pause.
Marcus’s voice changed.
“You serious?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Family.”
“That narrows nothing.”
“I don’t want to get into it yet.”
“Fair.”
“I need to know what the market looks like.”
“You want another operations role?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I’ve been at the same company twelve years.”
“Eleven and change. You spent three years running jobs for Landry.”
“You remember too much.”
“I interviewed you once.”
“And didn’t hire me.”
“You wore a purple tie.”
“It was blue.”
“It was tragic.”
Adrian smiled despite himself.
Marcus told him there might be an opening in February.
Not a promise.
Not an executive title.
Probably less money.
More travel.
Adrian wrote everything down.
After the call, he sat alone at the kitchen table and looked at the numbers in his banking app.
Mortgage.
School tuition.
Insurance.
Savings.
Nora’s life insurance had paid off most of their debt except the house. Adrian had invested part of it and left more cash untouched than any financial adviser would have recommended because, after Nora died, money in an account had felt like the one emergency he could control.
He could leave Cole Residential.
But not dramatically.
Not by throwing a resignation letter onto Evelyn’s desk and walking into a better life.
He would need health coverage.
He would need a job.
He would need to understand what happened to his ownership stake.
He would need patience.
Adrian disliked patience more than he disliked most people.
He closed the app.
Upstairs, Lila shouted, “Daaaad!”
“What?”
“Rudolph is naked!”
Adrian looked at the ceiling.
“He’s always naked!”
“No, he has yarn!”
He went upstairs to investigate.
That evening, Evelyn called.
Adrian almost did not answer.
Then he saw Lila sitting on the rug ten feet away.
He stepped into the hallway and picked up.
“What?”
His mother was quiet.
No hello.
“I would like to see Lila.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for five days.”
“I’m her grandmother.”
“You remembered that too late.”
Evelyn inhaled slowly.
“I am not going to beg.”
“Good.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The part where you invent a worse motive for me because it makes yours easier.”
“I made a mistake.”
He opened his eyes.
It was the first time she had said the word.
“What mistake?”
“I should not have said it in front of everyone.”
“That’s one.”
“You want a list?”
“I want you to know what you did before I put her in a room with you again.”
“I told her a fact.”
“You weaponized a fact.”
“Adrian.”
“No.”
His voice rose.
Lila looked toward the hallway.
Adrian lowered it immediately.
“You took something private about my daughter and used it because you were angry at me about a business agreement.”
“That is not why.”
“June heard you before we arrived.”
Silence.
Adrian waited.
His mother said, “June has always enjoyed feeling morally superior.”
“Maybe. She also remembers sentences.”
“You’re making this uglier than it was.”
“No, Mom. I’m looking at it.”
Evelyn’s breathing changed.
For years Adrian had assumed his mother did not feel shame.
As he got older, he realized that was not true.
She felt it.
She simply experienced shame as an accusation other people were making against her.
“I loved Nora,” Evelyn said.
May you like
Adrian leaned against the wall.
“That’s not relevant.”
