Chương 5
June opened her eyes.
“Hey, Junebug,” he whispered.
Nora hated that tenderness did not disappear just because she needed clarity.
Wesley sat on the sofa. Thomas remained in the kitchen, visible but occupied with a drawer that had not required repair until that moment.
“I’m sorry,” Wesley said.
Nora did not answer.
“I should have stopped her.”
“Yes.”
“I should have left with you.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t understand what was happening.”
“You saw the collar.”
“I saw it on the tray before the guests came in. Mom said it was part of a joke about the family dogs. I thought she was going to make some stupid comment and put it away.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Did you know she planned to make a joke about June?”
He looked down at the baby.
“She said she wanted to welcome her into the family.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No. I didn’t know the exact joke.”
“The exact joke.”
“I’m not defending it.”
“You keep choosing words that make it smaller.”
Wesley’s jaw tightened. “What do you want me to say, Nora? That my mother is a monster? Is that the line that fixes this?”
“No.”
“Because I’ll say she was cruel. She was. I’ll say I failed you. I did. But you keep looking at me like I put that thing around June’s neck.”
“You stood there while she tried.”
“I froze.”
“You turned toward your mother when I left.”
“She said my name.”
Nora laughed once. It sounded harsher than she intended.
Wesley looked toward the kitchen.
“Could we have some privacy?”
“No.”
“This is between us.”
“Your mother made it public.”
“Your father is listening.”
Thomas called from the kitchen, “I’m not enjoying it.”
Nora closed her eyes briefly.
Wesley stroked June’s cheek with one finger.
“I want you to come home,” he said.
“To which home?”
“Ours.”
“The house your mother enters whenever she wants?”
“I’ll change the locks.”
“She has the security code.”
“I’ll change that too.”
“She pays the property taxes.”
His mouth tightened.
The house in Eastover had been a wedding gift from the Pembroke family trust. Nora’s name was on the deed, but Margaret had referred to it as Wesley’s house from the day they moved in. Whenever Nora changed something—a rug, a paint color, a set of kitchen stools—Margaret noticed.
“We can stay somewhere else,” Wesley said.
“With what money?”
“I have money.”
“You have access to money controlled by the family office.”
“I have my salary.”
“You told me your salary goes into the joint account.”
“It does.”
Nora heard the hesitation after the word.
“Show me.”
Wesley looked up.
“Show you what?”
“The joint account.”
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
“Open it.”
“I left my phone in the car because your lawyer told me to.”
“Use mine.”
He stared at her.
June made a small sound between them.
Nora did not move.
Finally Wesley said, “There was a transfer.”
“How much?”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“How much?”
“Forty thousand.”
The room became strangely ordinary. The air conditioner clicked on. A truck shifted gears outside. Thomas stopped pretending to repair the drawer.
“From where to where?” Nora asked.
“The joint savings account to a temporary family office account.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Three weeks earlier, Nora had been eleven days postpartum. She had spent one entire night crying because June would not latch and Nora’s body felt like unfamiliar equipment. Wesley had held her in the dark and told her they were a team.
“Why?”
“My mother said the market was unstable and she could move it into a better short-term position.”
“Without asking me.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When you were sleeping more than ninety minutes at a time.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“It was a transfer authorization.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Nora looked at him.
Wesley shifted June against his chest. “There were estate documents after she was born. Beneficiary updates. Standard things.”
“What things?”
“I don’t remember every page.”
“You signed documents about our daughter and don’t remember them?”
“My mother’s attorney prepared them. It was about the trust.”
“What trust?”
“The Pembroke education and family trust. Every grandchild is included.”
“June is the only grandchild.”
“That doesn’t change what it is.”
“What did you give Margaret?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you authorize?”
Wesley’s face reddened. “Can we not interrogate me while I’m holding her?”
Nora stood and took June from his arms.
He resisted for half a second, then released the baby.
That half second frightened her more than if he had shouted.
“You need to leave,” she said.
“Nora.”
“Send every document you signed. Send the account records. Do not contact the family attorney before you send them.”
“I can’t access everything tonight.”
“Then start with what you can.”
“This is my child too.”
“Yes. Which is why I need to know what you did in her name.”
Wesley stood. He seemed ready to say something angry, but Thomas entered the living room holding a bent screwdriver.
“The visit is over,” Thomas said.
Wesley looked at him. “You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
“You’ve never liked me.”
“That’s true.”
“Dad,” Nora said.
Thomas lowered the screwdriver.
Wesley laughed without humor. “At least someone in this family admits what he thinks.”
He walked to the door, then turned.
“My mother was right about one thing,” he said. “You were waiting for a reason to leave.”
Nora held June closer.
Wesley’s face changed immediately, regret arriving before the sentence had finished settling.
He reached for the doorknob.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“You did when you said it.”
He left.
Thomas locked the door.
May you like
Nora stood in the living room, feeling June’s warm weight against her. Anger moved through her in clean, useful lines. Beneath it was something messier: shame that Wesley’s accusation had found a place to land.
During the last months of pregnancy, she had sometimes sat in her car outside their house after work, listening to the engine cool. She told herself she needed a quiet minute before going inside. She never asked why home required preparation.
