Chương 6
“He was wrong.”
“Sometimes.”
The anger ebbed.
Not because Vance deserved immediate forgiveness.
Because Suzanne was tired.
“Go home, Edward.”
He nodded.
He stood and put on his raincoat.
At the door he stopped.
“The trust amendment is yours to revoke or change.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to decide anything today.”
“I know.”
He hesitated.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Matthew called.”
Suzanne looked at him.
“So am I.”
He accepted that.
After he left, she locked the door.
Then she bent and picked Brooke’s pen off the floor.
It had rolled beside Daniel’s chair.
Suzanne held it for a moment before placing it on the table.
At seven that evening, Matthew called.
She watched his name appear on her phone.
The screen went dark.
A minute later, a voicemail arrived.
She did not listen.
At seven fourteen, he called again.
At eight twenty-six, Brooke sent a text.
I’m sorry things became heated.
Suzanne read it twice.
Things.
As though the morning had been weather.
She put the phone face down.
At nine, she made toast.
At nine thirty, she opened the refrigerator and discovered the milk had expired.
At ten, she listened to Matthew’s voicemail.
“Mom. I don’t know what to say. I’m not calling about the trust. I know you won’t believe that right now, but I’m not. I should’ve told you I lost my job. I should’ve stopped this whole house thing before Brooke brought papers. I kept telling myself we were giving you options. That’s not what it was. Not really. I’m sorry. I’ll call tomorrow unless you tell me not to.”
There was a pause.
Then, quieter:
“And I didn’t know about her fee.”
The message ended.
Suzanne sat at the kitchen table.
Daniel’s old wall clock clicked behind her.
At eleven, she listened again.
The next morning, she drove to the grocery store.
She had nowhere else she needed to go, and routine felt useful.
In the produce aisle she stood in front of the cherries.
Eight dollars and forty-nine cents.
She put them in her cart.
Then she took them out.
Then she became annoyed with herself and put them back in.
An elderly man beside her looked over.
“Big decision?”
Suzanne stared at the cherries.
“You have no idea.”
He nodded as if this made perfect sense.
“My wife buys the Rainier ones. Says life’s short.”
“Is she right?”
“Usually. Irritating woman.”
Suzanne laughed.
The sound surprised her.
She bought the cherries.
At home, she ate six at the sink.
Her phone rang.
Matthew.
This time she answered.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Neither spoke.
Then Matthew said, “I’m in the car.”
“All right.”
“I’m not driving.”
“Good.”
Another pause.
“Can I come over?”
Suzanne looked at the living room.
The trust documents were still on the coffee table.
“No.”
He inhaled.
“Okay.”
“Meet me somewhere.”
“Anywhere.”
They chose a coffee shop in Ballard that Daniel used to dislike because the tables were too small.
Suzanne arrived first.
Matthew came in wearing yesterday’s gray sweater.
He had not shaved.
He saw her at the back table and stopped.
Suzanne lifted one hand.
He came over.
“Thanks for meeting me.”
She nodded toward the chair.
He sat.
A young woman with a laptop nearby was arguing softly into wireless earbuds about a presentation deck.
The espresso machine screamed.
Somebody dropped a spoon.
For several seconds mother and son said nothing.
Then Matthew looked at her cup.
“You still drink drip coffee in places that charge six dollars for coffee.”
“Mine was three.”
“Still.”
She almost told him Daniel used to say the same thing.
She did not.
Matthew rubbed his thumb over a scratch in the table.
“I talked to Brooke.”
Suzanne waited.
“She says the consulting payment wasn’t contingent on you selling.”
“Was it?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Mostly.”
Suzanne took a drink.
“Mostly is an interesting word.”
“She says part was for putting the deal together.”
“Matthew.”
“I know.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I know.”
The woman with the laptop said, “No, Kevin, that is literally the opposite of what we agreed,” and stood, taking her computer with her.
Matthew watched her leave.
“I miss office problems.”
Suzanne looked at him.
He gave a tired smile.
“That was a joke.”
“I know.”
“Bad one.”
“Also yes.”
He looked down.
The smile disappeared.
“I got laid off February third.”
“Why?”
“Reorganization.”
“Were you the only one?”
“No. Twenty-seven of us.”
“What have you been doing?”
“Applying.”
“How many?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe ninety.”
“Ninety?”
“Something like that.”
“Interviews?”
“Eleven first rounds. Four second. Two finals.”
“And?”
“And I am apparently very impressive right up until the exact moment somebody has to pay me.”
Suzanne heard the bitterness.
“Why are you behind on the mortgage if Brooke works?”
“Her income covers maybe half our monthly expenses.”
“What happened to your savings?”
“Mortgage. Insurance. Health coverage. Life.”
He looked at her.
“And we lived too high before. That part’s on us.”
Suzanne did not contradict him.
Matthew nodded, as if grateful.
“I had severance for eight weeks. I thought I’d have another job before it ran out.”
“When it didn’t?”
“I used cards.”
“Why?”
“Because I was an idiot.”
“That isn’t an explanation.”
He stared toward the front window.
“Because every time I thought about telling you, I heard Dad.”
Suzanne stiffened.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing recent.”
“Matthew.”
He sighed.
“When I dropped out of grad school, he told me a man who keeps needing rescue starts arranging his life around the rescue.”
Suzanne remembered.
She had been in the hallway.
Daniel had regretted it immediately.
“He apologized.”
“To you.”
“To you too.”
“Three weeks later.”
“Yes.”
Matthew picked at the paper sleeve around his cup.
“I know he loved me.”
Suzanne waited.
“But I also spent the next twenty years trying not to prove him right.”
There was no accusation in his voice.
That made it worse.
Suzanne looked at her son’s hands.
Daniel’s hands.
May you like
Same square fingers.
Same habit of pressing a thumbnail into the side of his index finger when anxious.
