Part 2
Claire turned toward her.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
Nora’s face went still.
Daniel heard the sentence in the polished room and understood, suddenly, how often it might have been said when he was not present.
“You are now,” he said.
Claire looked back at him.
Daniel waited.
Nora glanced down at Sophie before answering.
“She had been working on the picture since breakfast. She wanted to surprise both of you. When Ms. Whitmore told her it could not go on the table, Sophie asked where she could put it. Ms. Whitmore said nowhere the guests would see.”
“That is not what I said.”
Nora continued as if Claire had not interrupted.
“Sophie asked whether the picture embarrassed her. Ms. Whitmore told her today was important and she needed to stop making everything about herself.”
Claire’s false calm broke at the edges.
“She was crying loudly. The photographer had to leave the room.”
Sophie’s face disappeared into Nora’s shoulder again.
Daniel looked at the photographer’s equipment near the far console: a camera bag, a folded reflector, a small box of lenses. No photographer.
“What happened next?” he asked.
Nora swallowed.
“Sophie said she wanted you.”
Claire said, “And I told her you were busy.”
Nora’s eyes flicked toward her.
Daniel noticed.
“What else?” he asked.
No one answered.
He folded the drawing once along an existing crease and placed it inside his jacket.
“What else did you say?”
Claire’s arms dropped to her sides.
“I told her that if she could not behave for one day, she could stay upstairs with Nora.”
Sophie spoke into Nora’s shoulder.
“You said Daddy would be happier.”
The air in the foyer seemed to contract.
Claire looked at the child.
“I said your father would be happier if you calmed down.”
“No.” Sophie’s voice shook. “You said happier if I wasn’t there.”
Claire’s expression did not change quickly enough.
Daniel saw the pause.
It was no more than a second, perhaps less. He had negotiated business contracts in which millions of dollars turned on pauses that short. A person deciding whether to deny. A person searching for the safest version of the truth.
“Did you say that?” he asked.
Claire’s gaze returned to him.
“She misunderstood.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“She is five.”
“You keep saying that as though it makes her less reliable and not more vulnerable.”
Claire took a slow breath.
“I told her that the day would be easier if she rested upstairs. She turned it into something else because she was already emotional.”
Sophie began crying harder, still quietly, as if even now she feared taking up too much sound.
Daniel knelt beside her again.
“You’re not going upstairs because you’re in trouble,” he said.
She did not look at him.
“You can go somewhere quiet if you want. Or you can stay here. You can wear the blue dress, pajamas, or nothing but a blanket. The wedding does not matter more than you.”
Claire released a short breath behind him.
Daniel ignored it.
“Do you want to stay with Nora?”
Sophie nodded.
“Where?”
“My room.”
“All right.”
Nora shifted as if preparing to stand, but Daniel touched her forearm.
“One minute.”
He looked at Sophie.
“I need you to tell me something. Has Claire said things like this before?”
Sophie’s fingers clutched the black trim of Nora’s uniform.
Claire stepped forward.
“Daniel, absolutely not. You are not interrogating a child in the middle of the foyer.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“I’m asking whether my daughter feels safe in her home.”
“You’re frightening her.”
“She was frightened before I arrived.”
Claire’s face flushed.
Nora stood, lifting Sophie with her. The girl was getting too large to carry easily, but she wrapped her legs around Nora’s waist and held tight.
“Mr. Mercer,” Nora said quietly, “this may be better upstairs.”
The formality of his name unsettled him. Nora had called him Daniel for years, except in front of guests or when something was wrong.
He nodded.
“Take her to my bedroom. Lock the door if she wants it locked. I’ll come up.”
Nora hesitated.
“What?”
Her eyes moved to Claire and back.
“Nothing.”
“Nora.”
She shifted Sophie higher.
“I don’t think Ms. Whitmore should come upstairs.”
Claire stared at her.
Daniel felt a cold pressure behind his ribs.
“She won’t.”
Nora carried Sophie toward the staircase.
Claire said, “This is absurd.”
Sophie flinched at the sound of her voice.
Daniel turned.
Claire stood beneath the chandelier in her white satin gown. The draped neckline lay perfectly. Her blonde hair had been gathered into a low bun, not a strand out of place. Her engagement ring flashed as she lifted one hand.
“You have decided I’m guilty of something because a tired child is crying.”
“I haven’t decided what you’re guilty of.”
“Listen to yourself.”
“I am.”
Nora reached the upper landing. Sophie watched Daniel over her shoulder until they disappeared into the hall.
He waited for a door to close.
Then he said, “The ceremony is delayed.”
Claire looked as if she had misheard him.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel.”
He walked toward the console table and removed his wristwatch. The metal band clicked against the marble top beside a silver-framed engagement photograph.
Claire followed him.
“We are supposed to be outside in thirty-five minutes.”
“I know.”
“My parents are already here.”
“I know.”
“One hundred and twenty people are coming.”
“I know.”
“You cannot stop the wedding every time Sophie has a difficult feeling.”
Daniel looked at her.
“That sentence tells me more than you think.”
Claire’s lips parted.
He picked up the framed photograph. It showed the two of them at a museum gala the previous winter. Claire wore red. Daniel’s arm rested around her waist. They looked calm, wealthy, and certain. Sophie was not in it because children had not been invited.
He set it down.
“Why wasn’t her drawing allowed on this table?”
May you like
Claire stared at him.
“Because the photographer was taking detail shots.”
