Part 4
She asked whether he thought the painting behind the stage was ugly.
He said yes.
She said, “Good. Everyone here is pretending otherwise.”
He laughed for the first time in weeks.
Later, when he apologized for leaving early because Sophie’s bedtime had become difficult, Claire said, “Then go home.”
No guilt. No disappointment.
He had mistaken the absence of demand for the absence of need.
“I need to talk to Sophie,” he said.
Claire stepped in front of him.
“And then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do not say that.”
“It’s true.”
“We have a ceremony in half an hour.”
“Not anymore.”
Her eyes filled, though the tears did not fall.
“You would cancel our wedding because I threw away a drawing.”
“If that were all, no.”
“You do not know that there is more.”
“I know Nora warned me not to let you upstairs.”
Claire went still.
Daniel saw it.
“What has happened upstairs?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did that frighten you?”
“It didn’t.”
“It did.”
“You are inventing guilt from my face.”
“I’m reading your face because you won’t answer me.”
Claire turned away.
The back of her gown fit as precisely as the front. A row of satin-covered buttons ran from her neck to her waist. Daniel remembered helping choose them. Claire had rejected a zipper because she said it looked careless.
He looked at the woman he had planned to marry and felt the first true shift inside himself.
Not the ending of love.
The ending of certainty.
“I’m going upstairs,” he said.
Claire did not turn.
“If you come after me, I’ll have security keep you downstairs.”
Her head snapped around.
“This is my home too.”
“No. It was going to be.”
The words hurt her. He saw it.
They hurt him as well.
He walked away.
Sophie’s bedroom door was locked.
Daniel knocked.
“It’s Dad.”
There was a pause.
The lock clicked.
Nora opened the door only a few inches. Her brown hair had loosened from its bun. A strand clung to her cheek.
“Is she all right?” Daniel asked.
Nora looked behind her.
“No.”
He entered.
Sophie sat in the corner between the bed and the wall, still wearing the blue party dress. Her shoes had been removed and placed neatly beside each other on the rug. She held one of Rebecca’s old scarves against her chest.
Daniel had not known the scarf was in the room.
It was pale green silk, patterned with tiny birds. Rebecca used to wear it when she drove with the windows down because she hated hair touching her face. Sophie had been two when Rebecca died. She could not have remembered the scarf on her own.
“Where did you find that?” Daniel asked.
Sophie pressed it to her nose.
“Mommy’s box.”
Daniel looked toward the closet.
On the floor sat a cedar box he kept on the highest shelf. Its brass latch was open.
Nora followed his gaze.
“She asked for it,” she said. “I got it down.”
Daniel sat on the rug several feet from Sophie.
“Can I stay here?”
Sophie shrugged.
He settled with his back against the side of the bed.
For a while, no one spoke.
The muffled sound of guests drifted up settled with his back against the side of the bed.
For a while, no one spoke.
The muffled sound of guests drift from below. A burst of laughter came from the terrace, followed by the opening and closing of glass doors.
Sophie rubbed the edge of the scarf between her fingers.
“Are you mad?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“At Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Because she threw it away?”
“Because she hurt you.”
Sophie looked down.
Daniel waited.
“Has she hurt you before?”
The child’s fingers stopped moving.
Nora crossed the room and sat near the dresser, giving Sophie space.
Daniel kept his voice quiet.
“You’re not in trouble. Nora isn’t in trouble. I’m not asking you to choose between anyone.”
Sophie’s chin trembled.
“She doesn’t hit me.”
The sentence emptied the room.
Daniel felt his heart beat once, hard.
“I didn’t ask whether she hit you.”
“She says that means she isn’t mean.”
Nora covered her mouth again.
Daniel kept both hands flat on the rug.
“What does she do?”
Sophie’s gaze moved to Nora.
“You can tell him,” Nora said.
“She makes rules.”
“What rules?”
“Don’t go in your office when the door is shut. Don’t talk about Mommy when people are eating. Don’t ask Nora to sleep in my room. Don’t sit in the front when we go in her car. Don’t call you when you’re working.”
Daniel swallowed.
Some of those rules sounded ordinary when listed separately. Privacy. Boundaries. Safety. He could hear Claire explaining each one in reasonable language.
Together, spoken by a five-year-old, they sounded like a map of disappearance.
“Did she tell you not to talk about Mom?”
“Only at dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes her lose her appetite.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
Nora’s voice was careful.
“There’s more.”
He looked at her.
She had folded her hands in her lap.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“What more?”
Nora looked at Sophie.
The child pulled the scarf over her knees.
“Three weeks ago,” Nora said, “Claire asked me to begin packing some of Sophie’s things.”
Daniel stared at her.
“For what?”
“She said the east bedroom would be converted into a guest suite after the wedding.”
Sophie’s bedroom was in the east wing.
“Where was Sophie supposed to sleep?”
“The room beside mine.”
Nora lived in a small suite near the service stairs.
Daniel stood.
The room tilted slightly, or perhaps he did.
“Did she show you plans?”
“No. She said you had agreed.”
“I did not.”
“I thought perhaps you had discussed it privately.”
“You should have asked me.”
“I did.”
Daniel searched his memory.
Nora continued.
“Last Tuesday, in the kitchen. You were leaving for the office. I asked whether the east-wing changes were final.”
May you like
He remembered.
He had been on a call with the bank. Nora asked something about moving rooms. Claire answered before he did.
