Chương 2
“Don’t.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were watching us through the door.”
“I heard a car.”
“And then my phone happened to buzz?”
Caroline gave a tired shrug.
“Maybe somebody else thinks Daniel is a liar.”
Daniel finally spoke.
“Caroline.”
His voice did not sound angry.
It sounded afraid.
Emily turned toward him slowly.
Caroline’s expression changed.
There it was.
Not triumph. Not exactly.
Recognition.
The recognition of two people who had been having conversations without Emily.
Emily stared at her husband.
“How many times have you talked to her?”
Daniel rubbed his jaw.
“Can we not do this outside?”
“How many?”
“A few.”
“A few since Dad died?”
He did not answer.
“Daniel.”
“Before.”
Something inside Emily went very still.
“How long before?”
He looked toward the trees.
Caroline said, “You should probably tell her.”
Emily snapped her head toward her sister.
“You don’t get to help.”
“Fine.”
“You don’t get to stand there like this is some meeting you scheduled.”
“I didn’t schedule you.”
“No. Apparently that was the problem.”
Margaret stepped closer and lowered her voice.
“Emily, there are documents that need to be preserved. Whatever else is happening between the three of you, I would strongly prefer nobody remove anything from the chalet until we determine what was filed and why.”
Caroline gave a short laugh.
“You’re acting like I’m stealing silverware.”
Margaret looked at the folder in Caroline’s arms.
“What are you holding?”
For the first time, Caroline seemed uncertain.
Emily noticed something else then.
Behind the glass door, in the foyer, two cardboard moving boxes sat against the wall.
One had been taped shut.
The other was open.
Her father’s green wool scarf lay across the top.
Emily walked toward the steps.
Caroline moved in front of her.
“Don’t.”
Emily stopped.
She was close enough now to see the fine lines around Caroline’s eyes and the dry patch of skin beneath her lower lip. Her sister looked tired. Not funeral tired. Older than that. Months tired.
Emily pointed toward the boxes.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorting.”
“Three days after he died?”
“Somebody has to.”
“Mom is alive.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you packing his things?”
“Because there are people coming tomorrow.”
“What people?”
Caroline’s eyes closed briefly.
Daniel spoke behind Emily.
“Caroline.”
She turned on him.
“Oh, now you want to be careful?”
Emily looked back.
Daniel’s face had gone pale.
Caroline shifted the folder to her other arm.
“The realtor.”
No one said anything.
Emily stared at her.
“What realtor?”
“The one Dad spoke to.”
“My father was selling the chalet?”
“He was considering it.”
Margaret said, “Robert told me explicitly he was not ready to list.”
Caroline looked irritated now.
“He told you a lot of things.”
“He did.”
“He also changed his mind every other week.”
“Not about ownership.”
“You don’t know what he said to me.”
“That is correct.”
“Then stop pretending.”
Margaret did not react to the sharpness.
“That is why we preserve records instead of guessing.”
Emily looked at the lit windows again.
She had spent fourteen Christmases there. Her father had bought the place when she was twelve, back when he still believed family vacations could repair whatever arguments had happened at home. The chalet had not repaired anything. It had simply accumulated them. Ski boots kicked under benches. Caroline refusing to speak to their mother for an entire New Year’s weekend. Robert burning pancakes because he was arguing about college tuition while cooking.
Emily had always thought of the house as permanent because so many unhappy things there had been survived.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Em.”
She did not look at him.
He tried again.
“I need to explain something.”
“You need to explain a lot.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t get to say that yet.”
Her hand hurt from the slap.
She curled it into her coat pocket.
For one absurd moment, she wished she could undo that part. Not because Daniel didn’t deserve her anger, but because her father would have hated it. Robert despised scenes. He had once left a restaurant after a man at another table yelled at a waiter.
Then she imagined him seeing the deed.
She wasn’t sure what he would have hated more.
Margaret nodded toward the SUV.
“My car is warm. We can sit there and go through what I know.”
Caroline said, “Or we can go inside like adults.”
Emily looked at her.
“You forged Mom’s signature.”
“You have no idea what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
“Not in the driveway.”
“Why? Somebody might hear you?”
Caroline glanced toward the neighboring property, hidden beyond pines and a low ridge.
“Nobody can hear us.”
Emily nearly smiled.
“You always have an answer.”
“And you always have an accusation.”
“My accusation has a county stamp on it.”
That landed.
Caroline looked away.
Margaret took out her phone.
“I am going to photograph the boxes exactly where they are.”
Caroline stepped toward her.
“No.”
Margaret met her eyes.
“Do not touch me.”
“I’m not touching you.”
“Good.”
Daniel whispered, “This is insane.”
Emily spun around.
“Which part?”
He flinched.
She immediately wished she had not used that tone.
Not because of him.
Because she heard Caroline in it.
She walked to the SUV instead and leaned against the open rear door. Cold leather brushed the back of her hand. A bottle of water rolled along the floor mat where the driveway sloped.
Daniel stood several feet away.
He did not try to approach again.
Emily watched Margaret take photographs of the foyer from outside. Caroline remained on the steps, blocking the entrance without seeming to.
The wind moved her coat hem.
Emily’s phone vibrated again.
Her stomach tightened.
This time it was her mother.
She stared at the name.
MOM.
The message read: Did you get there okay?
Emily read it twice.
Normal words.
May you like
A normal question.
Her mother had sent ordinary messages all week. Did you eat. Bring the blue dress, not the black one. The funeral home needs the photo by noon. Tell Daniel the pipes under the guest bathroom freeze when it’s below ten.
