Chương 13
“No.”
Madison waited.
Evelyn surprised herself by answering.
“Of being the place everyone came when something went wrong.”
Madison's expression softened.
“I thought if I sold the largest thing, maybe everyone would stop treating me like the largest emergency fund.”
“That worked?”
“Not immediately.”
Madison laughed.
Their food came.
For several minutes they talked about nothing consequential.
The restaurant had changed the recipe for its bread.
Madison hated a new client.
Evelyn's ceramic lemon had somehow become the subject of a disagreement with her housekeeper, who thought it was ugly.
“It is ugly,” Madison said.
“That isn't the point.”
“What is the point?”
“I don't know. I live alone. I shouldn't have to justify a lemon.”
Madison laughed hard enough to cover her mouth.
When the plates were cleared, she became serious.
“Daniel called me last week.”
Evelyn kept her expression neutral.
“What did he want?”
“To apologize.”
“How did that go?”
“Badly.”
“That sounds believable.”
Madison smiled.
“He didn't ask me to take him back.”
Evelyn felt an unexpected relief.
“I think that's why I listened.”
“What did he say?”
Madison looked at her.
“That he had spent most of our relationship performing a version of himself he thought I had agreed to date.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“He said he was angry at me for believing him.”
That sounded so much like Daniel that Evelyn almost smiled.
Madison continued.
“Then he said that wasn't my fault.”
“How revolutionary.”
“I know.”
“Did you forgive him?”
Madison thought.
“I don't know what that means yet.”
Evelyn nodded.
“That seems reasonable.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Forgive him?”
The question settled between them.
Evelyn could have answered quickly.
She had learned not to.
“I don't know what that means yet either.”
In late autumn, the penthouse appeared in a design magazine.
Evelyn discovered it because Peter sent her the link with three exclamation points.
The new owner had replaced the white furniture.
The glass coffee table was gone.
The room was warmer now, filled with walnut, rust-colored fabric, and books.
Evelyn scrolled through the photos.
She expected to feel violated.
Instead she thought the new sofa looked more comfortable than hers had been.
Daniel called that evening.
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“They ruined the study.”
“I like it.”
“You do not.”
“I do.”
“They put a round table where Dad's desk was.”
“It is their house.”
Daniel went quiet.
Evelyn recognized the silence.
“Say it.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know it's their house.”
The sentence carried more weight than it should have.
Evelyn sat by the window of her rental.
The ceramic lemon remained beside the sink behind her.
“You all right?”
“Yeah.”
“You don't sound all right.”
“I'm getting used to not owning things I thought were mine.”
She waited.
He added, “That wasn't a complaint.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“I was awful that day.”
“Yes.”
“You could occasionally make forgiveness more accessible.”
“I haven't decided to make it convenient.”
He laughed softly.
“Fair.”
They talked for twenty minutes.
Mostly about his Milwaukee project.
A subcontractor had installed forty-seven doors with the wrong swing direction. Daniel described it with the intensity he once reserved for eight-figure financing.
Evelyn liked hearing him care about doors.
There was something healthy about a problem whose solution involved hinges.
Winter came.
Hart Urban sold Riverside to another developer.
The sale repaid most company creditors but wiped out the remaining equity interests of the founders, including Daniel.
He called Evelyn after the announcement.
“It's official.”
“I saw.”
“I'm worth less than I was when I graduated college.”
“You are also less annoying.”
“Debatable.”
He was silent.
Then he said, “Dad would be ashamed.”
Evelyn looked at the snow collecting on the balcony rail.
“No.”
Daniel did not speak.
“Your father would be furious about the money.”
A small laugh.
“Yes.”
“He would be embarrassed about the newspaper coverage.”
“Definitely.”
“He would hate that you sold his watches.”
Daniel's breath caught.
Evelyn continued.
“But ashamed of you?”
She thought of Richard assembling that office desk backward.
Of him boasting about Daniel to strangers.
Of all the careless promises that had become debris after his death.
“No,” she said. “He would be scared for you. Then he would disguise it as anger because he was emotionally twelve in expensive shoes.”
Daniel laughed through something close to tears.
“That is disturbingly accurate.”
“He loved you.”
“I know.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“And he made some things harder for you because he loved you carelessly.”
Daniel was quiet for a long time.
“So did I,” Evelyn said.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You don't get to make my fraud a parenting failure.”
“I am not.”
“Good.”
“I am saying something different.”
He waited.
“I loved you in a way that made consequences negotiable. That was bad for both of us.”
Daniel exhaled.
“You still sold the apartment.”
“Yes.”
“I think that established your commitment to consequences.”
Evelyn smiled.
The following spring, her lease came up for renewal.
She surprised herself by staying.
The rental had stopped feeling temporary.
She bought her own sofa.
Blue.
She replaced the terrible coffee machine with one that had two buttons.
The ceramic lemon remained.
Daniel came over to help assemble a bookshelf.
He arrived with a toolbox.
Evelyn opened the door and stared at it.
“What?”
“You brought tools.”
“I work in construction.”
“You worked in development.”
“I have evolved.”
“You once called Luis because a cabinet hinge squeaked.”
“That was before adversity.”
He carried the box inside.
The bookshelf took two hours because Daniel refused to read the instructions.
Evelyn read them silently and allowed him to make three mistakes before intervening.
“Why didn't you tell me this piece was backward?”
“You seemed committed.”
He looked at her.
“You enjoyed that.”
“A little.”
They ate takeout on the floor because the dining chairs were covered in books.
Daniel looked around.
“This place is nice.”
“It is.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“You don't miss the penthouse?”
“Sometimes.”
“What part?”
“The view.”
May you like
He nodded.
“The kitchen.”
