Chương 5
“I wanted time.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I wanted Daniel back in treatment before he made promises to a child he might not be capable of keeping.”
“The baby wasn’t born.”
“I meant Lauren.”
Lauren looked down.
That landed.
Eleanor continued.
“I had watched my son promise recovery to people for eleven years. Girlfriends. Friends. Your father. You. Me. Himself. Daniel could mean something completely when he said it and betray it by Friday.”
Nathan looked through the glass.
Mia was arranging pretzels into rows on a napkin.
Daniel used to do that with poker chips.
Nathan did not say it.
“What happened after the house?” he asked.
Lauren answered.
“Daniel and I fought in the driveway. He said your mother hated me. I said she was probably right about him.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I was angry.”
“That’s allowed,” Nathan said.
Lauren gave him a look.
“You really do talk like a guy who owns conference rooms.”
“Unfortunately.”
Mia glanced through the glass and saw them looking.
She waved.
Nathan waved back.
Lauren’s face softened before she remembered where she was.
“Daniel left,” she said. “He called me that night. We fought again. The next day he brought me the letter.”
“The one Mia has?”
“Yes.”
Nathan looked toward the hallway.
“He wrote that he was going to tell me.”
“He said he had.”
Nathan stared at her.
Lauren frowned.
“What?”
“He never did.”
Silence.
Lauren looked at Eleanor.
Nathan followed her eyes.
His mother said, “Daniel called you the night before he died.”
Nathan felt cold.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I talked to him four days before.”
Eleanor’s eyes held his.
“He called your old number.”
“I had the same number.”
“You were in class.”
Nathan’s mouth went dry.
“What are you talking about?”
Eleanor looked toward the door.
For the first time all evening, she seemed to want to leave.
“Nathan—”
“No.”
Lauren said nothing.
Nathan stepped closer.
“What call?”
Eleanor’s hands separated.
“He called the house first. Then your phone.”
“And?”
“You didn’t answer.”
“That happens.”
“He called me.”
Nathan stared at her.
The room suddenly seemed too warm.
“What did he say?”
His mother’s face changed.
Something private and old moved through it.
“He said he had ruined everything.”
Nathan waited.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“He said Lauren was pregnant.”
Lauren’s eyes filled.
She looked away.
Nathan felt a pressure begin behind his ribs.
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew before he died.”
“Yes.”
“You knew after.”
“Yes.”
“For eight years.”
Eleanor did not answer.
She did not need to.
Nathan looked through the glass again.
Mia had finished half the pretzels.
Simon was talking into his phone with one finger in his other ear.
Eight years.
Nathan tried to find anger first.
Instead he found arithmetic.
Eight birthdays.
Eight Christmases.
First steps. First words. Kindergarten. Missing teeth.
Daniel had been dead for all of them.
Nathan had been alive.
“What happened to Lauren after he died?”
Eleanor looked at her.
Lauren answered.
“She came to see me.”
“When?”
“Three days after the funeral.”
Nathan stared at his mother.
Eleanor said, “There was a service. Reporters. Your father had just had a cardiac episode. You had stopped sleeping.”
“So?”
“So I handled it.”
The phrase struck Nathan harder than shouting would have.
Handled it.
He had heard Eleanor use those words about lawsuits, failed executives, leaks, unpleasant relatives, and a donor who once became drunk enough to punch a coat-check attendant.
Lauren looked at him.
“She offered me money.”
“How much?”
“At first? Fifty thousand.”
Eleanor said, “For medical expenses and living costs.”
“With an agreement.”
“Yes.”
“What agreement?” Nathan asked.
Lauren looked embarrassed now.
That surprised him.
“A confidentiality agreement.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
Of course.
“What did it say?”
“That I wouldn’t claim publicly that Daniel was Mia’s father without legal proof. That I wouldn’t contact the press. That I wouldn’t approach the family directly.”
“Did you have a lawyer?”
Lauren laughed.
“I had a manager named Denise who let me take extra breakfast shifts.”
Eleanor said, “I told her to get counsel.”
Lauren rounded on her.
“With what money?”
“I offered to pay for independent counsel.”
“You offered me the name of a lawyer your lawyer knew.”
Nathan raised his hand.
Both women stopped.
He looked at Eleanor.
“Did Lauren sign?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pay her?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
His mother hesitated.
“Monthly support. Later tuition assistance.”
Nathan stared at her.
“Tuition?”
“Mia attends St. Agnes.”
Lauren’s face went white.
Nathan looked at her.
“You didn’t know?”
“I thought it was a scholarship.”
Eleanor sat down.
It was the first time she had done so.
“I arranged it anonymously.”
Lauren’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
“You’ve been paying her school?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Three years.”
Lauren turned away.
She pressed both hands against her forehead.
Nathan watched her shoulders move with one hard breath.
“Why?” she asked.
Eleanor seemed genuinely confused by the question.
“Because she needed a school.”
Lauren laughed through her nose.
“That’s not an answer.”
Eleanor’s voice dropped.
“Because Daniel would have wanted her to have one.”
The room went very still.
Lauren turned back.
Nathan stared at his mother.
There it was.
Not innocence.
Not cruelty.
Something much harder to manage.
Guilt with a budget.
“You believed she was his,” Nathan said.
Eleanor looked at him.
“I believed she might be.”
“That isn’t why you paid.”
“Nathan.”
“You knew.”
“I did not know.”
“You knew enough.”
His mother stood.
“I knew enough to make sure a child was housed, fed, medically insured, and educated.”
Lauren’s face changed.
“Medically insured?”
Eleanor stopped.
Nathan looked between them.
Lauren said, “What do you mean?”
Eleanor’s lips parted.
Then she seemed to understand her mistake.
Lauren stepped toward her.
“What do you mean medically insured?”
Nathan said, “Lauren.”
“No. What does she mean?”
Eleanor looked at the desk.
“The payments were routed through a family trust.”
“I know where my insurance comes from.”
May you like
“You know where the policy says it comes from.”
Lauren’s face went blank.
