Chương 3
Owen’s fingers found the back of Daniel’s jacket again.
Daniel said, “Anything you need to say about what happened to them can be said where they can hear it.”
Claire glanced at Owen. “What did you tell him?”
The boy’s grip tightened.
Daniel stepped forward. “Don’t question him.”
“I’m asking a simple question.”
“You’re asking him to measure his answer against what you want.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe. Don’t do it.”
Claire folded her arms. The movement pulled the black fabric tight across her shoulders. “They destroyed the room after I told them three times not to bring those bins in here. You know how they are when you’re away. They ignore me. They wait until I lose patience, and then suddenly I’m the monster.”
“No one called you a monster.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Daniel felt Lily’s breath against his neck.
“What did you intend to do with the hanger?” he asked.
Claire looked past him toward the open front doors. Heat shimmered above the drive. Somewhere beyond the hedges, a lawn mower droned, too far away to belong to anyone in the room.
“I intended to make them listen.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“You raised it.”
“I was frustrated.”
“You raised it toward them.”
“I raised it in the room.”
“Owen stood in front of Lily.”
“Because he’s dramatic.”
The words seemed to surprise even Claire.
Owen’s face went still.
Daniel lowered Lily carefully onto her feet. He crouched and placed a hand on each child’s shoulder.
“Go sit on the first stair,” he said. “Right there where I can see you.”
Owen hesitated.
“I won’t let her near you.”
That assurance should never have been necessary in their home. Daniel heard it after it left his mouth.
The children crossed the foyer together. Owen sat on the bottom step of the curved staircase, and Lily settled close beside him with the rabbit in her lap. They were fifteen feet away, visible beneath the chandelier.
Daniel stood.
“Do not call him dramatic for being afraid,” he said.
Claire’s eyes flashed. “Do not speak to me like I’m some stranger who broke into your house.”
“Our house.”
“Interesting time to remember that.”
He stared at her.
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “There it is. You come home in the middle of one bad moment, and now you’re Father of the Year.”
Daniel looked at the mug visible through the family-room archway.
WORLD’S MOST PATIENT DAD.
The accusation hurt because it did not miss.
He loosened his tie another inch. “This isn’t about whether I’ve been a good father.”
“It should be.”
“It will be.”
“No, it won’t. You’ll make this about me, and then you’ll go back to Jacksonville on Monday, or Atlanta, or wherever the next emergency is. You’ll leave me here with their schedules, their meals, their mess, their moods, and the second I fail, you’ll act shocked.”
“Raising a hanger over them is not failing to keep a schedule.”
“I did not hit them.”
“You scared them on purpose.”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Daniel waited.
Claire’s gaze moved toward the staircase. Lily was smoothing the rabbit’s bent ear with her thumb. Owen watched the adults without blinking.
“I lost my temper,” Claire said.
“That is not enough.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“I just gave it to you.”
“No. You gave me the smallest version that makes you feel less responsible.”
Her chin lifted. “And what version are you going to give? The one where you didn’t answer your phone?”
Daniel’s silence changed the room.
Claire saw it.
“I called twice,” she said. “Before any of this. I told you I was at the end of my patience.”
“You sent messages about toys.”
“I asked you to call.”
“You wrote, ‘Call me when your empire permits.’”
“Because polite requests don’t work.”
Daniel glanced at the children. Owen’s eyes moved between them. Lily continued rubbing the rabbit’s ear.
“You’re right,” Daniel said. “I should have answered.”
Claire’s shoulders lowered a fraction.
Then he added, “That does not make what you did less serious.”
The fraction disappeared.
“You always do that,” she said. “You admit just enough to sound fair, then put yourself back above everyone.”
“I’m not above anyone.”
“You caught my wrist like I was about to beat them.”
“You raised a hanger over two frightened children.”
“I was never going to touch them.”
“They did not know that.”
“I knew it.”
“They had to trust your restraint while you were using fear to control them.”
Claire looked at the hanger on the console. “You’re making it sound calculated.”
“Was it accidental?”
Her face tightened.
Daniel rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had slept four hours, drank too much hotel coffee, and left his laptop charger beneath the conference table. Those details floated at the edge of his attention with insulting normality.
He turned to the children. “Have there been other times you were scared of Claire?”
Claire’s head snapped toward him. “Daniel.”
He raised one hand without looking at her.
Owen stared at the floor.
Lily stopped stroking the rabbit.
Daniel walked to the stairs and sat one step below them, putting his face closer to theirs. “You can tell me.”
“Are you going to be mad?” Owen asked.
“At you? No.”
“At her?”
Daniel glanced back. Claire had not moved.
“I already am,” he said. “But I’m going to stay in control of myself.”
Owen studied him, as though evaluating a contract.
“She makes us stand still sometimes,” he said.
Claire exhaled sharply. “Oh, come on.”
Daniel turned. “Quiet.”
“I ask them to stand by the wall while I clean up what they’ve thrown everywhere.”
“How long?”
“I don’t time it.”
Owen said, “Once it was until the lights came on outside.”
Claire looked at him. “That is not true.”
“It was when you spilled the blue soap,” Lily whispered.
May you like
“I didn’t spill it,” Owen said. “The bottle fell.”
Claire pressed two fingers to her forehead. “They were supposed to stay in the laundry room because the floor was wet.”
