Chương 3
Mara’s eyes met his for the first time. Something in them was close to relief and not close enough.
“I’ll ask Mr. Bell to wait,” she said.
When she left, Julian helped Clara arrange pillows against the headboard. She changed in the bathroom with the door open three inches. He stood where she could see the edge of his black shirt through the gap.
The blue pajamas had small white moons on them. Amelia had bought the first version when Clara was four. Each year Mara found the same pattern in the next size.
Clara emerged carrying her party dress over one arm. A dark stain marked the pale blue skirt.
“What happened there?” Julian asked.
“Gravy.”
“Did you spill it?”
“She bumped me.”
“Vanessa?”
Clara rubbed the fabric between her fingers.
“She said it wasn’t on purpose.”
“Was it?”
“I don’t know.”
Julian took the dress and laid it across the reading chair. Clara climbed onto his side of the bed, not hers. He pulled the blankets over her.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Are you still marrying her?”
“No.”
Clara went still.
He expected relief. Instead, fear returned.
“Because of me?”
“Because of what she did.”
“But if I had just sat down—”
“No.”
The word came too sharply. Clara’s shoulders rose.
Julian lowered his voice. “No. Listen to me. You did not end anything. Vanessa made a choice. I made a choice after I saw it. Those belong to us, not to you.”
Clara stared at the seam of the blanket.
“She said you would pick her eventually.”
His chest tightened.
“What else did she say?”
“That when people get married, the wife comes first.”
Julian sat beside her carefully.
“She said children move out, but wives stay.”
“When did she tell you that?”
Clara turned her face toward the pillow. “I don’t know.”
“Today?”
A pause.
“Not only today.”
He wanted to stand. He wanted to return downstairs and demand dates, sentences, explanations. The anger had moved beyond heat into something colder, but beneath it lay a worse feeling, one he could not direct at Vanessa.
He had brought her into the house.
He had given her keys, authority, access to Clara’s school, permission to make decisions when he was traveling. He had admired the way she handled calendars and meals and staff schedules. He had called it stability.
Clara watched him from the pillow.
“Are you mad now?”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“You look the same.”
Julian rested his hands on his knees. “I learned to look the same when I’m angry.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes I say the wrong thing if I don’t wait.”
“Vanessa says waiting makes people listen.”
“She’s right about that.”
Clara seemed troubled by the concession.
“People can be right about one thing and wrong about something else,” Julian said.
She considered it, then pulled the blanket to her chin.
“Will she be here tomorrow?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m going to make sure.”
Clara closed her eyes, but her lashes remained wet.
After several minutes, she asked, “Can the light stay on?”
“Yes.”
“The big one.”
“All night.”
She fell asleep shortly before midnight with one hand still twisted in the sleeve of his suit coat.
Julian remained beside her until the rhythm of her breathing changed. Then he sent a message to Robert Bell, his attorney and oldest friend, asking him to come upstairs quietly.
Robert entered without his jacket. At fifty-two, he had the exhausted face of a man who had spent much of his career preventing wealthy people from turning private disasters into public ones. He looked at Clara, then at Julian.
“Is she hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
Robert glanced toward the chair, where the stained party dress lay.
“I mean physically.”
“I don’t know that either.”
“Has she said Vanessa touched her?”
“Not yet.”
The phrase sounded intolerable as soon as Julian spoke it.
Robert heard it too. “We need to be careful.”
“She put dog food in a bowl with Clara’s name on it.”
“I saw.”
“And made her sit on the floor.”
“I saw that too.”
“Then do not tell me to be careful.”
“I’m telling you because you’re furious, and you have a child asleep three feet away.” Robert kept his voice low. “Being careful is how you protect her tomorrow.”
Julian looked at Clara’s hand in the blue sleeve.
“Vanessa leaves tonight.”
“She has lived here for ten months.”
“The house is mine.”
“That doesn’t mean you should throw her belongings onto the street at midnight.”
“I don’t care about her belongings.”
“I know. She will. So will her attorney.”
Julian disliked the answer because it was practical.
Robert continued. “Her brother took her to the Carlyle. She removed a suitcase and toiletries. Mara witnessed what she took. The rest stays until we arrange collection.”
“Change every access code.”
“Already being done.”
“School authorization.”
“We can handle that in the morning.”
“Tonight.”
Robert studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Tonight.”
“The wedding is canceled.”
“I assumed.”
“Call the hotel, the planner, everyone.”
“Your communications director should manage the guest list. There were people downstairs who will talk.”
“They can talk.”
“They will not all tell the same story.”
Julian looked at him.
Robert rubbed his forehead. “One of the guests recorded part of it.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I saw a phone raised when you took the ring.”
“Find out.”
“I’ll try. But before this becomes about video, you need to decide what information belongs to Clara and what belongs to you.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“That is not a legal distinction,” Robert said. “It is a moral one.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Julian almost told him to leave. Instead, he looked at the child sleeping in his bed and let the question remain.
May you like
Mara waited in the upstairs sitting room. She had changed out of her uniform and wore a plain gray sweater, but the white-collared dress hung over one arm. She was preparing to leave.
Julian closed the bedroom door behind him.
