Chương 6
“Which is why someone needs to tell the guests something before people create their own version.”
Claire glared at him.
He did not retreat.
It infuriated her that he was right.
Evelyn said, “I can leave.”
Claire turned on her.
“No.”
“I don’t want to damage your event.”
“You are not walking out again.”
The words came too quickly.
Everyone heard what they meant.
Evelyn did not move.
Claire’s tears returned, but she blinked them back.
“If you leave this building without telling me where you’re going, I will follow you into the street.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Understood.”
Daniel looked at Claire.
“I can address the guests.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No. You’ve been managing what I know for years. You’re done for tonight.”
The hurt on his face was immediate.
Claire saw it and did not take the words back.
She picked up her phone and called Melanie.
The PR director answered before the first ring completed.
“Claire.”
“What’s outside?”
“Three television crews downstairs already. Security says more are arriving. Video is online.”
“Of course it is.”
“Is that really Commander Hart?”
Claire looked at Evelyn.
“Yes.”
Melanie was silent.
Then, professionally, “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing about where she’s been. Nothing about the investigation. Tell guests there was an unexpected family matter and the program is ending early.”
“Donors?”
“Refund anything that needs refunding. Keep all pledged donations unless people request otherwise.”
“The live auction?”
“Close it.”
“Press?”
“No statement tonight.”
Melanie exhaled.
“Claire, silence may not hold.”
“I know.”
“Do you want security to clear a private exit?”
Claire looked at Evelyn.
Her mother watched her, waiting.
“No.”
Daniel stood.
“Claire.”
She covered the phone.
“What?”
“If she walks through the lobby, it becomes a circus.”
“It already is.”
“Security exists for a reason.”
Evelyn said, “He’s right.”
Claire looked from one parent to the other.
For the first time that evening, they agreed.
She hated that too.
“Fine.”
She returned to the call.
“Private exit. Keep press away from staff. Nobody improvises comments.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you.”
Claire ended the call.
Then she stared at the three people around her.
“I’m going home.”
Ethan said, “Our place?”
She nodded.
Daniel opened his mouth.
Claire pointed at him.
“You are coming.”
He closed it.
She looked at Evelyn.
“You too.”
Evelyn’s eyes flickered.
“Okay.”
The word sounded strangely small.
They left through a service corridor fifteen minutes later.
Evelyn had put her cap back in her left hand.
The young captain waited near the corridor entrance.
He stepped toward her.
“Commander.”
Evelyn stopped.
Claire did too.
The captain looked nervous now that he was close.
“Captain Owen Mercer.”
Evelyn nodded.
“I saw the name card.”
He looked surprised.
Claire almost smiled.
That was her mother.
Even after death, captivity, and ten years of absence, she apparently still read name cards.
Mercer swallowed.
“My older brother served under you at Landstuhl before your last deployment.”
Evelyn’s face softened.
“Name?”
“Benjamin Mercer.”
She thought for a moment.
“Respiratory therapist. Terrible coffee.”
The captain laughed involuntarily.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How is he?”
“Denver. Two kids.”
“Good.”
Mercer looked at her uniform.
Then at her face.
“We really did watch the funeral.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Evelyn paused.
“So am I.”
They continued.
Claire looked back once.
Mercer remained in the corridor, watching her mother leave.
The service elevator carried them down forty-seven floors.
No one spoke.
Ethan stared at the changing numbers above the door.
Daniel stood with both hands in his pockets.
Claire watched Evelyn’s reflection in the mirrored panel.
Evelyn caught her looking.
Neither turned.
At the parking level, rainwater had blown beneath the entrance, leaving dark marks across the concrete.
A foundation security driver waited beside Claire’s car.
Daniel said, “You shouldn’t drive.”
Claire looked at him.
“I’m not twelve.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You used the voice.”
“What voice?”
“The father voice.”
“I have one voice.”
Ethan said, “You have several.”
Daniel gave him a look.
Ethan raised both hands.
“Trying to help.”
“You’re not.”
Claire held out her keys.
“Ethan drives.”
Evelyn looked toward Daniel.
“How are you getting home?”
“With you, apparently.”
Claire answered before he could.
They drove north through rain.
Chicago moved beyond the windows in wet reflections and red brake lights.
Evelyn sat in the back beside Daniel.
Claire sat in front.
At one traffic light, a man under an umbrella crossed in front of them carrying a pizza box. Claire watched him hurry through the rain.
The normalness of strangers had never seemed so aggressive.
She wondered whether anyone else in the city had just had their dead mother arrive at a gala.
Probably not.
Ethan kept both hands on the wheel.
After several blocks he said, “I ordered groceries this morning.”
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
“We have food.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Evelyn looked out the window.
Ethan continued, “I’m aware that this is not important.”
“It’s somehow important,” Claire said.
“We have pasta.”
“Stop helping.”
“Right.”
Ten minutes later Evelyn asked, “What kind?”
Ethan glanced at the mirror.
“What?”
“Pasta.”
“Rigatoni.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Good.”
Claire looked back at her mother.
Evelyn’s expression remained serious.
Claire laughed.
She could not stop it.
Ethan began laughing too.
Daniel resisted for three seconds, then surrendered.
Evelyn watched them all as if they had lost their minds.
Then the corner of her mouth moved.
The laughter ended quickly.
But it mattered.
At Claire’s apartment, Evelyn stopped just inside the door.
Claire noticed.
The space contained evidence of a life Evelyn had never seen.
Photographs on the entry shelf. Shoes by the wall. A bowl of keys. A framed picture of Claire and Ethan in Maine. A plant leaning desperately toward the window.
And, beside the living room bookshelf, Evelyn’s flag.
Folded.
Framed.
Above it hung the photograph from the funeral program.
Evelyn stared at it.
Claire felt suddenly ashamed.
Then angry for feeling ashamed.
“I didn’t know where else to put it.”
Evelyn approached the frame.
May you like
“You kept it.”
“Of course I kept it.”
