Chương 2
Victoria had been part of Adrian's life for almost twenty years.
Claire had been part of it for four.
That arithmetic had never bothered her before.
Now it did.
The ambulance arrived before the police.
Two paramedics came through the foyer with a stretcher and a collapsible medical bag while Elena cleared everyone out of the staircase. The catering staff retreated toward the kitchen, whispering despite themselves. Someone had left a champagne flute on the bar cart, and it vibrated faintly every time a boot hit the marble.
Claire hated the stretcher.
She hated the straps.
She hated the paramedic asking what week she was in while Adrian stood two feet away knowing the answer better than she did.
“Thirty-one weeks, four days,” he said.
The younger paramedic smiled briefly.
“You're allowed to let her answer.”
Adrian blinked.
Claire almost laughed again.
“Thirty-one weeks,” she said. “Four days.”
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“Contractions?”
“I don't think so.”
“Any abdominal impact?”
“No. He caught me.”
The paramedic glanced at Adrian.
“Good catch.”
Adrian did not respond.
Victoria remained near the library doors with her arms folded while a uniformed officer spoke to her. She had regained some of her composure. That frightened Claire too.
People like Victoria knew what to do when a room turned against them.
They lowered their voices.
They became reasonable.
They started replacing what happened with what could be defended.
When the paramedics lifted the stretcher, Claire turned her head.
The officer had put the prescription bottle into a clear evidence bag.
Adrian was explaining that he had touched it.
The officer wrote that down.
Victoria saw Claire looking.
Their eyes met.
Victoria mouthed something.
Claire could not hear it.
Maybe sorry.
Maybe don't.
Maybe nothing at all.
At the hospital, the baby had a steady heartbeat.
That fact should have relieved Claire completely.
It did not.
The obstetric resident dimmed the lights in the examination room and adjusted the monitor belt around Claire's stomach while Adrian stood at the window, still in his dark suit, both hands in his pockets.
For the first twenty minutes, he asked too many questions.
Then Claire told him to stop.
He stopped.
That was one of the reasons she had married him.
Not because he listened easily.
Because once he understood that listening was required, he could do it with his whole body.
The room became quiet except for the monitor and the occasional wheels of a supply cart moving through the hall.
Claire watched the green line rise and fall.
“She's moving,” the resident said.
Claire touched her stomach.
They had not told anyone the baby was a girl.
Not Elena.
Not Adrian's board.
Not Victoria.
They had told themselves it was because they wanted one thing that belonged only to them.
Now Claire wondered how many private things Victoria already knew.
The resident examined her ankle, her shoulder, and the bruising beginning along her hip. There was no sign of a major injury. They wanted to monitor her for several hours because of the fall and pregnancy.
Adrian thanked the doctor.
When the door closed, he remained standing.
Claire looked at him.
“You can sit.”
He pulled the chair closer.
For a while he watched the monitor instead of her.
Finally he said, “How long?”
Claire knew what he meant.
“About two weeks.”
His head turned.
“Two weeks?”
“I didn't take them every day.”
“What did she give you?”
“She said Dr. Levin wanted me to change prenatal vitamins because the old ones were upsetting my stomach.”
“You never told me.”
“I didn't think I needed to report vitamin changes to you.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
“I know.”
He rubbed one thumb over the side of his index finger, a habit he had when he was trying not to show anger.
“How did she give them to you?”
“Usually in the morning.”
“At the house?”
“Yes.”
“Why was Victoria giving you medication?”
“Because she was already there.”
His eyes closed briefly.
That answer implicated him in a way accusation would not have.
Victoria was always there because Adrian had made always there normal.
She had keys.
Alarm access.
A parking code.
A bedroom in the guest wing she used three or four nights a month when meetings ran late.
She had her own preferred coffee cup in the kitchen and a drawer in Adrian's home office.
She knew which wine he would refuse politely and which one he would drink to avoid offending a host.
She knew the name of Claire's obstetrician because she scheduled a board call around one of Claire's appointments.
Nothing had seemed alarming when each thing existed alone.
“Did the pills make you feel different?” Adrian asked.
Claire looked toward the monitor.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Tired. Light-headed. A little disconnected.”
“And you didn't call the doctor?”
“I thought I was pregnant.”
“You are pregnant.”
She looked at him.
“That was sarcasm.”
“I know.”
“You don't have to answer everything like you're being deposed.”
His shoulders lowered an inch.
“Sorry.”
Claire turned toward the dark window.
The glass reflected them: her in a hospital gown, him still dressed for the dinner that was probably ending without them.
She said, “I stopped taking them three days ago.”
His eyes returned to her.
“Why?”
“I didn't like how they made me feel.”
“Did you tell Victoria?”
“This afternoon.”
Adrian went still.
“What exactly did you tell her?”
Claire remembered the kitchen at two thirty. Victoria standing at the island with her phone beside a cup of tea she had forgotten to drink. Her red jacket was draped over a stool. She had looked tired then, not dangerous.
Claire had shaken two pale capsules from the small paper envelope Victoria used to bring them in.
“I said I wasn't taking any more until I spoke to Dr. Levin.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me not to overreact.”
“Anything else?”
“She said the supplements were already approved.”
“And?”
Claire frowned.
May you like
There had been something.
A sentence that felt ordinary at the time.
