Chương 2
Margaret’s eyes flicked toward the surrounding tables.
For the first time, embarrassment appeared to be competing with anger.
That almost made Claire smile.
Almost.
Eight months earlier, she had been sitting on the bathroom floor of the apartment she shared with Evan, holding a pregnancy test in both hands because she was afraid she would drop it if she used only one. Evan had been in the kitchen trying to repair a coffee grinder he had insisted was still under warranty even though neither of them could find the receipt.
She had called his name.
He had answered, “Give me a second.”
She had called again.
Something in her voice had brought him running.
He had stared at the test.
Then at her.
Then he had sat down on the tile so abruptly that his shoulder hit the bathtub.
For three seconds neither of them had spoken.
Then Evan had started laughing.
Claire had cried.
Not dramatically. She had covered her mouth because the sound embarrassed her.
They had been trying for nearly two years.
They had stopped telling people they were trying after the first year because every question became a small public examination.
When?
Any news?
Have you considered—
Relax, it happens when you stop trying.
Margaret had been among the worst offenders, although she disguised pressure as concern.
At Christmas she had once given Claire a bottle of prenatal vitamins.
Just in case.
Claire had thrown them away in a gas station trash can on the drive home and then felt guilty enough to retrieve the bottle.
Now she could feel that old plastic container in her hand as clearly as if she were holding it again.
“Sit,” Richard said.
This time she did.
Not because he had told her to.
The baby moved.
A firm roll beneath her ribs.
Claire pressed her palm there and waited.
The movement came again.
She breathed.
“Water,” Richard told the nearest server.
“I’m okay.”
“You can be okay with water.”
That sounded so much like Richard that Claire almost laughed again.
The server brought a glass.
Claire drank half of it.
Evan crouched beside her chair.
“Can we go home?”
She looked down at him.
“Whose home?”
He flinched.
“That’s not fair.”
“I don’t know what’s fair anymore.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then answer me.”
Evan stood.
Margaret said, “Don’t.”
He looked at his mother.
“Seriously?”
“I said don’t.”
“You dumped her purse onto a table and set our daughter’s ultrasound on fire.”
“I did not set it on fire.”
“It fell into the candle because you—”
“Evan.”
The sharpness of Margaret’s voice stopped him.
Claire noticed something else.
Fear.
Margaret was afraid of what Evan might say.
Richard noticed too.
He pulled out the chair beside Claire and sat.
“Start talking.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“Not with half the restaurant listening.”
Richard looked around.
“Half the restaurant already heard you.”
The manager approached again.
Richard knew him by name. Of course he did. Richard seemed to know every maître d’, parking attendant, dentist, contractor, and bartender within twenty miles of downtown Seattle.
“Mr. Bennett,” the manager said quietly, “we have a private dining room available.”
Richard looked at Claire.
It was the first time anyone had.
Not Margaret. Not Evan.
Claire.
She hated how grateful that made her feel.
“Do you want to leave?” Richard asked.
She looked at the burned photograph.
Then at Margaret.
“No.”
“Private room?”
“No.”
Margaret stared at her.
Claire set the photograph beside her water glass.
“You wanted an audience,” she said. “You have one.”
“Claire,” Evan murmured.
“No. She doesn’t get to humiliate me publicly and explain herself privately.”
A woman at the nearest table suddenly became very interested in buttering a piece of bread.
Claire almost admired the commitment.
Margaret lowered herself into her chair.
Water pooled beneath it.
Her emerald dress clung darkly to her side.
“I received information,” she said.
“What information?”
“About the pregnancy.”
Claire waited.
Margaret picked an ice cube from her lap and placed it on the table.
“About the timing.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“What timing?”
Margaret looked at Evan.
He shook his head.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “You started this.”
Richard leaned back.
“Margaret.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“The baby may not be Evan’s.”
There it was.
No thunder.
No shattered glass.
No dramatic scream.
Just the rain.
Claire stared at her.
Then she looked at Evan.
He was looking at the floor.
The room seemed to tilt slightly, though Claire knew it had not.
“What?”
Evan raised his head.
“Claire, I can explain.”
She stood too quickly.
Richard stood with her.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hands dropped.
Claire looked at Evan.
“Explain what?”
“It isn’t—”
“Stop saying that.”
“What?”
“It isn’t what I think. You’ve said it twice. I still don’t know what I’m supposed to think.”
Evan swallowed.
“I found something.”
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
“How many?”
“What?”
“How many months ago?”
He hesitated.
Margaret answered.
“Five.”
Claire turned toward her.
“Be quiet.”
Margaret actually obeyed.
Claire looked back at Evan.
“Five months?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know if it meant anything.”
“What did you find?”
Evan glanced at his father.
Richard’s face had changed again.
Not anger now.
Something closer to dread.
Claire followed Evan’s gaze.
“You knew.”
Richard said nothing.
“Richard.”
“I knew Evan was worried.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I knew there was a question.”
“What question?”
Evan rubbed both hands over his face.
“The clinic.”
Claire felt cold.
They had used a fertility clinic in Bellevue for fourteen months before stopping treatment.
Not because they had decided to give up.
Because Claire could no longer bear it.
The appointments. The blood draws. The numbers. The polite phone calls. The monthly transformation of hope into scheduling.
Their final treatment cycle had failed.
Three months later, Claire became pregnant naturally.
At least that was what they believed.
“What about the clinic?”
Evan looked miserable.
“There was an email.”
“To who?”
May you like
“My mother.”
Claire turned slowly toward Margaret.
