Chương 10
The laughter that followed lasted long enough to make Celeste wipe her eyes.
When it ended, the room felt different.
Not healed.
Just less arranged.
Eleanor set down the mug.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Mia?”
Celeste’s expression changed.
Mia kept coloring.
Celeste glanced at her.
“Rachel, can you take Mia to the bookstore?”
Mia groaned.
“You said I could stay.”
“I know.”
“You’re gonna talk about me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s rude.”
“Extremely.”
Mia looked at Eleanor.
“Are you going to yell?”
“No.”
“Mom might.”
Celeste said, “Shoes.”
Mia put on her worn black shoes.
Eleanor noticed one sole was separating near the toe.
She said nothing.
Rachel took Mia downstairs.
The door closed.
Celeste sat back.
“Mia’s father was David Carter.”
Eleanor knew the name.
She had never met him.
“He was the photographer.”
“Yes.”
“You married him?”
“No.”
“I thought—”
“That was the first problem.”
Eleanor fell silent.
Celeste smiled without humor.
“You thought I had ruined my life with someone you considered temporary.”
“I considered him irresponsible.”
“He was irresponsible.”
Eleanor waited.
“He was also kind,” Celeste said. “And he made pancakes at midnight because Mia thought breakfast was a nighttime food.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“Cancer. Six years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Celeste looked toward the window.
“Yes.”
The radiator clanged.
Eleanor did not rush to fill the silence.
Celeste noticed that too.
“When David got sick, I almost called you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I knew what you would do.”
“What?”
“Fix everything.”
“I could have helped.”
“That was the problem.”
Eleanor frowned.
Celeste leaned forward.
“You don’t help. You take over until the person you’re helping can’t tell where their choices went.”
“That is unfair.”
“Is it?”
Eleanor looked away.
“No.”
Celeste rubbed her palms against her jeans.
“David didn’t want your money. I did. Sometimes. I was tired and scared and furious at him for dying, and I would think about one phone call. One. You’d have had specialists. Cars. Childcare. A better apartment. But then I’d picture you arriving and deciding which doctor, which school, which lawyer, what treatment, what funeral.”
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
“You deprived Mia because you were afraid of me.”
“Yes.”
“That was selfish.”
“Yes.”
The answer disarmed her.
Celeste continued.
“I did selfish things. A lot of them. I thought keeping her away from the Vances meant I was protecting her from becoming like us. Then I got addicted to pain medication and drove her around while I was half out of my mind.”
Eleanor felt the old instinct rise.
Correct.
Judge.
Organize.
Instead she asked, “How many times?”
Celeste stared at her.
“Once that I know of.”
“That you know of?”
“I had blackouts.”
Eleanor’s hands went cold.
Celeste looked down.
“That’s what Victor had on me.”
“He threatened custody?”
“Not directly at first. He’d say things like, ‘Imagine what a judge would think.’ Or, ‘Mia needs stability.’ Which was true.”
“Then?”
“Then I got better.”
“And he lost leverage.”
“No. He changed leverage.”
Celeste stood and went to the window.
“The Marlowe files.”
“Yes.”
“I had copies on an encrypted drive.”
“Where?”
Celeste glanced back.
“Not in the tin case, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Eleanor almost smiled.
“Victor believed I had them with me. I didn’t. He wanted the drive. I told him I’d destroyed it.”
“Had you?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“With David’s sister in Vermont.”
Eleanor stared.
“She knows?”
“She thinks it contains family photographs.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
“That is almost funny.”
“I try.”
“Have police retrieved it?”
“Ortiz knows.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
Eleanor nodded slowly.
“Good.”
Celeste turned from the window.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“What?”
“Having a secret from Victor.”
Eleanor considered lying.
“Yes.”
Celeste laughed once.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that sounds like you.”
Eleanor’s smile faded.
“Why did you come to him instead of me?”
Celeste did not answer immediately.
“Because I thought Victor only wanted one thing from me.”
“The files.”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
“You wanted me.”
Eleanor felt the words as accusation and grief at once.
Celeste crossed her arms.
“You wanted me to come back, apologize, be your daughter again, let you love Mia, explain everything, forgive you, forgive myself. Victor wanted a hard drive. That seemed simpler.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.”
“When did he lock the first door?”
Celeste looked at the floor.
“Four months ago.”
“What happened?”
“I told the nurse I was leaving.”
“And?”
“She said she’d been instructed not to let me take Mia.”
Eleanor’s face hardened.
“I tried anyway. Security stopped me at the gate.”
“At Connecticut?”
“Yes.”
“Did they touch you?”
“One guy took my arm. I pulled away and fell.”
“The bruise?”
“That one was from a cabinet.”
Eleanor blinked.
Celeste looked irritated.
“Not every bruise is evidence.”
“I know.”
“You don’t.”
“All right.”
Celeste sat again.
“After that, Victor came. We had a fight. I told him I would call police.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I was welcome to explain everything to them. The drugs. The driving. The missing years. The fake names. The money. He said Mia might spend a few nights in foster care while everyone sorted out whether I was competent.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“He scared you.”
“He used things that were possible.”
“That is what made it effective.”
“Yes.”
“Why move to New York?”
“The leak at Connecticut was real.”
Eleanor stared.
Celeste gave a tired smile.
“I told you. Reality is annoying.”
“And Mia?”
“She started noticing the staff rotations. Which doors opened when. She’s good at that.”
“Too good.”
“Yes.”
“How did she get out?”
Celeste looked toward the apartment door as if Mia might return.
“The gala made the house chaotic. New catering staff. Temporary guards. Someone propped the service door with a crate. I had been hearing music upstairs for rehearsal all afternoon.”
“You knew what the event was.”
“Eventually.”
“The memorial.”
Celeste nodded.
“What did that feel like?”
May you like
Celeste looked at her.
“Don’t ask questions like you’re collecting pain.”
