Chương 8
“You’re destroying what he built,” she told him over dinner one Sunday.
They were alone in her Back Bay house.
Ethan put down his fork.
“No.”
“Your grandfather started that company.”
“And Dad lied to its board.”
“You don’t know what pressures he was under.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Margaret stared at him.
He regretted the cruelty immediately.
He did not take it back.
She folded her napkin.
“I loved your father.”
“I know.”
“He was not only the worst things he did.”
“I know that too.”
“Do you?”
Ethan looked toward the empty chair at the end of the table where Richard had sat for thirty-four years.
“I’m trying.”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
She blinked until they cleared.
“I miss him.”
“So do I.”
“I’m angry at him.”
“So am I.”
“I hate being angry at someone who is dead.”
Ethan looked down.
“Yeah.”
For a while they sat without speaking.
The refrigerator compressor started in the kitchen.
Margaret eventually said, “How are the girls?”
“Good.”
“Claire?”
“Good.”
“Still no?”
“Yes.”
Margaret nodded.
“Tell her I asked.”
“I always do.”
October brought colder weekends.
Ethan learned the subway with a baby carrier strapped to his chest.
Claire took a photograph the first time.
“Delete that.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I look ridiculous.”
“You look terrified.”
“I was told public transit builds character.”
“Who told you that?”
“You.”
“I said public transit builds patience.”
“Same thing.”
Their relationship remained strange.
They were not together.
They did not touch except accidentally.
They argued about feeding schedules, money, childcare, and Ethan’s habit of solving problems without consulting anyone.
When he paid the remaining neonatal hospital bill directly, Claire found out through the billing portal.
She called him at work.
“You did it again.”
He knew immediately.
“It was accruing interest.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That interrupted her anger.
He leaned back in his chair.
“I’m trying, Claire.”
“I know.”
“I saw a problem.”
“And fixed it.”
“Yes.”
“Without asking.”
“Yes.”
“Because asking means somebody can say no.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Yes.”
She became quiet.
“That’s the first time you’ve admitted it.”
“I’m having a difficult year.”
She laughed.
He smiled.
Then she said, “Thank you for paying it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m still mad.”
“I know.”
Both things were allowed to be true.
In November, Claire finally agreed to let Margaret visit.
Margaret arrived in Queens carrying nothing.
Claire noticed immediately.
“No gifts?”
“I was given instructions.”
“By whom?”
“Everyone.”
Maribel appeared from the kitchen.
“I told her flowers.”
Margaret looked betrayed.
“You said not to bring anything.”
“I changed my mind.”
Claire laughed.
The visit lasted forty minutes.
Margaret held Lucy.
She did not cry.
She came close when Lucy grabbed one of her pearl earrings.
“You have excellent taste,” Margaret whispered.
Claire heard.
Her expression tightened.
Margaret noticed.
She removed the earrings and placed them in her pocket.
“Sorry.”
Claire shook her head.
“It’s not that.”
“What?”
Claire hesitated.
“Nothing.”
Margaret did not push.
Before leaving, she stood by the apartment door.
“I owe you an apology that is too large to be useful.”
Claire folded her arms.
Margaret continued.
“I kept trying to find a version that explained me. Your relationship was volatile. Richard was dying. Ethan was under pressure. I was frightened. All of those things are true.”
Claire waited.
“None of them gave me the right to lie to you.”
Ethan watched from beside the bassinets.
Margaret swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire’s eyes lowered.
“I’m not ready to forgive you.”
“I know.”
“I might never be.”
Margaret nodded.
“I know.”
Claire looked at her.
“Come next month.”
Margaret’s breath caught.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
That made Margaret smile.
“All right.”
She left.
Claire closed the door.
Ethan looked at her.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t.”
“For what?”
“Making this about you.”
He nodded.
“Right.”
She walked toward the kitchen.
Then stopped.
“Your mother loves them.”
“Yes.”
“That makes it harder.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He almost said something defensive.
Instead he waited.
Claire leaned against the counter.
“If she were awful, I could hate her. It would be easy.”
Ethan understood then.
Not completely.
Enough.
“Yeah,” he said.
Claire looked toward the door through which Margaret had left.
“Yeah.”
By December, Cole Development had negotiated a restructuring agreement.
It cost them two projects, a painful equity infusion, and control provisions Richard would have considered humiliating.
Ethan signed anyway.
The board asked him to remain chief executive.
He surprised them by refusing.
David stared at him after the meeting.
“You’re quitting?”
“No.”
“You just declined the CEO role.”
“I’m staying through the restructuring as president.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not moving into Dad’s office.”
“That’s your reason?”
“One of them.”
David studied him.
“You know you can be a father and a CEO.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to overcorrect.”
Ethan looked at him.
That word stayed.
Overcorrect.
He had spent his life believing every problem had an optimal answer.
Now he had two daughters who sometimes screamed because a sock felt wrong.
He had an ex-girlfriend who did not trust grand gestures.
He had a mother whose worst decision had been made partly out of love.
He had a dead father he could neither forgive nor confront.
Optimal had begun to seem childish.
“I’m not trying to become somebody else,” Ethan said.
David leaned against the table.
“Then who are you trying to become?”
Ethan considered it.
“I’d settle for somebody people can reach.”
David nodded.
“That sounds annoyingly healthy.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
Christmas arrived with snow.
Claire had to work until four.
Ethan spent the afternoon with the twins in Queens.
Margaret came down from Boston carrying flowers for Maribel and two ordinary stuffed rabbits for the girls.
“Twenty-two dollars each,” she announced when Claire came home.
Claire took off her coat.
“You kept the receipt?”
Margaret produced it triumphantly.
Claire laughed.
They ate takeout Chinese food around Maribel’s small kitchen table.
Nora threw mashed sweet potato onto Ethan’s shirt.
May you like
Margaret laughed so hard she coughed.
“This suit cost three thousand dollars,” Ethan said.
