Chương 6
Helen watched from the opposite corner.
When Rosie began to cry, Helen reached for her.
Daniel placed one hand on the stroller handle.
“I’ve got her,” Elise said.
Helen lowered her arms.
The doors opened into the lobby.
Outside, rain had begun to darken the pavement. The driver pulled the car forward, but Daniel did not move immediately.
He looked at Helen.
“I will not sign anything.”
“Then give me another reason not to file.”
Elise’s eyes shifted toward Daniel.
He felt the envelope against his leg.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
Helen turned up the collar of her coat and walked into the rain without waiting for a car.
For the next three days, Daniel came home before eight.
The first evening, he arrived during bath time and stood in the doorway while Elise washed Rosie’s hair.
“You can come in,” she said.
“I am in.”
“You’re in the doorway.”
He stepped closer.
The bathroom was built for adults and poorly suited to babies. Elise had placed a plastic infant tub inside the marble bathtub and lined the floor with towels. Maisie lay in a portable seat, watching the steam.
Daniel rolled up his sleeves.
“What do I do?”
Elise handed him a washcloth.
“Wipe her face.”
“That’s it?”
“You want a larger assignment?”
“Yes.”
“Keep water out of her nose.”
He knelt beside the tub. Rosie watched him with serious suspicion.
He touched the washcloth to her cheek. She turned her head and tried to suck it.
“She’s eating it.”
“She explores with her mouth.”
“That cannot be hygienic.”
“She also put her foot in her mouth this morning.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me.”
Elise smiled.
The second evening, Daniel read the bedtime book. He chose one about a rabbit who repeatedly misplaced a shoe. Halfway through, he stopped.
“This rabbit is incompetent.”
Elise sat on the rug with Maisie in her lap. “It’s a developmental story.”
“It’s a story about poor inventory control.”
Rosie kicked beneath her blanket.
“Keep reading,” Elise said.
Daniel finished the book, though he changed the ending so the rabbit labeled his shelves.
The third evening, he attempted the yellow-glove puppet routine.
He was terrible.
His puppet sounded like a disappointed accountant. Elise’s puppet accused him of stealing a sandwich. Daniel tried to improvise a defense involving receipts. The twins stared at him.
“They don’t understand financial documentation,” Elise whispered.
“They should start early.”
“Your puppet needs a personality.”
“He has integrity.”
“He has no face.”
Daniel looked at the blank yellow palm.
Elise handed him a marker.
He drew two eyes and a straight mouth.
“That’s you,” she said.
“It’s restrained.”
“It looks audited.”
Maisie laughed.
Daniel turned toward her so quickly that the puppet struck him on the cheek.
Elise covered her mouth.
“Don’t,” he warned.
She lowered her hand, but her shoulders shook.
Rosie began laughing because everyone else appeared to be.
Daniel kept the glove raised.
For six minutes, the nursery belonged to no one’s grief.
Then his phone rang.
The screen showed Owen Beck, his chief operating officer. Daniel had ignored two calls already.
Elise saw the name.
“You can take it,” she said.
Daniel looked at the twins.
The call stopped.
A message appeared: Need answer now. Singapore partners threatening to walk.
He removed the glove.
Maisie’s smile vanished.
“I’ll be ten minutes,” he said.
Elise did not answer.
He took the call in the hallway.
It lasted forty-seven minutes.
When he returned, the twins were asleep and Elise was putting away the marker.
“You said ten,” she said.
“I couldn’t control the call.”
“You control the company.”
“Not every person in it.”
“No. Just everyone in this apartment.”
Daniel leaned against the dresser. “We’re losing a contract.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s worth eighty million dollars.”
“That is a lot of money.”
He waited for more.
Elise capped the marker. “Rosie cried when you left.”
“I was outside the room.”
“She watched the door.”
“Babies cry.”
“That’s true.”
The calmness in her voice irritated him more than accusation.
“You think I should have ignored the call.”
“I think you should stop promising ten minutes when you mean however long it takes.”
Daniel looked toward the cribs. Rosie slept with one hand near her face.
“I came back.”
Elise switched off the lamp.
“That is not the only thing children learn to count.”
The following Monday, Daniel stayed at the office until midnight.
The decision formed through a hundred reasonable steps. A lender changed terms. A partner requested revisions. Owen said the Singapore group would interpret Daniel’s absence as weakness. The boardroom had no windows, and by seven the outside world had ceased to exist.
At nine thirty, Elise sent a photograph of the twins asleep.
At ten, Mrs. Vale texted that Helen had arrived without notice.
Daniel called immediately.
Helen answered from the nursery.
“What are you doing there?”
“Visiting my granddaughters.”
“At ten at night?”
“I was in the city.”
“Put Elise on.”
There was a pause.
“She is changing Maisie.”
“Then leave.”
“I came to bring Rebecca’s things.”
Daniel stood from the conference table.
Around him, six executives went silent.
“What things?”
“The baby clothes from my house. Her journals. Some photographs.”
“You had no right to bring those without asking.”
“They belong to the girls.”
“They are four months old.”
“One day they won’t be.”
Daniel walked out of the conference room. “Put Elise on the phone.”
Helen did not.
Instead she said, “She is very young.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should be careful.”
Daniel lowered his voice. “Careful about what?”
“About allowing someone to become necessary because you are afraid to be.”
The line went quiet.
Daniel heard one of the babies crying in the background.
“I’m coming home.”
He returned to the conference room, picked up his jacket, and told Owen to finish without him.
Owen followed him into the elevator.
“You leave now, they walk,” he said.
“They won’t.”
“They already think you’re distracted.”
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“My wife died.”
“Daniel, I know.”
