Chương 2
They crossed the hall into Diane’s office.
It was the one room Emily had disliked even before the week went bad. Everything matched too perfectly: cream rug, brass lamp, white orchids, books arranged by color rather than subject. Eli stirred as she sat on the edge of a leather chair. His mouth made a searching movement against her dress.
Noah crouched beside her.
“Em.”
She kept looking at the baby.
“Not right now.”
He nodded.
That hurt him. She could tell.
She was glad.
The gladness made her feel ugly, and she let herself feel it anyway.
The officer entered a moment later and closed the door until only a narrow strip of party noise remained.
“My name is Officer Hall,” he said. “Marcus Hall. I need to ask you some questions separately if that’s all right.”
Emily glanced at Noah.
Noah stood immediately.
“I’ll be outside.”
Before he reached the door, Emily said, “You called them?”
He stopped.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“In the car.”
She looked up.
“How did you know?”
His mouth tightened. “Your text.”
Emily tried to remember what she had sent.
Then she did.
Your mom took my keys. Please come now.
She had typed it with one thumb while holding Eli in Diane’s downstairs bathroom. She had almost deleted the message because it felt childish to summon her husband over car keys.
Noah had called her twice afterward.
Diane had been standing outside the bathroom door by then, asking whether Emily planned to embarrass her in front of everyone.
Emily had ignored the calls.
“I didn’t know you called police,” she said.
“I didn’t know what I was driving into.”
A little bitterness escaped her.
“You’ve known your mother thirty-one years.”
He accepted that without defending himself.
“I’ll be outside.”
Officer Hall waited until the door shut.
Then he pulled another chair closer, though not so close that Emily felt crowded.
“Tell me what happened from the beginning.”
Emily looked down at Eli.
His eyelids had already begun to sag again.
She envied him with an intensity that almost made her laugh.
“The beginning is kind of the problem,” she said.
Hall waited.
Emily drew a breath.
“We’re staying here temporarily. Our condo had a pipe burst in the unit above us. Most of the ceiling in the nursery had to come down. Insurance is still arguing with the contractor about part of it. We thought we’d be here maybe a week.”
“How long has it been?”
“Eleven days.”
“And today?”
“Today was supposed to be Diane and Frank’s thirty-fifth anniversary.”
Hall glanced at the door.
“Frank?”
“My husband’s father. He died two years ago.”
The officer paused.
Emily gave a tired little shrug.
“She still has the party every year.”
That was the first thing all night that sounded absurd when spoken aloud.
Diane called it an anniversary dinner, though there was only one spouse left to celebrate it. She printed Frank’s favorite photograph on cocktail napkins. She ordered the same lemon cake he had complained was too sweet when he was alive. Guests told the same stories about him, and Diane corrected them if they got details wrong.
Noah found the tradition uncomfortable but harmless.
Emily had found many things harmless until they accumulated.
“She wanted me downstairs by five,” Emily said. “Eli had been awake most of the afternoon. I told her I’d come down when I got him settled.”
“What happened then?”
“She came upstairs twice.”
“To your room?”
“Yes.”
“Did she knock?”
Emily looked at him.
“No.”
Hall made a note.
“She said guests were asking where I was. I came down around five-thirty. I helped put food out. I cleared plates. I was holding Eli most of the time because he’s been fussy in the evenings.”
The baby made a soft noise as if objecting to the description.
Emily rubbed his back automatically.
“She kept telling me to put him in the upstairs crib.”
“Did you want to?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Emily hesitated.
Because Diane had begun acting as though every minute Emily held her own baby was an accusation.
Because on the third day of their stay, Diane had said, You’re going to make him dependent if you pick him up every time he cries.
Because on the fifth, she had taken Eli from Emily’s arms without asking.
Because yesterday morning, Emily had walked into the kitchen and found Diane telling a neighbor that Emily had “a hard time coping.”
Because this afternoon Diane had stood over her while she fed Eli and said, You should really be pumping more so other people can bond with him.
None of those things sounded like police things.
Emily understood that.
“They’ve been arguing about how I take care of him,” she said.
“Who’s they?”
“Me and Diane.”
“Did it become physical before tonight?”
Emily almost said no.
Then she remembered Diane blocking the stairway two nights earlier during an argument about taking the baby outside in the cold.
She had not touched Emily.
She had merely stood there.
At the time, Emily had stepped backward because it seemed easier.
“No,” Emily said. Then, “Not touching. No.”
Hall looked at her long enough that she knew he had heard the correction.
“What happened before she grabbed you?”
Emily told him about the wineglass.
One of Diane’s friends had asked Emily whether she was breastfeeding. Another had answered for her. Someone joked that new mothers believed they were the first women in history to have babies. Emily had smiled because she did not know what else to do.
Then Eli began crying.
Emily took him into the den.
Diane followed.
She said Emily was being rude.
Emily said she was tired.
Diane said everybody was tired.
Emily said she was going to leave for the night.
That was when she discovered her keys were not in her purse.
“She told me she put them away.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Why?”
“She said I was too upset to drive.”
May you like
“Were you?”
Emily almost smiled.
