Chương 6
“I found them last week.”
“Why didn’t you put them back?”
“Because Vanessa told me not to.”
“And you listened?”
Maria’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I work here.”
The answer hit where it had the night before.
Ethan crouched and picked up one of the photographs.
Claire stood in the snow outside the house, wearing his coat over her pajamas.
She had run outside to see the first storm of the year.
She died seven months after the picture was taken.
Ethan set it back.
“What was the other reason?”
Maria looked at the shelves.
“She told me you wanted the house changed.”
Ethan went still.
“What?”
“She said you asked her to put away some of Claire’s things because it was making it harder for you to move on.”
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
Maria looked at him.
“Because last month I saw you stop in front of Claire’s picture in the upstairs hall.”
He waited.
“You touched the frame.”
Ethan had no memory of doing it.
Maria did.
“I thought if you wanted everything gone, you wouldn’t do that.”
“So you started questioning Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“And she threatened your job.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you ask me directly?”
Maria gave him a tired look.
“I tried.”
He sat down on a stack of folded blankets.
There was no dignified way to receive that answer.
“So the reason you waited is me.”
“Partly.”
“Don’t soften it.”
“I’m not.”
She leaned against the doorframe.
“You were difficult to talk to after Claire died.”
Ethan almost laughed.
“Difficult.”
“You want a stronger word?”
“No.”
“You would listen for thirty seconds and then look at your phone.”
He looked at the watch on his wrist.
Maria noticed.
“You’re doing it now.”
His hand dropped.
“That was cruel.”
“It was true.”
“Still.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.”
Noah shouted from the hallway.
Both of them moved at once.
He had escaped the kitchen with a blueberry still in his fist and was toddling toward the staircase.
Ethan reached him first.
“Absolutely not.”
Noah laughed.
It was the first laugh Ethan had heard from him since coming home.
The sound was so ordinary that Ethan had to look away.
By eight, he had called his attorney.
Not Caroline.
His own.
Benjamin Shore had represented Ethan personally for twelve years and disliked drama enough to make a living from other people’s.
Ethan spoke to him from the study while Noah played on the rug.
“I need family counsel,” Ethan said.
Ben was silent for a moment.
“That sentence usually arrives with more profanity.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“What happened?”
Ethan told him the minimum.
Ben asked practical questions.
Was Noah physically injured?
No.
Any threats?
No.
Did Vanessa leave voluntarily?
Yes.
Was she attempting to return immediately?
Not yet.
Did Ethan believe Noah was in immediate physical danger?
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t the same answer.”
“I don’t believe she’s going to hit him.”
“Okay.”
“I believe something happened.”
“Also okay.”
“What do I do?”
“First, don’t turn your house into a private courtroom.”
“I’m not.”
“You have two security guards stationed at the entrance.”
“They’re always there.”
“Then don’t add six more.”
Ethan rubbed his face.
Ben continued.
“Second, get a child-development professional. Not somebody hired to prove your wife is terrible. Somebody who can help you understand what behavior you’re actually seeing.”
“Okay.”
“Third, preserve records you already have lawful access to. Household schedules, security system changes, your own messages, shared family communications. Don’t guess passwords. Don’t secretly install microphones.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You own a technology company.”
“I own a logistics company.”
“Rich men hear ‘preserve evidence’ and become sixteen-year-olds with spyware.”
Despite himself, Ethan smiled.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Do not threaten Vanessa financially.”
“I haven’t.”
“Do not lock her out of every account because you’re angry.”
“I haven’t.”
“Do not announce a divorce to your board.”
“I definitely haven’t.”
“And don’t fire the nanny.”
Ethan looked through the study doors.
Maria was sitting on the floor with Noah, showing him how to stack wooden blocks.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because in messy family disputes, people remove the person who knows the most because it feels cleaner.”
Ethan watched Maria deliberately place a block upside down.
Noah corrected her.
She looked impressed.
He laughed.
“I don’t want cleaner.”
“Good.”
Ben paused.
“Do you want to stay married?”
Ethan looked at Claire’s locket around Noah’s neck.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s allowed.”
“I should know.”
“No.”
“I married her.”
“Yes.”
“That should mean I know something.”
Ben sighed.
“Ethan, marriage is not an intelligence test.”
“I’m starting to think mine was.”
“Don’t do that yet.”
“Do what?”
“Convert shame into certainty.”
Ethan leaned back.
“Since when are you useful?”
“Since billing became hourly.”
They ended the call.
At nine fifteen, Vanessa texted.
I want to see Noah.
Ethan stared at the message.
His first instinct was no.
His second was to show Maria.
He did neither.
He called Ben back.
Then he called a child psychologist recommended by Noah’s pediatrician, Dr. Rachel Kim.
She could meet them that afternoon.
Not as an evaluator.
As a consultant.
That distinction mattered to her, so Ethan forced himself to let it matter to him.
At ten, he answered Vanessa.
I’m speaking with Dr. Kim this afternoon. I’ll respond after that.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
You need a psychologist to tell you whether your wife can see your son?
Ethan typed three different replies.
Deleted all of them.
Finally:
I need help making decisions that are about Noah, not about us.
Vanessa did not answer.
At noon, Ethan’s mother called.
He considered ignoring it.
He answered.
“Hello.”
“Are you getting divorced?”
He closed his eyes.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“It’s noon.”
“Then good afternoon.”
“Vanessa called me crying.”
“Of course she did.”
“Do not use that tone with me.”
“I’m thirty-eight.”
“And still capable of being rude.”
May you like
Ethan walked into the breakfast room.
Maria was trying to convince Noah that crackers were not lunch.
