Chương 2
Margaret noticed.
Of course she noticed.
A tiny piece of control returned to her expression.
“Not yet,” she said.
Walter nodded once.
“Then I’m going to ask everyone to give you space.”
Alexander looked toward Sophie again.
Victoria hated the hunger in his face.
Not because it seemed false.
Because it did not.
Sophie’s eyes were his.
Victoria had spent seven years pretending that fact belonged only to biology.
She had been lying to herself.
Alexander crouched slightly, then stopped before lowering himself to Sophie’s level. He seemed to realize that approaching a child who did not know him would be for his benefit, not hers.
“What’s her name?”
Victoria answered before Sophie could.
“Sophie.”
He nodded.
“Sophie.”
She stared at him.
Alexander’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Sophie leaned toward Victoria and whispered, “Do we know him?”
Victoria closed her eyes for less than a second.
“Yes.”
That was all she could manage.
Alexander heard.
His face tightened.
Margaret said, “Alexander, we should go somewhere private.”
He turned toward her so slowly that the movement frightened Victoria more than shouting would have.
“You and I have had seven years of private.”
Margaret looked around the lounge.
“People are recording.”
“Good.”
“Alexander.”
“Did you know?”
Margaret’s lips pressed together.
Alexander stepped closer.
“Before she was born. Did you know Victoria was pregnant?”
Victoria expected Margaret to deny it.
She almost needed her to.
Margaret glanced at Sophie.
That was enough.
Alexander saw it too.
His face emptied.
Margaret lowered her voice.
“I knew what Victoria claimed.”
Victoria laughed once.
It was an ugly sound, and she immediately wished Sophie had not heard it.
“What I claimed?”
“You were both unstable. Your father was in intensive care. The acquisition was collapsing. You had told me yourself you didn’t know whether you and Victoria were going to survive the month.”
Alexander’s eyes did not leave his mother.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It was not a simple situation.”
“Did you know?”
Margaret’s silence lasted perhaps two seconds.
Victoria had waited seven years for it.
“Yes.”
Sophie shifted beside her.
Alexander closed his eyes.
The ship vibrated faintly beneath their feet.
When he opened them, he looked older.
Not seven years older.
More.
Victoria slipped the letter back into the handbag.
“We’re leaving.”
Alexander turned to her.
“Please.”
She had once been able to distinguish ten different meanings in the way he said that word.
Tonight she recognized only desperation.
“I need to talk to you.”
“No.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s a conversation for another day.”
“Victoria.”
She bent toward Sophie.
“Coat.”
Sophie nodded.
A young attendant near the cloakroom hurried to retrieve their things.
Alexander followed them two steps before stopping himself.
“Can I call you?”
Victoria looked at him.
“You had my number seven years ago.”
His face flinched.
It was a cruel thing to say.
She knew it when she said it.
She did not take it back.
Outside the observation lounge, the corridor was quieter. Dark wood, brass railings, framed photographs of the river taken decades before either of them had been born.
Sophie walked beside her without speaking.
Victoria could hear her own heels against the floor.
The attendant met them with their coats.
Victoria helped Sophie into hers.
Sophie pushed one arm into the wrong sleeve, something she had not done since kindergarten.
Victoria fixed it.
Her hands were shaking badly now.
“Mom.”
“What?”
Sophie looked past her toward the closed lounge doors.
“Is that man my dad?”
Victoria had planned for this question.
She had discussed it with Dr. Patel, Sophie’s pediatrician, and then with a child therapist whose office had pale green walls and a basket of wooden animals no child apparently touched.
She had rehearsed simple language.
No blame.
No false certainty until supervised testing.
Do not burden the child with adult betrayal.
Do not make promises for another parent.
All of that training disappeared.
Victoria crouched in her evening gown and said, “I think he is.”
Sophie frowned.
“You think?”
“We’re going to do another test so everybody knows for sure.”
“Does he know me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Victoria glanced toward the lounge.
The door remained closed.
“Because the grown-ups made some very bad mistakes.”
Sophie considered this.
“Did you?”
The question landed exactly where it should have.
“Yes.”
Victoria’s voice cracked.
She cleared it.
“Yes, baby. I did too.”
Sophie nodded with the solemnity children sometimes used when adults finally gave them an answer that did not sound polished.
Then she asked, “Can we still get hot chocolate?”
Victoria almost laughed.
It hurt too much.
“Yes.”
The ship would not return to the dock for another twenty-three minutes.
They found an almost empty café on the deck below.
A bartender in a white jacket made Sophie hot chocolate from a machine that whined loudly enough to make conversation difficult. Victoria ordered sparkling water and forgot to drink it.
Sophie stirred whipped cream into the chocolate until it disappeared.
“Did Grandma know?”
Victoria looked at her.
“My mom?”
Sophie nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did she meet him?”
“A long time ago.”
“Did she like him?”
Victoria stared at the rain crawling across the smaller window beside their table.
Her mother had liked Alexander against her better judgment.
That had irritated Victoria at the time.
“He says thank you to waiters,” her mother had once whispered after dinner. “That’s more than I expected.”
Victoria had rolled her eyes.
Now she said, “Sometimes.”
Sophie accepted this.
Children understood complicated affection better than adults liked to believe.
“Are you mad at him?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You looked mad.”
“I was.”
“You hit the grandma.”
Victoria put both hands around her untouched water.
“Yes.”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
“No.”
Sophie’s expression contained neither accusation nor approval.
Just information gathering.
Victoria forced herself to keep looking at her.
“I should not have hit her.”
“But she did the seven-years thing.”
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
Sophie took another sip.
May you like
A little foam remained on her upper lip.
Victoria reached for a napkin, then stopped. Sophie wiped it herself.
