Chương 7
The story reached the local press the following morning.
The article did not name Nora or Elliot, but Bellwether House was named, as was an “adult member of the family who served in a leadership role at the estate.” By noon, a regional business website had identified Vivienne. By evening, strangers had posted photographs from Nora’s public engagement announcement beneath headlines about an attempted poisoning.
Nora hated the word.
No one had been poisoned. No one had drunk the tea. The baby was healthy. Her obstetrician had examined her twice and reminded her, gently, that stress was not improved by reading comments written by people with usernames such as HudsonTruthWarrior.
Still, the word spread because it was simple.
The truth was not.
Bellwether House canceled three weddings and a foundation luncheon after clients called asking whether their food would be safe. Staff members found reporters waiting near the service entrance. A bartender who had not worked the engagement dinner sold a photograph of the conservatory to a television station.
Margaret called Nora.
“I want you to know I do not blame you,” she said.
Nora stood in the grocery store comparing two brands of oatmeal.
“For what?”
“The attention.”
“I didn’t speak to the press.”
“I know. I’m saying I don’t blame you.”
“Then you don’t have to say it.”
Margaret exhaled. “This is difficult for all of us.”
A woman pushed a cart behind Nora, humming along to a song playing over the speakers.
“Did you know Vivienne wanted the wedding postponed?” Nora asked.
There was a pause.
“She thought everyone needed more time.”
“Everyone?”
“She was concerned about the financial arrangements.”
“Why?”
“I don’t involve myself in those matters.”
Nora placed the oatmeal in her cart.
Margaret had spent forty years at Bellwether House while claiming not to involve herself in the matters that preserved it. The performance of helplessness required its own kind of authority.
“Did she tell you she planned to make me look impaired at dinner?”
“Nora.”
“I’m asking.”
“Of course not.”
“Do you believe she put the medication in the tea?”
“I believe Vivienne has made mistakes.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
The phrase was becoming a family inheritance.
“I want you to care more about what she did than about who knows.”
Margaret’s silence lasted long enough for Nora to hear the grocery store freezer click on.
“You are not the only person who could lose something,” Margaret said.
Nora ended the call.
At home, she put the oatmeal in the refrigerator and did not notice until the next morning.
The foundation board suspended Vivienne pending investigation. Thomas took temporary control of estate operations while continuing his job in Manhattan. Within a week, he looked older.
Nora saw him twice.
The first time, they met at her apartment to discuss wedding vendors. The florist had offered to transfer their deposit. The band would return half if they canceled before December first. The hotel block required a decision.
They sat at Nora’s kitchen counter with a spreadsheet between them.
“It feels obscene to talk about centerpieces,” Thomas said.
“It feels practical.”
“Do you want to cancel?”
“Postpone.”
“Until when?”
“I don’t know.”
He nodded, but hurt moved across his face.
Nora touched his wrist. “I’m not ending us.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
He looked at her hand.
“At least that’s honest,” he said.
The second time, Thomas came to Elise’s house for Sunday dinner. Elliot had asked whether Thomas was still allowed to visit. Nora said yes before considering how complicated the evening might become.
Thomas arrived with a model airplane for Elliot and a lemon cake for Elise.
“You don’t need to bring gifts because your sister committed a crime,” Elise said at the door.
Thomas held out the cake. “The bakery had already boxed it.”
Elise took it.
Dinner was roast chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes from a packet Elise tried to disguise with real butter. Elliot spoke about a classmate who had claimed bats were birds. No one mentioned Bellwether until dessert.
Then Elliot asked, “Is Vivienne going to jail?”
Thomas put down his fork.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she tell you why she did it?”
“No.”
“She told the police she didn’t.”
“Yes.”
Elliot considered that. “The camera doesn’t show the medicine.”
“No.”
“Only the cup.”
“That’s right.”
“So maybe someone else put it in.”
Thomas’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Nora saw it and hated herself for seeing it.
Elliot added, “But she knew which cup.”
The relaxation vanished.
Elise cut a piece of cake she did not eat.
Thomas asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Because she brought it from the sideboard and kept looking at it.”
“Did you tell the interviewer that?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask whether Vivienne looked at it?”
“No. She asked what happened before Nora stood up.”
Thomas glanced at Nora. “I shouldn’t ask him anything else.”
“No,” Nora said. “You shouldn’t.”
Elliot looked between them. “I answered.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Thomas said.
The boy’s expression softened.
After dinner, Thomas helped him assemble the airplane at the dining table. One wing refused to fit.
“The instructions are bad,” Elliot said.
“I think I’m bad at instructions.”
“You build buildings.”
“I hire people who read instructions.”
Elliot gave him a grave look. “That seems expensive.”
Thomas laughed.
Nora watched from the doorway and felt love and resentment occupy the same space inside her.
Later, while Thomas washed dishes, Elise stood beside Nora at the counter.
“He’s good with Elliot,” she said.
“I know.”
“He is also still hoping his sister didn’t do what she probably did.”
“I know that too.”
“You can love someone who disappoints you.”
“Is that advice?”
“It’s an observation. I’m not qualified for advice. I kept marrying your father every morning for twenty-six years.”
“You were only married once.”
“That’s not how marriage feels.”
May you like
Nora looked at her mother.
Elise dried a plate and returned it to the cabinet while it was still wet.
