Chương 13
He discovered he did not miss them.
Claire enjoyed that part more than she should have.
“I always hated those people.”
“You never met most of them.”
“I hated them efficiently.”
“You and Elena would get along.”
“We do.”
Richard looked alarmed.
That summer, Richard reduced his executive role.
Not dramatically.
He did not retire at forty.
He did not sell everything and become a stay-at-home father after one revelation.
He delegated more.
He missed some meetings.
He kept others.
He still took calls at bad times.
He still made mistakes.
Once, during a weekend at the mansion, Lily found him answering email during a movie.
She paused the television.
Richard looked up.
“What?”
“You’re working.”
“It’s one message.”
“You said movie.”
“I’m watching.”
“What happened?”
Richard looked at the screen.
A cartoon dog stood beside a volcano.
He had no idea.
Lily held out her hand.
“Phone.”
He stared.
“You’re confiscating my phone?”
“Yes.”
“I’m your father.”
“Exactly.”
He handed it over.
Lily placed it inside a decorative bowl across the room.
Richard looked at Elena.
She raised both hands.
“Not my department.”
He returned to the movie.
Ten minutes later, he whispered, “Why is the dog in Iceland?”
Lily sighed.
“You missed it.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Right.”
By the following fall, the legal guardianship arrangement changed.
Claire remained deeply involved in Lily’s life, but Richard assumed primary parental responsibility by agreement rather than through a custody fight.
The arrangement took months.
Lawyers reviewed it.
A counselor spoke with Lily repeatedly.
Claire cried the night before Lily moved most of her belongings to the mansion.
So did Lily.
Richard stayed out of the way.
The next morning, Claire arrived carrying three trash bags of clothes despite Richard having sent proper garment boxes.
“They work,” she said.
“They are garbage bags.”
“They contain clothes.”
“They tear.”
“Then don’t carry them like a billionaire.”
Lily walked between them holding Teddy.
Her room at the mansion was not the enormous pink room Richard’s decorator had originally proposed.
Lily chose a smaller bedroom overlooking the garden.
The walls were pale green.
She kept the furniture from Claire’s apartment.
Richard offered to replace the chipped white dresser.
Lily said no.
Rebecca had painted it.
So it stayed.
The teddy bear slept on her bed.
The blue ribbon had been repaired by Elena, who used thread one shade darker than the original because it was the closest she could find.
Lily noticed.
She said she liked it better.
One rainy Sunday, almost two years after Vanessa threw the bear, Richard found Lily sitting on the hallway floor outside the blue sitting room.
She was eight now.
Longer legs.
Missing one front tooth.
The cardigan had been replaced by a navy sweatshirt.
Teddy looked smaller in her lap.
Richard sat beside her.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
He nodded.
He had learned what that meant.
For a while they listened to rain against the tall windows.
Lily traced the blue ribbon with one finger.
“This is where it happened.”
Richard looked toward the marble.
“Yes.”
“I used to dream about it.”
He waited.
“Vanessa throwing Teddy.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t anymore.”
He looked at her.
Lily leaned her head against the wall.
“I remember you standing there.”
“I remember too.”
“You looked scary.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Not good.”
“Sorry.”
“You looked like you wanted to kill her.”
Richard stared at the opposite wall.
“I was very angry.”
“Would you have?”
“No.”
Lily seemed satisfied.
After a moment she said, “I think she was scared too.”
Richard looked at her.
“Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She looked scared when you talked.”
Richard considered this.
“She was.”
“That doesn’t mean what she did was okay.”
“No.”
“But she was still scared.”
“Yes.”
Lily rubbed Teddy’s ear.
“Aunt Claire says people can do bad things because they’re scared.”
“They can.”
“You did bad things to Mom.”
Richard felt the old wound open.
Not as sharply as before.
“Yes.”
“Not like Vanessa.”
“No.”
“But bad.”
“Yes.”
Lily looked at him.
“You don’t get mad when I say that anymore.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s true.”
She nodded.
Richard glanced at the bear.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“No.”
So they stayed on the floor.
A minute later Elena walked past carrying folded towels.
She stopped.
“What are you two doing?”
“Nothing,” Lily said.
Elena looked at Richard.
“Nothing.”
Elena nodded.
“Very productive.”
She continued down the hallway.
Lily smiled.
Richard leaned his head back against the wall.
Rain darkened the garden outside.
For once, he did not check his phone.
The following February, Richard went to Rebecca’s grave.
Claire invited him.
Lily walked between them.
The cemetery was smaller than Richard had imagined.
He had spent months constructing it in his mind as something grander, darker, more punishing.
Instead, it sat behind an ordinary brick church beside a road where delivery trucks passed every few minutes.
Rebecca’s stone was simple.
Rebecca Anne Mercer.
Beloved Mother, Sister, Friend.
Richard stared at the dates.
Thirty-five years.
Claire placed flowers down.
Lily set Teddy on the grass while she cleaned a few dead leaves from the stone.
Richard crouched.
His hands felt useless.
He had brought nothing.
Claire noticed.
“You don’t have to perform.”
He looked at her.
“I didn’t know what to bring.”
“Exactly.”
Lily sat cross-legged.
“Tell her something.”
Richard swallowed.
“I don’t think—”
“She can’t hear you.”
Claire said, “Lily.”
“What? She can’t.”
Richard almost laughed.
Lily looked at him.
“You can still say it.”
Richard stared at Rebecca’s name.
He had imagined apologies before.
Long ones.
Perfect ones.
The kind people make when the person they failed can no longer interrupt.
Now none of them seemed honest.
Finally he said, “Lily hates running.”
Claire covered her mouth.
Lily laughed.
Richard looked at the stone.
“She likes dinosaurs more than I expected.”
“I like three dinosaurs.”
“That’s more than average.”
“Keep going.”
Richard nodded.
May you like
“She cheats at Uno.”
“I do not.”
