Chương 7
Claire set the phone face down.
“You have a strange sense of fairness.”
“My mother called it inconvenient.”
“Your mother once threw a bowl of potato salad into a trash can because your aunt used sweet relish.”
“That was fair.”
Claire smiled despite herself.
Anna leaned back into the sofa. The quiet after the joke felt gentler than the quiet before it.
“You knew Serena was unhappy,” she said.
Claire’s smile faded.
“I knew she was overwhelmed.”
“That’s the phrase everyone uses when they don’t want to say angry.”
“I knew she felt crowded by the memorial plans.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried to tell you to give her room.”
“You told me not to mention Mom in every conversation.”
“And you didn’t speak to me for a week.”
“I spoke to you.”
“You sent me a photo of a broken toaster.”
“It was a good toaster.”
Claire laughed once, then covered her mouth.
Anna looked toward the suite door.
“Did Serena ever say she wanted the song canceled?”
“No.”
“Did she tell you she asked me to change the speech?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I told her it was her wedding and she could decide what speeches were given.”
Anna turned.
“You agreed with her?”
“I agreed she could choose the program. I did not agree with how she spoke to you.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“You left before I could.”
“You stood beside her.”
Claire rubbed her ring with her thumb. It was a habit Anna had seen for years, usually when Claire was about to say something she disliked admitting.
“I have been trying to keep this wedding intact,” Claire said. “Your mother asked me to look after both of you. Sometimes I interpreted that as preventing the two of you from making your grief everybody else’s responsibility.”
Anna felt the words settle.
“Did Serena say that?”
“No.”
“It sounds like her.”
“It sounds like me.”
Claire looked older than she had in the ballroom. Not dramatically. The room’s flat light showed the tiredness beneath her eyes and a line near her mouth makeup had not covered.
“I loved your mother,” she said. “But she could occupy a room when she wasn’t in it. After she died, you and Daniel both kept asking what she would have wanted. Serena kept trying to answer without ever having known her well enough. I felt sorry for her.”
“So you let her remove Mom from my speech.”
“I let her make a decision about her reception.”
“And the song?”
“I thought the song was staying.”
Anna looked down at her wrist.
Claire touched her shoulder. “You are allowed to be angry with me.”
“I’m trying to decide.”
“That’s fair.”
“I might be later.”
“That is also fair.”
The door opened before Daniel could knock. He had one hand raised.
Anna looked past him. “Where is Serena?”
“Downstairs.”
“Did she explain?”
“Yes.”
“Did it make sense?”
“Some of it.”
Claire stood. “I’m going to check on the guests.”
Daniel glanced at her. “You don’t have to manage this.”
“No one has to manage it. That’s the problem.”
She picked up her phone and left.
Daniel sat across from Anna.
“You forgot to give me this,” he said, placing her phone on the table.
“I found another way to ruin my afternoon.”
“You saw the video?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t read the comments.”
“I read six.”
“Why?”
“I thought the seventh might be written by a reasonable person.”
“Was it?”
“I didn’t get there.”
Daniel loosened his bow tie completely and pulled it from his collar. He folded it once, then again.
Anna watched him.
“What did Serena say?”
“That she felt like Mom was more present in our relationship than she was.”
Anna waited.
“She’s not entirely wrong,” he added.
“No.”
He looked surprised by her agreement.
“We do it,” Anna said. “We use Mom to end conversations.”
“I didn’t realize.”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I use her too.”
Daniel set the folded bow tie on the table.
Anna looked at the white shirt open at his throat. “Did Serena plan what happened?”
“No.”
“You believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe she’s sorry?”
“I believe she regrets it.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I don’t know.”
She pressed her lips together.
Daniel leaned forward. “Anna, tell me what you want.”
“I want my wrist not to hurt.”
“I mean about the wedding.”
“It isn’t my wedding.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. That’s why I’m not answering.”
His patience thinned. “She grabbed you.”
“I was there.”
“Then stop acting like this is theoretical.”
“I’m trying not to tell you whether to marry someone because I have a bruise.”
“It’s not just the bruise.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you afraid of saying?”
Anna’s eyes filled again, and she hated him for noticing.
“I’m afraid if I say cancel it, you will. Then every person in this family will tell me you protected me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering whether you wanted to marry her and chose me because Mom was gone.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
Anna continued before she lost the nerve.
“And if I say marry her, you might do that too. Then I’ll wonder whether I helped you ignore the thing that should have stopped you.”
“You don’t have that kind of power over me.”
“You came here before you answered her.”
“Because I care what happened to you.”
“No. Because you want me to make the clean choice for you.”
Daniel stood abruptly.
The chair moved against the carpet.
“That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
“You think I’m asking permission?”
“I think you’re asking whether canceling makes you a good brother.”
He turned toward the window.
Anna let the silence remain.
May you like
When they were children, Daniel had once punched a boy who called her a runt. Their mother made him apologize, not for defending Anna, but for enjoying it.
Protection can become vanity, she had told him while icing his knuckles. Make sure you know which one you’re feeding.
