Chương 11
They argued for ten minutes.
The next day she apologized.
Her father left rehabilitation in April and moved into the renovated guest suite for six weeks. He complained that the mattress was too soft and the hallway art looked like “expensive weather.”
One morning he found Evelyn standing beside the damaged office drawer, which had been repaired but not replaced.
“You could buy a new desk,” he said.
“I like this one.”
“It sticks.”
“I know.”
He opened the drawer, felt the resistance, and pushed harder until it slid free.
“There.”
“You forced it.”
“Most drawers are not moral problems.”
She leaned against the desk.
Her father looked at the three returned black cards mounted in an evidence sleeve inside a folder.
“Why keep those?”
“Naomi says seven years.”
“I meant why look at them.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were standing with the folder open.”
Evelyn closed it.
Her father sat in the office chair. He had lost weight and moved carefully, but his color had improved.
“Grant called me,” he said.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
“To ask how I was.”
“What did you say?”
“That I was devastatingly handsome and medically underappreciated.”
“Dad.”
“He also asked whether he could visit.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“I told him that wasn’t my decision.”
“Good.”
“I also told him I’d have lunch with him elsewhere.”
“Why?”
“Because he sat beside me in the hospital when you were in Chicago and pretended not to be scared.”
“You don’t owe him lunch.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Her father looked toward the window. Outside, two gardeners argued about where to place a hose.
“Because people become simpler when we’re trying to leave them,” he said. “I don’t want to do that.”
Evelyn crossed her arms.
“You can have lunch with him.”
“I’m relieved to have your permission.”
“You said it wasn’t my decision.”
“It isn’t. But disapproval ruins soup.”
She laughed and hated him slightly for earning it.
Grant visited the villa once before the divorce became final.
He came to collect the photographs and a box of his father’s books. Luis remained on the property but stayed out of sight. Evelyn walked with Grant through the north hall.
The house had changed in small ways. A bench Vivian chose had been removed. Evelyn replaced a formal rug with one her father called aggressively beige. The Christmas silver remained in storage because it had always belonged to Evelyn’s mother, not the Mercers.
Grant paused outside the kitchen.
“Did you fix the door?” he asked.
“What door?”
“The one I said was crooked.”
“It was never crooked.”
“It dragged every summer.”
“Humidity.”
“That’s a door problem.”
She looked at him.
He smiled carefully.
In the storage room, his boxes were labeled. He opened one and found the photograph from the kitchen renovation.
“You kept this.”
“I kept all photographs until we divided them.”
He turned it over. “You wrote my face was crooked.”
“It was.”
“Still is.”
“A little.”
He placed the photograph in his box.
At the front entrance, he stopped beside the tall oak door. The actual bronze gate was visible beyond the drive, intact and closed.
“My mother wants to see the house once,” he said.
“No.”
“I told her you’d say that.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because I said I would.”
Evelyn waited.
“She says there are things here that belonged to my father.”
“We inventoried everything. Claire received the list.”
“I know.”
“Then she doesn’t need to come.”
“No.”
He shifted the box in his arms.
Evelyn said, “Do you think I’m punishing her?”
“Yes.”
The honesty startled her.
He added, “I also think you’re protecting yourself. Both can be true.”
She looked toward the gate.
“What does she want to see?”
“The terrace. The library. I don’t know. Maybe whether the place still exists without her.”
“That isn’t my responsibility.”
“No.”
“Stop agreeing so quickly.”
He almost laughed.
Evelyn opened the front door.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
Vivian’s supervised visit took place a month later.
Claire brought her. Grant did not attend. Evelyn limited the visit to one hour and required Naomi’s written access agreement, though Naomi said the agreement was excessive.
Vivian arrived in a gray sedan instead of the chauffeured car she normally used. She wore trousers, low shoes, and a pale coat. Her hair remained immaculate.
At the gate, she handed Luis every key she still possessed.
There were seven.
Two had never appeared on the inventory.
Luis labeled each one without comment.
Vivian entered the house and stopped in the foyer.
The villa had not changed dramatically, but the absence of her choices disturbed her. The silver bench was gone. The floral arrangement beneath the staircase had been replaced by a bowl of lemons. The portrait photographer she recommended had been removed from the library wall.
“You moved the Bellini,” she said.
“It was on loan,” Evelyn replied.
“I arranged the loan.”
“It ended.”
Vivian walked to the terrace. Spring rain had darkened the stone. The pool was covered, and the gardens had not yet reached full color.
“I planned Claire’s wedding out here,” she said.
“Claire isn’t engaged.”
“One plans before announcements.”
Evelyn did not answer.
Vivian touched the back of a chair but did not sit.
“I had the center aisle measured.”
“I know. The florist sent an invoice.”
A faint flush rose in Vivian’s face.
They moved through the library, ballroom, and north hall. Vivian found no hidden Mercer inheritance because none existed. The books belonging to her husband had been packed for Grant. A pair of cuff links found in a guest-room drawer had already been returned. Three framed family photographs waited in tissue paper.
Vivian lifted one showing Grant and Claire as children.
“I thought this was lost.”
“It was behind a cabinet.”
“You could have sent it.”
“I offered the inventory to Claire.”
“You always use procedure when kindness would be easier.”
May you like
Evelyn looked at her. “Procedure is what people use after kindness has been treated as permission.”
Vivian placed the photograph back in the box.
