Chương 10
By eight thirty, the first guest texted asking whether the rumor was true.
At nine, the museum director called.
Dr. Peter Lyle had hired Elena six years earlier. He was careful with his words in the manner of a man who believed care and kindness were the same thing.
“I heard there may have been a change in plans,” he said.
“The wedding is canceled.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you all right?”
Elena looked at the blue folder on the table. “I will be.”
There was a pause.
“Adrian called me this morning,” Peter said.
Margaret stopped sorting contracts.
“What did he say?” Elena asked.
“He was concerned about you.”
“In what way?”
“He said you were under significant pressure and may need time away from the exhibition.”
Elena’s face became unreadable.
“Do you think I need time away?”
“I think you should take care of yourself.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Peter cleared his throat. “The foundation’s support is important. But it is not more important than your health.”
“He told you I was unstable.”
“He did not use that word.”
“What word did he use?”
Another pause.
“Overwhelmed.”
Elena looked at the draft complaint.
“Peter, there is a letter in front of me that Adrian prepared for you. It says I have shown increasing emotional instability and should not have access to fragile materials.”
Margaret heard a faint movement on the other end of the call.
“I have not received such a letter,” Peter said.
“He drafted it.”
“That is concerning.”
“Is it untrue?”
“I have seen no professional reason to question your work.”
“Then say that.”
“I just did.”
“No. You said you’ve seen no professional reason. Say whether you believe I am safe around the collection.”
Peter exhaled. “Yes. I believe you are safe around the collection.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“And the grant?” she asked.
“That is a separate issue.”
“It isn’t separate to him.”
“No,” Peter said quietly. “I suppose it isn’t.”
The Bellamy Foundation had not formally withdrawn funding. Peter promised to speak with the museum’s legal and development teams before making any decisions. He also asked Elena not to come to work until Monday.
“For my health?” she asked.
“For privacy,” he said.
“Whose?”
He did not answer quickly enough.
After the call, Elena went outside and sat on the back steps.
Margaret followed with two cups of coffee but stayed near the door.
“He suspended me,” Elena said.
“He asked you to stay home for one workday.”
“He asked me not to be seen.”
“That is different.”
“Is it?”
Margaret handed her a cup.
Elena took it, tasted it, and frowned. “This has sugar.”
“You always take sugar.”
“Not for three years.”
Margaret looked at her own cup. “Then I have apparently been drinking yours.”
Elena laughed despite herself. The laugh turned into a sob so quickly that Margaret nearly moved toward her.
She waited.
Elena covered her face.
“I hate that he can do this,” she said. “One phone call, and I disappear from my own work.”
“You are not disappearing.”
“I’m sitting behind your house while everyone decides whether I’m fragile.”
Margaret sat beside her.
The lawn needed cutting. Daniel had once insisted on doing it himself, even after they could afford help. He claimed riding in small rectangles was the only task in his life with visible results.
Margaret watched a squirrel hang upside down from the bird feeder.
“What would not disappearing look like?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Calling the museum board?”
“No.”
“Telling your team directly?”
“Maybe.”
“Going to work anyway?”
“Peter asked me not to.”
“That has rarely stopped you.”
Elena stared into her coffee.
“I want to tell Tess,” she said.
Tess Harper had been Elena’s closest friend since college and was supposed to stand beside her at the wedding. Adrian disliked Tess in the controlled, courteous way he disliked anyone who asked Elena questions in private.
“Then tell her.”
“She’ll hate him.”
“That seems survivable.”
“She’ll hate me for not telling her.”
Margaret said nothing.
Elena looked at her. “You could deny that.”
“I don’t think she will hate you.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
Elena called Tess.
Tess arrived forty minutes later wearing running clothes and two different socks. She entered the kitchen, saw Elena, and stopped so abruptly that the screen door struck her shoulder.
“What happened?”
Elena’s rehearsed explanation lasted less than a minute.
Tess listened without moving. When Elena finished, Tess took off her baseball cap and placed it on the table.
“How long?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“That is not a time.”
“Months.”
“What did he do?”
“Tess.”
“What did he do?”
Elena’s voice sharpened. “I’m telling you what I can tell you.”
Tess looked toward Margaret, perhaps expecting alliance.
Margaret picked up the coffee cups and carried them to the sink.
Tess sat down.
“I’m sorry,” she said, though anger still crowded her voice. “I’m trying not to say the wrong thing.”
“You’re doing badly.”
“I know.”
Elena looked at her.
Tess’s face crumpled. “You were going to marry him tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“I stood in that ridiculous warehouse for four hours choosing candles with you.”
“I know.”
“You let me talk about candles while this was happening?”
“It wasn’t happening every minute.”
Tess looked away.
The sentence seemed to offend her more than a denial would have.
Elena continued. “Sometimes we were happy. Sometimes he was kind. Sometimes I thought I was the problem. Sometimes I was the problem.”
“Did he hit you?”
“No.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Yes.”
Tess pressed both hands flat against the table.
“Can I see?”
Elena shook her head.
“Okay.”
The word came out rough.
They sat without speaking. Margaret wiped an already clean counter. A garbage truck groaned outside and dropped a bin hard enough to make all three women jump.
Tess began to laugh.
May you like
“I’m sorry,” she said, covering her mouth. “That wasn’t funny.”
Elena laughed too, then Margaret did, and for several seconds the kitchen filled with the helpless, inappropriate laughter of people whose bodies had chosen relief without permission.
