Chương 5
“That was nine minutes ago.”
Margaret tightened both hands on the wheel. “You are injured.”
“I know.”
“There could be more damage than we can see.”
“They’re bruises.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can feel my body.”
“I am not suggesting otherwise.”
“It sounds like you are.”
Margaret took the next exit without intending to. They ended up on a commercial road lined with a pharmacy, a pet supply store, and a diner shaped like a silver railroad car.
She pulled into the diner parking lot and turned off the engine.
“Why are we here?” Elena asked.
“Because I cannot argue and drive at the same time.”
“You’ve done it before.”
“Not well.”
The air conditioner stopped. Heat began collecting beneath the windshield.
Margaret looked at her daughter. “I am frightened.”
Elena’s eyes lowered.
“I am also angry,” Margaret continued. “Most of it is directed at Adrian. Some of it is directed at myself. A small and unfair portion keeps looking for somewhere easier to go.”
Elena rubbed the edge of her phone case.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Margaret said. “I am going to do parts of it badly.”
“You always say that after you’ve already decided what to do.”
“I know.”
A family emerged from the diner carrying paper cups. A little boy dragged a balloon along the asphalt while his father told him not to. For several seconds, Margaret and Elena watched the balloon bounce against parked cars.
Elena said, “I don’t want to go to a hospital.”
“All right.”
“I don’t want anyone from the wedding finding out yet.”
“That may not be possible.”
“I know.”
“I will not call the police without your permission.”
Elena looked at her quickly.
Margaret forced herself to continue. “Unless I believe you are in immediate danger and cannot decide for yourself.”
“That sounds like a loophole.”
“It is one. I’m trying to be honest.”
Elena nodded.
“Will you see someone privately?” Margaret asked. “A doctor, a clinic, whoever you choose. No emergency room unless they advise it.”
After a long pause, Elena said, “Maybe.”
Margaret started the engine again.
“Maybe is not yes.”
“No.”
“But it is not no.”
“No.”
They drove to Margaret’s house.
The house stood on a tree-lined street twenty miles from Bellamy House, large enough to embarrass Margaret when she said she lived alone and small enough that Vivian had once described it as charming. Daniel had bought it the year Elena was born. After his death, Margaret had changed very little. His umbrella still hung in the coat closet, though the fabric had rotted around one spoke.
Elena entered through the kitchen and stopped beside the old oak table.
A bowl of peaches sat beneath the window. One had softened and collapsed against another, leaving a dark crescent in its skin.
“You still buy too many,” Elena said.
“They come in sixes.”
“You live alone.”
“They should sell them in widow quantities.”
Elena looked at her.
Margaret opened the refrigerator. “That was a joke.”
“I know.”
“Not a good one.”
“No.”
Margaret took out a pitcher of iced tea. “You used to laugh at bad jokes.”
“I used to be nine.”
“You had better manners then.”
Elena sat at the table and put her phone face down. It vibrated immediately.
Then again.
Margaret poured two glasses and set one in front of her.
“Do you want me to look?” she asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to turn it off?”
“No.”
“Do you want to throw it into the yard?”
Elena almost smiled. “Maybe later.”
The phone vibrated a third time.
Elena picked it up.
Margaret watched her read.
“What is he saying?”
“He wants to know whether I took the blue folder.”
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t keep a blue folder in your room?”
“No.”
“Rosa said it was on your desk.”
“It wasn’t there this morning.”
Margaret looked toward the overnight case on the floor.
Elena did not move.
“Do you want to open the bag?” Margaret asked.
“No.”
The phone rang. Adrian’s name filled the screen.
Elena rejected the call.
A message appeared seconds later.
Please confirm that the folder is secure. It contains confidential family material.
Margaret read it upside down.
“That sounds like bait,” she said.
“Or it contains confidential family material.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
Another message arrived.
Do not open it. I will send someone to collect it.
Elena stood so abruptly that her chair scraped the floor.
“Where are you going?” Margaret asked.
“To get it.”
“Do you want me there?”
“No.”
Elena carried the overnight case upstairs.
Margaret remained at the table. The refrigerator motor clicked on. Somewhere outside, a lawn mower moved back and forth with maddening patience.
She wanted to follow.
Instead, she sat on her hands.
Elena returned several minutes later holding a blue document envelope sealed with a white string. She placed it on the table.
“Did you open it?” Margaret asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does your instinct say?”
“My instinct said marry him.”
The bitterness in her voice startled them both.
Margaret reached for the iced tea. “Instinct is overrated.”
“You always said yours was excellent.”
“I was marketing.”
Elena sat down again.
The envelope had no label. One corner was bent. It looked ordinary enough to contain appliance warranties.
Adrian called again.
Elena silenced the phone.
“What if it really is private?” she asked.
“He put it in a bag that was sent with your belongings.”
“Rosa put it there.”
“He left it on your desk.”
“Maybe by accident.”
Margaret said nothing.
Elena looked at her. “You think he wanted me to take it.”
“I think he knew exactly what was in your room before you left.”
“Why?”
“To give you a reason to contact him. To accuse you of taking something. To make you afraid of what you have.”
“That sounds paranoid.”
“Yes.”
May you like
Elena’s gaze returned to the envelope. “It also sounds possible.”
Margaret got up to close the kitchen blinds.
