Chương 10
“I’m sorry.”
She leaned against the wall.
“For which part?”
“All of it.”
“That is too large to be useful.”
“I don’t know how to divide it yet.”
The nurse called Margaret’s name.
“I have treatment.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I am telling you now.”
“What treatment?”
“The treatment I have every three weeks.”
“I thought you were done.”
“No.”
The silence on his end changed.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“When it was relevant.”
“I’m your son.”
“Yes.”
“That makes it relevant.”
Margaret watched the nurse wait beside the open door.
“I cannot do this now.”
“Can I come?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Because she did not want him in the infusion room making his guilt the most important illness there. Because she had protected him from fear so long that even his concern felt like another demand. Because she wanted him to come without asking what she preferred.
“No,” she said again.
She ended the call.
An hour into the infusion, Jackson appeared anyway.
He did not approach her immediately. He stood near the reception desk holding two coffees, looked around the room, and seemed to understand that no entrance could be private there. People sat beneath warmed blankets. Machines beeped at irregular intervals. A woman near the window slept with her mouth open.
Jackson walked over and placed one coffee on the small table beside Margaret.
“I know you said no.”
“Yes.”
“I brought decaf.”
“It tastes terrible.”
“I remember.”
He sat in the empty chair beside her.
Margaret looked at him.
“Did you leave Natalie?”
“I told her I need space.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No. I haven’t decided.”
She turned toward the IV tubing.
He removed the lid from his coffee and immediately put it back.
After several minutes, he said, “She admitted she made the comment Ethan heard.”
Margaret looked at him.
“She says it was taken out of context.”
“What context improves it?”
“She was angry. She said you had embarrassed her about the foundation and refused to let Diane sit at the family table.”
“Diane was seated at the family table.”
“The closest family table.”
“There were three.”
“I know.”
He rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“Natalie says she called you a bald old woman. She denies writing the note.”
Margaret studied his face.
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe she said it.”
“That was not my question.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“I think she wrote it.”
The words seemed to cost him physically. His shoulders dropped after he said them.
“Why now?” Margaret asked.
“Because I found the draft.”
“What draft?”
“She keeps notes in an app for handwritten cards. Phrases, reminders. There was one from two weeks ago that said, ‘ridiculous old woman.’”
“That proves very little.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“She lied about Ethan. She told me she had never spoken to him before the wedding.”
Margaret waited.
“And?”
Jackson stared at the floor.
“She asked me last month whether the transfer could happen before the ceremony. She said it would make everything less stressful. I told her no. She asked whether you could change your mind.”
“What did you say?”
“That you wouldn’t.”
The machine beside Margaret clicked.
A nurse adjusted the line and moved away.
Jackson continued.
“I made you sound like an obstacle we had already beaten.”
Margaret looked toward the sleeping woman near the window.
“Why?”
“Because Natalie was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of being poor again.”
Margaret glanced at him.
“Again?”
“Diane’s house is mortgaged. Her father’s company collapsed before he died. Natalie paid some of Diane’s bills. She has debt.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You married her without knowing?”
“She said it was handled.”
Margaret almost laughed, but the words were too familiar.
“What did she believe the transfer would do?”
“Pay Northgate. Buy Diane’s house. Fund the foundation project. Give us room.”
“Room from what?”
He looked at her.
“You.”
Margaret turned back to the IV line.
The answer should have angered her. Instead it left a dull space.
She had always assumed Jackson returned because he needed her. It had not occurred to her that he experienced needing her as suffocation.
After treatment, he drove her home.
He did not turn on the radio. At a red light, he reached for his phone, stopped himself, and placed both hands on the steering wheel.
Margaret watched pedestrians cross.
“Your father hated asking me for money,” she said.
Jackson looked straight ahead.
“I’m not him.”
“No.”
“You keep bringing him up.”
“Because I did not understand him until after he died.”
“And you understand me?”
“No.”
The light changed.
Jackson drove.
At the house, he carried her bag inside and placed it on the kitchen chair. He opened the refrigerator, stared at the labeled containers, and chose one.
“You don’t have to stay,” Margaret said.
“I know.”
He heated chicken and rice. The microwave beeped twice because he forgot to remove the plastic lid. He swore, peeled it back, and wiped condensation from the counter.
Margaret sat at the table.
“Did Natalie know how sick I was?” she asked.
Jackson turned.
“I told her you were in treatment.”
“What did you say?”
“That the prognosis was good.”
“I did not tell you that.”
“You said the doctors were optimistic.”
“I said they had a plan.”
He looked down at the food.
“I heard what I needed.”
“Yes.”
He brought the container to the table and found a plate.
Margaret ate four bites.
He did not mention the wedding.
Before leaving, he put his ring on the counter.
Margaret looked at it.
“What is that?”
“I can’t wear it right now.”
“Take it with you.”
“I don’t want to lose it.”
“It is not mine to keep.”
He picked it up again.
At the door, he said, “The board found emails.”
“What kind?”
“I sent internal occupancy forecasts to Northgate.”
“Were they confidential?”
“Yes.”
May you like
Margaret waited for him to continue.
“I also told them the family office had approved the transfer.”
