Chương 11
“Being reasonable five seconds after being unreasonable. It’s confusing.”
He laughed quietly.
Then his voice became serious.
“I’m going to send you something.”
“What?”
“A screenshot.”
Her phone vibrated.
Claire put Graham on speaker and opened the message.
It showed a list of recording sessions with dates and times.
Her eyes moved down.
One date stopped her.
March 18.
7:42 a.m.
She remembered March 18 because it was her sister’s birthday.
Claire had arrived early that morning.
Lillian had been in the kitchen.
Graham had been upstairs.
Claire had heard them arguing later.
The recording lasted fifty-three minutes.
Another date.
April 2.
1:14 p.m.
Claire had been cleaning Graham’s office.
She knew because she had spilled wood polish on the cuff of her old uniform and spent lunch trying to remove the stain.
The recording lasted twenty-one minutes.
“Graham.”
“Yes?”
“There are some when I was alone.”
“I know.”
Her stomach turned.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She nearly snapped at him again.
Then she stopped.
For once, the uncertainty frightened him as much as it frightened her.
“What do we do?”
“I’m talking to an attorney.”
Claire stiffened.
“Your attorney?”
“Not about you. About the recordings and what I should do with the device.”
“I need my own, don’t I?”
“I think you should get independent advice.”
Claire stared at the banking app notification at the top of her screen.
Independent advice sounded expensive.
As if reading her silence, Graham said, “I’ll pay—”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No. Then it’s not independent.”
He stopped.
She was proud of herself for approximately two seconds.
Then she opened a search engine and typed employment attorney consultation cost.
Pride became less exciting.
Graham said, “There may be organizations that can give you an initial consultation.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I know.”
She hated that answer less than his offer to fix it.
“Are you going to listen to the recordings?”
“Eventually.”
“Will you tell me if I’m on them?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“What?”
Claire pressed her lips together.
She had just realized what that would mean.
Graham listening to private recordings of her.
Perhaps Claire complaining on the phone to her sister while vacuuming.
Perhaps singing badly when she thought nobody was home.
Perhaps crying in the pantry the day her father’s insurance claim was denied.
Perhaps saying things about Lillian.
Perhaps saying things about Graham.
Her face burned.
“No. Don’t tell me. Not yet.”
“All right.”
“I need to think.”
“Okay.”
“And Graham?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t listen to anything with my voice unless somebody tells you that you legally can.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “I won’t.”
Claire believed him.
She wished trust felt simpler.
It did not.
At eleven thirty that morning, Lillian called.
Claire nearly dropped the phone.
She let it ring.
A voicemail appeared.
Claire stared at the notification for five minutes before playing it.
Lillian’s voice was composed.
“Claire. I would like to speak with you directly. Yesterday became unacceptable. I am not asking you to admit anything. I want to discuss your employment and make sure you are not dragged further into a private matter between Graham and me. Please call me.”
Claire played it twice.
The second time, she noticed Lillian said yesterday became unacceptable.
Not I made yesterday unacceptable.
Not I accused you wrongly.
Claire deleted nothing.
Then she did something she had never done before.
She wrote down the exact time of the call, copied the voicemail transcript into a document, and saved it.
Afterward, she felt foolish.
Then less foolish.
At noon, she heated soup.
At twelve fourteen, she forgot the soup in the microwave.
At twelve thirty-two, Lillian texted.
I am trying to protect you from something that is becoming much larger than it needs to be.
Claire read the sentence three times.
She did not answer.
At one seventeen:
Please do not confuse Graham’s anger at me with loyalty to you.
That one hurt.
Claire hated that it hurt because she had never believed Graham was loyal to her.
Still, the sentence found the insecurity precisely.
Employees were temporary.
Marriages were complicated but permanent until legal documents said otherwise.
Claire could be useful to Graham today and inconvenient tomorrow.
She saved the message.
At two o’clock, her sister called.
Claire answered.
“You’re not working,” her sister said immediately.
“How do you know?”
“You answered.”
Claire looked around the apartment.
“That’s rude.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Did you get fired?”
Claire was silent.
“Oh, no.”
“I may have been fired.”
“How do you maybe get fired?”
“It’s complicated.”
Her sister groaned.
“I hate rich people already.”
“You don’t know any rich people.”
“I know enough.”
Claire sat on the couch.
For twenty minutes, she told a reduced version.
She left out the recordings.
She left out the six-month offer.
She left out the fact that Lillian had once loaned her money.
She left out Graham’s marriage.
Even reduced, the story sounded insane.
Her sister listened.
Then asked, “Did you do it?”
Claire stared at the wall.
“What?”
“I know you didn’t. I’m asking because if I’m going to be mad, I need to know what level.”
“No.”
“Okay. Full mad.”
Claire laughed.
Her sister said, “You’re laughing. That seems inappropriate.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“You hate not knowing.”
“Yes.”
“Eat something.”
“I had soup.”
“When?”
Claire looked toward the microwave.
“Oh.”
Her sister made a disgusted sound.
Claire went to retrieve it.
Ordinary life continued with irritating persistence.
Soup cooled.
Bills remained due.
The laundry in the dryer needed folding.
Her father wanted to know whether black toast counted as fiber.
Meanwhile, somewhere across the city, a tiny recorder sat inside a camel-colored handbag inside a clear kitchen storage container because three adults had not trusted one another enough to touch it.
That evening, Graham sent only one message.
I have been advised not to access the recordings yet. The device and bag are secured. I will update you about your employment tomorrow.
Claire replied:
May you like
Thank you.
Then, after staring at the screen:
