Chương 7
Claire looked up sharply.
“What?”
“She thinks I’m spending too much money on legal fees, therapy, everything after Rachel died. She thinks I’m neglecting Noah.”
“Are you?”
The question irritated him because he had expected loyalty.
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Claire watched him.
“That’s not an accusation.”
“It sounded like one.”
“I’m asking.”
Daniel stared toward the living room.
Noah was on the floor building something from small magnetic tiles. Sophie sat nearby drawing.
“I don’t know.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“That means maybe.”
Daniel looked at her.
“I didn’t abandon him.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“I coach his baseball team.”
“You missed four games last season.”
“Because Sophie had therapy.”
“I know.”
“I can’t split myself in half.”
“I know.”
“Mom makes it sound like Sophie stole something from him.”
Claire rubbed one hand across the table.
“She’s scared.”
“Of what?”
“Money.”
Daniel frowned.
Claire sighed.
“You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Dad’s medical bills.”
“He had insurance.”
“Not all of it.”
Daniel stared at her.
Margaret’s husband, Thomas Carter, had died three years earlier after eighteen months of cancer treatment.
“She told me everything was covered.”
“It wasn’t.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly. More than a hundred thousand at one point. She negotiated some. Paid some. Borrowed some.”
“From where?”
Claire looked toward the children.
“I think against the house.”
Daniel sat very still.
Margaret had spent the past year insisting Daniel sell the backyard property.
He owned it.
Mostly.
Thomas had helped with the down payment nine years earlier, and a small family trust still held an interest that Daniel had planned to buy out gradually.
Margaret had called his refusal sentimental and irresponsible.
He had assumed she wanted control.
Maybe she wanted money.
“That doesn’t explain Sophie,” he said.
“No.”
“Nothing explains Sophie.”
“No.”
Claire looked exhausted.
“But if Mom believes you’re going to spend another fifty thousand dollars fighting Ben—”
“I’m not.”
“She may think Sophie is the reason you won’t sell, won’t take the Portland offer, won’t move.”
“She is one reason.”
Claire nodded.
“And Noah?”
“He doesn’t want to move either.”
“Have you asked him?”
Daniel stared toward the living room again.
No.
Not directly.
That night he sat on Noah’s bed while the boy sorted baseball cards.
“Would you want to move to Oregon?”
Noah looked up.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“My team is here.”
“Anything else?”
“My friends.”
“Anything else?”
Noah shrugged.
“Sophie hates airplanes.”
“That probably shouldn’t determine where we live.”
“It would determine the flight there.”
Daniel smiled.
Noah put a card into a plastic sleeve.
“Grandma said I’d have my own room there.”
“You have your own room here.”
“A bigger one.”
“Do you want a bigger room?”
“No.”
Daniel watched him.
“Has Grandma talked to you a lot about moving?”
“Sometimes.”
“What else does she say?”
Noah became interested in his cards.
Daniel felt a small alarm.
“Noah.”
“She says you spend all your time fixing Sophie.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“What do you think?”
“I think people aren’t broken like stuff.”
“That’s a good answer.”
“She says you miss things because Sophie has problems.”
Daniel waited.
Noah slipped another card into a sleeve.
“You do.”
There was no accusation in it.
That made it worse.
“I’m sorry.”
Noah shrugged.
“I know why.”
“That doesn’t make it okay every time.”
“I know.”
Daniel rubbed his palms together.
“Are you mad at her?”
“At Grandma?”
“Yes.”
Noah thought about it.
“I’m mad she used me.”
“How?”
“She keeps saying she did everything for me.”
His mouth tightened.
“I didn’t ask her.”
The next morning Daniel called Margaret.
It was the first direct contact since the birthday.
She answered on the second ring.
“I wondered how long your attorney would allow you to avoid speaking to your own mother.”
Daniel stood outside his office beside the loading dock.
“I know about Dad’s debt.”
Silence.
A forklift moved behind him.
“Claire talks too much.”
“How much do you owe?”
“That is none of your business.”
“It becomes my business when you threaten to force a property sale.”
“I cannot force you to sell your home.”
“You threatened to try.”
“I told you I would recover what your father invested.”
“How much?”
Margaret exhaled.
“Daniel.”
“How much?”
“Forty-eight thousand.”
He closed his eyes.
“You could have asked me.”
“With what money would you pay me?”
“We would figure it out.”
“You have been figuring things out since Rachel died.”
There was the name.
Daniel gripped the phone.
“Do not make this about her.”
“It is about everything you refuse to look at. You nearly lost your business the year after she died. You refinanced the house. You spent more than twenty thousand dollars on attorneys over Sophie.”
“Because she needed legal stability.”
“You declined an offer that would have erased your debt.”
“Because I don’t want to move.”
“You don’t want to disrupt Sophie.”
“My children.”
“Your son would adapt.”
“And Sophie wouldn’t?”
Margaret was quiet.
Daniel looked at the concrete beneath his shoes.
“Say it.”
“I am not doing this with you.”
“You tore a piece of paper in front of her and told her she wasn’t family. You don’t get to suddenly become too delicate for the conversation.”
Margaret’s breathing changed.
“I watched you disappear into that child after Rachel died.”
Daniel nearly interrupted.
She continued.
“Noah stopped asking when you were coming to games because half the time the answer depended on whether Sophie had a panic attack. You stopped seeing friends. You nearly lost the company. Every dollar, every hour, every decision became about keeping her world from changing.”
“She lost her mother.”
“So did you.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“So did Noah,” Margaret said.
That landed.
For a moment he heard only the forklift.
Then Margaret’s voice softened.
“I was afraid I was going to lose all three of you to one tragedy.”
Daniel swallowed.
“You were afraid,” he said, “so you told an eight-year-old she wasn’t family.”
May you like
Margaret did not answer.
“You were afraid, so you gave a man you barely know her school schedule.”
