Chương 8
Noah said no.
Vanessa asked again two days later.
Noah said no.
A week passed.
She sent a note.
Not a gift.
Rebecca had suggested no gifts.
The note said:
I love you. You do not have to answer me before you are ready. I am sorry I scared you.
Ethan read it once because he had been asked to screen communications for pressure.
He put it in an envelope and gave it to Noah.
The boy left it unopened on his desk.
That evening, he asked if he had to keep it.
“No.”
“Can I throw it away?”
“Yes.”
Noah carried it to the trash.
Then he stood there.
He brought it back to his desk.
Ethan said nothing.
Maya's employment agency called the following Monday.
They had received a complaint.
Vanessa's complaint had been submitted the morning after the Central Park incident, six weeks before the recording.
Ethan stared at the email while Rebecca explained.
It accused Maya of negligent supervision and inappropriate emotional dependence with Noah.
It did not accuse her of physical abuse.
That part had come later.
“So she had been building this for weeks.”
“Yes.”
“Maya didn't know?”
“Apparently not.”
“Can we have it removed?”
“No.”
“It's false.”
“Part of it describes a real incident.”
Ethan stood at his office window.
He had gone in for the first time in nine days.
People pretended not to notice that he looked terrible.
“The part about inappropriate dependence is subjective.”
“Exactly.”
“What happens to Maya?”
“The agency reviews.”
“She could lose referrals.”
“Yes.”
Ethan swore.
Rebecca waited.
“I'll call them.”
“Don't pressure them.”
“I employ half their clients.”
“Then definitely don't pressure them.”
He laughed once.
“This is insane.”
“No. This is what happens when everybody involved has power in different forms.”
Ethan watched taxis move below.
“What does Maya have?”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Her credibility.”
“That doesn't sound like much.”
“It is when other people are trying to buy everything else.”
He called Maya anyway.
She answered after six rings.
“I know about the complaint.”
Silence.
“When?”
“The agency called me.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She laughed softly.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Because you are part of the investigation, Ethan.”
“I'm your employer.”
“Exactly.”
“I can help.”
“That is what you always say.”
His grip tightened around the phone.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means you keep offering help that puts you in charge.”
“I'm trying to protect your career.”
“My career is not yours to protect.”
“Vanessa is attacking you because you work for me.”
“No. Vanessa is attacking me because she thinks I'm threatening her place in her son's life.”
“That's because you work for us.”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
Maya went quiet.
Traffic hissed behind her again.
Then she said, “Because Noah trusts me.”
Ethan sat.
“So you're just going to let the agency decide.”
“I gave them my account. I gave them the incident report.”
“What incident report?”
“I wrote one the night of the park.”
“You wrote it down?”
“Yes.”
“And never gave it to me.”
“No.”
His anger returned.
“Why?”
“Because Vanessa told me she'd fire me if I did.”
“You could have sent it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“You should have.”
“Yes.”
The immediate agreement disarmed him.
Maya continued, “I was scared.”
He said nothing.
“I pay my mother's mortgage,” she said. “My sister is in nursing school. I don't have six months of money sitting around. Vanessa knew that.”
Ethan leaned back.
“I didn't know.”
“No.”
Again, the simple answer carried more than accusation would have.
“I should have known.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Stop trying to do things to people.”
He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask me.”
“I just did.”
“No. Ask what I want, not what you can fix.”
He stared at the ceiling.
“What do you want?”
There was a long pause.
“I want my name cleared.”
“Okay.”
“I want to stop being discussed like I'm another piece of household property.”
His face warmed.
“Okay.”
“I want Noah to be okay even if I never work for you again.”
That one hurt.
He sat up.
“Is that what you've decided?”
“No.”
“Do you want to come back?”
“I don't know.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love him.”
Ethan waited.
“That seems like a reason to come back.”
“No. It might be the reason not to.”
He did not understand immediately.
Then he did.
Noah's attachment.
Vanessa's resentment.
His own dependence.
The strange little family structure they had allowed to grow around a payroll agreement.
Maya said, “I need time.”
“All right.”
“And don't offer me money.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were.”
He looked at the checkbook on his desk.
“I was.”
“I know.”
They both laughed once.
It was uncomfortable.
Human.
Then Maya said, “I have to go.”
“Maya.”
“Yes?”
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
He almost said everything.
Instead he picked something he could name.
“For not knowing what your job had become.”
She was quiet.
“Okay,” she said.
It was not forgiveness.
He was grateful she did not pretend otherwise.
Two weeks after the phone hit the marble, Vanessa met Ethan in person for the first time since leaving the penthouse.
They chose a private room at a lawyer's office because neither trusted the apartment.
The fact depressed him.
Vanessa wore navy.
He noticed this because he had spent fourteen years noticing what she wore. In the beginning he had loved that she always seemed to know exactly what a room required. She could walk into a dinner with governors, artists, hedge-fund people, teachers, or a group of parents sitting on a school gym floor and somehow look like she belonged without appearing to have tried.
Now she looked tired.
Not destroyed.
Not humbled.
Just tired.
Her attorney sat beside her.
Rebecca sat beside Ethan.
There were papers on the table no one touched.
Vanessa looked at Ethan.
“How is he?”
“You get updates.”
“I asked you.”
“He's sleeping better.”
“School?”
“Fine.”
May you like
“Therapy?”
Rebecca shifted slightly.
