Chương 7
“I lied to the police.”
Ava stopped chewing.
“What?”
“Not about the slap.”
“Then what?”
“They asked whether Vanessa had ever shown physical aggression before.”
Ava waited.
“I said no.”
Eleanor’s hands trembled slightly.
“Has she?”
“Not like this.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“When she was twenty-seven, during the divorce, she threw a glass at Robert.”
“Did it hit him?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“She shoved Daniel once.”
Ava stared.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He was embarrassed.”
“By her?”
“By himself. He shoved her back.”
Ava sat very still.
This was not the clean story she wanted.
Vanessa as aggressor.
Daniel as victim.
Eleanor as witness.
Real families ruined clean stories.
“I need to correct my statement,” Eleanor said.
“Yes.”
“I know what that may do to her.”
“Yes.”
“I still have to.”
Ava looked at her mother-in-law.
For the first time since the fall, Eleanor seemed less like a horrified witness and more like someone making a choice.
It cost her.
That mattered.
She corrected her statement that afternoon.
Vanessa learned about it two days later.
Martin Greeley sent Leah a letter accusing Eleanor of being pressured by Ava.
Eleanor read it at the breakfast table.
Then she called Martin herself.
Leah tried to stop her.
Eleanor ignored her.
“This is Eleanor Morgan,” she said when he answered. “I understand your client believes I have been manipulated.”
There was a pause.
“No, Martin, you may speak. I would enjoy hearing how you intend to explain my own memory to me.”
Ava covered her mouth.
Leah closed her eyes.
Eleanor listened for nearly a minute.
Then she said, “That was tiresome,” and hung up.
Leah stared at her.
“You cannot do that again.”
“I certainly can.”
“No.”
“I just did.”
“You are a potential witness.”
“I was also bored.”
Nathan, standing near the coffee machine, turned away so nobody would see him smile.
The baby was born five weeks later.
Not because of the fall.
Not because of Vanessa.
Not because stories arranged themselves around neat consequences.
Ava went into labor on a Wednesday morning while arguing with the pharmacy about a prescription Eleanor did not actually need.
Her water broke in the kitchen.
She stared down at the floor.
Eleanor stared too.
Then Eleanor said, “Oh.”
Ava said, “That seems insufficient.”
Nathan was called.
He arrived eleven minutes later and found Eleanor trying to load six bags into his SUV.
“We’re having a baby,” she told him.
“I gathered.”
“She needs these.”
Nathan looked at the luggage.
“For a hospital?”
“One is mine.”
“You’re not being admitted.”
“You don’t know that.”
Ava had to lean against the door because she was laughing through a contraction.
For ten hours the lawsuit, the house, the police, Daniel’s will, and Vanessa’s name became irrelevant.
Pain simplified the world.
There was breath.
Pressure.
Instructions.
A nurse named Carla who called everyone honey but did not tolerate nonsense.
Eleanor standing near Ava’s shoulder, terrified and trying not to show it.
Nathan waiting elsewhere because he had enough sense to know where he did not belong.
And then a baby girl with dark hair plastered against her tiny head and an offended cry that filled the room.
Ava held her.
The first thing she said was, “Hi.”
The second was, “You took your time.”
Eleanor cried openly.
Ava pretended not to notice.
They named the baby Grace Daniel Morgan.
Daniel had objected to using his name for a girl.
That had been half the appeal.
Three hours after the birth, Ava woke and found Eleanor sitting beside the bassinet.
The older woman was not touching the baby.
She was simply watching her breathe.
“I thought you were sleeping,” Ava said.
“I lied.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“I used to be excellent.”
Ava shifted carefully.
“Do you want to hold her?”
Eleanor looked toward the baby.
“May I?”
“You don’t have to ask every time.”
“I think perhaps I do.”
Ava studied her.
Eleanor’s eyes remained on Grace.
“She has nothing to do with any of this,” Eleanor said.
“No.”
“She should not grow up carrying it.”
“No.”
Eleanor looked at Ava.
“What are you going to do about Vanessa?”
Ava leaned back against the pillow.
“I don’t know.”
It was the truth.
Vanessa sent flowers the next morning.
They were white roses.
No note.
Hospital staff left them at the desk because of the restrictions Ava had put in place.
Eleanor saw them.
“She hates white roses.”
“So do I.”
“I know.”
“Then who were they for?”
Eleanor looked at the arrangement.
“Maybe Daniel.”
Ava almost laughed.
She told the nurse to give them to someone who wanted them.
Two weeks later, after Ava and Grace were home, Martin requested mediation in the civil dispute.
Leah recommended considering it.
“Not because Vanessa has a strong claim,” she said. “Because litigation eats years of people’s lives.”
Ava sat at the kitchen table feeding Grace from a bottle.
“Is that your legal opinion?”
“It is my forty-two-year-old opinion.”
“What does your legal opinion say?”
“That we have strong documents, good evidence of Daniel’s capacity, and a defensible transfer. It also says nothing is free.”
Ava looked down at Grace.
The baby had fallen asleep mid-bottle.
Milk gathered at one corner of her mouth.
Ava wiped it with her thumb.
“What would mediation accomplish?”
“Maybe nothing.”
“Excellent pitch.”
“It could clarify what Vanessa actually wants.”
“The house.”
“Does she?”
Ava looked up.
Leah continued.
“She cannot reasonably expect to end up with the property simply because she believed she would. Her attorney knows that.”
“So what does she want?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out.”
Mediation took place in a neutral office downtown.
Ava left Grace with Eleanor.
Nathan drove her but did not attend.
Vanessa arrived with Martin.
Ava had not seen her since the staircase.
For several seconds neither woman spoke.
Vanessa looked thinner.
May you like
Her hair was shorter by an inch or two.
She wore a navy pantsuit instead of the severe dresses she preferred.
