Chương 7
He glanced at the letters.
“That woman may not have existed.”
“She did marry him.”
“Yes.”
“She did hide me.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So I don’t know enough yet to hate the real one.”
Claire stared at him.
“You always talk like this?”
“No.”
“What do you usually talk like?”
“Shorter.”
“That I believe.”
He returned Emma carefully.
Claire settled the baby against her shoulder.
“Mom wants to meet.”
William nodded.
“Are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
He looked at the letters again.
“I want to.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t ask what you wanted.”
“I know.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because if I pretend I don’t have an opinion, you’ll know I’m pretending.”
That annoyed her because it was true.
She packed the letters back into their sleeve.
“Can I photograph these?”
“They’re yours if you want them.”
Claire stopped.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re yours.”
“They’re about your mother.”
“They were written to you.”
William looked at the envelopes.
“I spent thirty-six years keeping them because I couldn’t let go of something I didn’t understand. I don’t need them for that anymore.”
Claire shook her head.
“You don’t get to turn your grief into a gift because I showed up.”
William went still.
The words sounded harsher after they left her mouth.
Claire nearly apologized.
Then she remembered she was tired of apologizing for accurate things said imperfectly.
William nodded.
“You’re right.”
She took photographs instead.
The next day, a twenty-seven-second video from the ballroom appeared online.
Claire found out because a client texted her:
I’m so sorry. Is this you?
The clip began with Richard pointing toward the doors.
It ended immediately after William said, “You heard me.”
There was no context.
No Margaret.
No explanation.
Just an older man in military dress gripping the wrist of another older man while Claire held a baby between them.
By noon, versions of the video had been reposted enough times that strangers were arguing about it.
Some called William heroic.
Some called him violent.
Some called Claire a gold digger who had discovered a wealthy biological father.
One person confidently identified Emma as Vanessa’s baby.
Claire closed the app.
She had spent years working with fragile objects people valued because of age and provenance, yet nothing had prepared her for watching strangers invent a provenance for her.
William called once.
“I’m aware of the video.”
“So am I.”
“I have been advised not to comment.”
“Good.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Better.”
“Richard’s attorney contacted me.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“What does he want?”
“He says Richard is considering a complaint regarding unwanted physical contact.”
“Of course he is.”
“I’m not concerned about that.”
“You should be.”
“I mean I’m not concerned for myself.”
Claire stood in the laundry room with a onesie in one hand.
“What does that mean?”
“They also want the video removed.”
“Can they do that?”
“Not from the internet.”
“Then what?”
“They want the person who originally posted it to take down the account.”
“Who posted it?”
“One of Vanessa’s friends, apparently.”
Claire leaned against the washing machine.
“Richard is probably having a stroke.”
“That is not the impression his attorney gave me.”
“What impression did he give you?”
“That Richard would like to control what happens next.”
Claire laughed softly.
“Now that sounds like him.”
That afternoon, Richard called directly.
Claire almost did not answer.
Then she did.
“Claire.”
“Richard.”
A pause.
“You’re calling me that now.”
“You noticed.”
“I understand you’re upset.”
She looked at the laundry basket.
“You always say that when you’re about to explain why someone shouldn’t be.”
“I am trying to avoid making this worse.”
“It got worse thirty-six years ago.”
“You know very little about what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
“I will. Privately.”
“This is private.”
“I mean in person.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
Richard exhaled.
“I have made financial provisions for you and Emma.”
Claire stared at the wall.
There it was.
Faster than she expected.
“What?”
“I have always intended to take care of you.”
“You tried to throw me out of your house.”
“I was angry.”
“You called Emma ‘that child.’”
“I regret the wording.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Claire said nothing.
Richard continued.
“There is a trust structure that can be adjusted. Your mother and I discussed it this morning.”
“No, you discussed it this morning. I guarantee Mom mostly sat there.”
“That is unfair.”
“It’s accurate.”
“You don’t know what our marriage is.”
“No. I know what it was like to grow up inside it.”
Richard’s voice hardened.
“This is exactly the kind of emotional rewriting I am trying to prevent.”
Claire smiled without humor.
“You mean remembering?”
“I mean allowing a stranger to enter your life and immediately recast everyone who raised you as villains.”
“He’s not doing that.”
“He put his hands on me in my own home.”
“You were reaching for me.”
“I was trying to guide you toward the door.”
“With an infant in my arms.”
“You were not in danger.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
Richard went silent.
Claire could almost see him rearranging his approach.
“The point is,” he said finally, “there are practical matters to consider. The video. William’s position. Your mother’s reputation. Vanessa’s engagement.”
“Vanessa isn’t engaged.”
Richard paused.
Claire blinked.
“Wait. Is she?”
“That announcement was intended for last night.”
Despite everything, Claire sat down on the closed toilet lid and started laughing.
Richard said nothing.
“Oh my God.”
“This is not amusing.”
“It is a little.”
“Claire.”
“You turned Mom’s family photo dinner into a surprise engagement announcement?”
“Vanessa’s fiancé intended—”
“Who?”
“Peter.”
“Peter with the teeth?”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Claire covered her mouth with one hand.
She was exhausted enough that the laughter kept coming.
Richard waited.
At last she said, “Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I’m not.”
A small silence.
Then Richard said something she did not expect.
“I raised you.”
Claire stopped smiling.
“Yes.”
“I was there.”
May you like
“Yes.”
“I paid for your schools. I sat in emergency rooms. I taught you to drive.”
