Chapter 6 - Vanessa Comes to My Door
Vanessa arrived the next morning without calling.
I saw her through the front window.
Camel coat.
Black leather gloves.
Perfect hair.
The same woman who had insulted my wife twenty-four hours earlier now stood on my porch carrying a bakery box.
I opened the door but did not invite her inside.
She looked past me.
“Where’s Emily?”
“Why?”
“I brought pastries.”
I stared at the box.
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“Daniel, don’t be childish.”
“You called my wife trailer trash by implication for six years.”
“That is dramatic.”
“Mom hit her.”
“I didn’t hit her.”
“You helped create the room where she thought she could.”
Her expression tightened.
“I came here to fix this.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I know enough.”
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Mom is terrified.”
“Good.”
She blinked.
I had shocked her.
Good.
Then Vanessa stepped closer.
“You have no idea what she sacrificed after Dad died.”
“Apparently Mark and I sacrificed quite a bit too.”
Her face changed.
Just for half a second.
But I saw it.
“You found the papers.”
Not a question.
I crossed my arms.
“How much did you know?”
Vanessa looked toward the driveway.
Then back at me.
“That trust was practically family money.”
“No.”
“It was Daniel-and-Mark money.”
“She needed help.”
“Did you?”
Her jaw tightened.
I continued.
“Forty-eight thousand dollars.”
“That was a loan.”
“To you?”
“To Scott’s practice.”
“Did you repay it?”
She said nothing.
I already had my answer.
Then Emily appeared behind me.
She did not hide her bruised cheek.
Vanessa looked directly at it.
For the first time, something like discomfort crossed her face.
Emily spoke calmly.
“Why were you talking to my daughter about me?”
Vanessa’s confidence returned.
“I never said anything inappropriate.”
“Did you tell Lily her father married me because he felt sorry for me?”
Vanessa looked at me.
That was enough.
Emily stepped closer.
“You don’t get to poison my child and call it an opinion.”
Vanessa scoffed.
“You’ve always been insecure.”
“No.”
Emily’s voice remained steady.
“I’ve been patient.”
Then Lily’s small voice came from the hallway.
“Aunt Vanessa?”
Everyone froze.
Lily stood near the staircase.
She was holding something in her hand.
A folded piece of paper.
“I found this in my Christmas bag.”
Emily walked toward her.
“What is it?”
Lily gave her the note.
Emily opened it.
Her face drained of color.
Then she handed it to me.
The handwriting belonged to my mother.
It said:
May you like
Lily, remember what Grandma told you.
Sometimes protecting Daddy means being brave enough to tell the truth about Mommy.
