“Did you see the little boy?”
“She was always so…”
I stayed. When the last car pulled away, the caterers started cleaning up around the remains of the party. My mother sat on the couch in the living room, staring at nothing. My father had disappeared into his study and hadn’t come out. I sat down across from her.
“You should have told me the truth.”
“Years ago. About any of it.”
“Would you have helped me?”
“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t have let you use me as a shield.”
She looked at me. Her face was ruined, makeup streaked, eyes swollen.
“You think you’re different from us. Better. But you’re not. You’re just like your father. You do whatever you have to do to survive, and you don’t care who gets hurt.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? Then why are you still here? Why didn’t you just walk away?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Because you wanted to see this. You wanted to watch us tear each other apart.”
I didn’t answer. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was more like them than I wanted to admit. But I was also the one still standing.
“What happens now?”
“Now?”
She stood slowly, like it hurt.
“Now we divide everything that’s left. Your father will fight for custody of his reputation. I’ll fight for whatever Leonard’s lawyers couldn’t destroy. And you…”
She looked at me with something close to hatred.
“You’ll go back to your little apartment and your boring job and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
She paused. I pulled out the second folder from my bag.
“Dad’s attorney called me yesterday. The university trustees want to meet with me.”
“Why?”
“Because someone needs to manage the family trust while everything gets sorted out. Someone who isn’t compromised.”
I met her eyes.
“Grandfather set up the trust thirty years ago. It controls the house, the investments, the Petton endowment contributions. Dad was the trustee, but the terms allow for replacement if the current trustee is found to have engaged in conduct that embarrasses the family or the university.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“The trustees are. An affair that produced a secret child kept hidden for five years—they consider that embarrassing.”
I paused.
“So does embezzlement, which is what they’ll call what you did once Leonard’s investigation brings everything into the light.”
“Caroline—”
“I’m not doing this to punish you. Either of you.”
I stood.
“But somebody has to clean up the mess, and it’s not going to be the two people who made it.”
I left her standing in the living room and walked out to the backyard. The tents were coming down, white fabric collapsing like deflating lungs. The caterers had cleared most of the tables, but there were still glasses abandoned on the edges of the lawn, champagne going flat in the evening light. My father was standing by the rose garden my mother had planted fifteen years ago. Amanda was with him, the boy running circles around the stone birdbath. They didn’t notice me at first. I watched my father lean down and say something to the boy, who laughed and reached for his hand. Then Amanda looked up and saw me.
“You’re the daughter.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about all of this. Warren said you didn’t—that you weren’t the one who invited me.”
“I wasn’t.”
She nodded.
“I shouldn’t have come. I knew it was a bad idea. But Tommy…”
She watched the boy, who had climbed onto the birdbath rim and was trying to balance.
“He’s been asking about his father. Where he lives, what he does. I thought if he could see…”
“It’s not your fault.”
My father straightened. He looked at me, and for the first time in years, I couldn’t read his expression.
“Caroline, I didn’t…”
He stopped, then started again.
“I owe you an apology.”
“You owe me a lot of things.”
