Chapter 5
There were six boxes in the west storage room.
All belonged to Noah.
His winter clothes.
Books.
Toy cars.
Night-light.
The framed photograph of his mother that normally sat beside his bed.
I picked that one up.
My late wife, Elena, was laughing in the photograph with Noah asleep against her chest.
Victoria had wrapped it in tissue paper.
Not carefully.
Efficiently.
“Where were these going?”
Victoria stood in the doorway.
“Storage.”
“Why?”
“He has too much clutter.”
Margaret shook her head.
“That’s not what you told me.”
Victoria glared at her.
I waited.
Margaret continued.
“She said the boxes were going to the lake house.”
My expression changed.
The Marconi lake house was two hours away.
Used during summers.
Mostly empty the rest of the year.
“What was Noah doing at the lake house?”
Victoria answered quickly.
“Nothing.”
Margaret looked at me.
“She asked whether I would stay there with him after the honeymoon.”
Silence.
I stared at Victoria.
“For how long?”
“It was an idea.”
“How long?”
She finally snapped:
“A few weeks.”
Margaret shook her head again.
“She said through the fall.”
Victoria’s face hardened.
I set Elena’s photograph down carefully.
“You planned to marry me and send my son two hours away.”
“For adjustment.”
There was always a softer word.
Adjustment.
Transition.
Structure.
“You thought Sophie needed time to bond with you,” Victoria said.
I stared.
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“So Noah had to leave.”
“He already has you.”
Again.
Love as a limited resource.
I stepped closer.
“You were going to cure Sophie’s loss by giving Noah one.”
May you like
Victoria flinched.
That was the first time I saw the cruelty reach her through her own logic.
