Chapter 8 - The Wrong Kind of Apology
Corinne sent flowers.
Not to Adrian.
To Lila.
A huge arrangement of pink roses arrived at Evelyn's house on Tuesday morning, accompanied by a stuffed white elephant nearly as tall as the child.
The card read:
To our brave little girl. You scared us so much. Love, Corinne.
Evelyn regarded the elephant as though it might be carrying explosives.
"Put it in the garage," she told the deliveryman.
Lila was in the kitchen, helping Adrian make toast.
She had insisted on buttering every piece herself.
Most of the butter was on the plate.
Some was on her sleeve.
Adrian didn't care.
When Evelyn came inside, Lila looked up.
"What's that?"
"Flowers," Evelyn said.
"For who?"
"For us."
Lila considered this.
"From Mommy?"
Evelyn's face softened.
"No, peanut."
"Oh."
Lila returned to her toast.
Adrian caught his mother's eye.
Neither spoke.
Later that morning, Corinne called.
He answered from the garden.
"Why did you send flowers?"
"Because I care about her, Adrian."
"She doesn't want anything from you."
"Did you ask her?"
"She said she doesn't want to see you."
Corinne sighed.
"Do you hear yourself? You're letting a three-year-old decide whether her stepmother is allowed in the family."
"I'm listening to a frightened child."
"You're encouraging her to be frightened."
Adrian stared at the lawn.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Turn this into something I've done."
"I'm trying to save our marriage."
"Then tell me the truth."
A pause.
"I have."
"Why did you remove the temporary barrier?"
Silence.
"Corinne?"
"I didn't remove it. The crew did."
"At your request."
"Because you approved it."
"Through my tablet."
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"That you used it."
"I borrowed your tablet to book an appointment. Maybe the maintenance page was open. Maybe I accidentally touched something."
Adrian closed his eyes.
"An accidental approval followed by an accidental camera outage?"
"Now you're being ridiculous."
"Ethan has your message."
Another pause.
"What message?"
"The one telling him to remove the barrier."
Corinne's voice sharpened.
"That little idiot is trying to save his job by blaming me."
"He sent it to the police."
"Of course he did."
Adrian waited.
Finally she said, very softly, "You have no idea what you're doing to us."
"What's happening to us is a consequence of what happened to Lila."
"Your daughter isn't the only person who can get hurt."
Adrian went still.
"Was that a threat?"
Corinne exhaled.
"God, Adrian. You really don't hear how cruel you've become."
She ended the call.
Across Newport, Corinne sat in her attorney's conference room.
David Harlan was a silver-haired divorce and civil litigation attorney who had represented half the state's wealthy families at one time or another.
He disliked surprises.
Corinne had brought him several.
"Did you tell your husband you accidentally approved the maintenance order?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Was that true?"
She crossed her legs.
"Yes."
"Corinne."
She stared at him.
Harlan removed his glasses.
"I can help you with an investigation. I cannot make facts disappear. If I discover you've lied to me, the advice I give you may be useless."
She looked toward the harbor outside the window.
"I hated that railing."
"That isn't an answer."
"I wanted it moved."
"Did you deliberately use Adrian's account to approve the work?"
She said nothing.
Harlan leaned back.
"All right. We'll need to address that separately. Now tell me exactly how Lila fell."
Corinne began the story she had rehearsed.
The toy.
The child approaching.
The backward step.
The terrible accident.
Harlan asked whether she had tried to grab Lila.
"Of course."
"With which hand?"
Corinne hesitated.
"My right."
"Where were you sitting?"
"On the starboard lounger."
"Was the child facing you?"
"Yes."
"How far away?"
"Close."
"Did you stand up before she fell?"
"I don't remember."
Harlan watched her carefully.
"That's a lot of uncertainty for something you claim you saw from three feet away."
Corinne's expression hardened.
"Have you ever watched a little girl nearly die?"
"No."
"Then maybe don't grade my memory."
Harlan put his glasses back on.
"Fair enough. But somebody else eventually will."
That afternoon, a child interview specialist named Lauren Bennett met Lila at a family services center.
Adrian waited in a separate room.
Lauren explained beforehand that she would not force Lila to discuss the event, ask leading questions, or promise an outcome.
The interview was recorded under the center's protocols.
At first, Lila talked about stickers.
Then about Grandma's cat.
Then about the purple bandage she'd demanded from the hospital.
Eventually, when Lauren asked about the boat, Lila grew quiet.
"Was my boat scared?" she asked.
"I don't know," Lauren said gently. "Tell me about your boat."
"Mommy made him."
"What happened to him?"
"He fell."
"Tell me what happened next."
Lila rubbed her bandaged fingers.
"I fell too."
Lauren waited.
Lila looked down.
"Cor'inne mad."
"What happened when Corinne was mad?"
The child pressed both small palms against the air in front of her.
"Push."
Lauren didn't put words in her mouth.
"What happened after that?"
Lila pulled her hands back.
"Big water."
Then she began crying.
The interview ended shortly afterward.
When Adrian watched the recording with the investigator, he didn't hear a perfect account.
He heard a little girl trying to describe something enormous with a handful of small words.
Donnelly sat beside him.
"That matters," she said. "But we still need independent evidence."
Adrian wiped his eyes.
May you like
"What kind?"
"Records. Witnesses. Anything that can tell us what happened without asking Lila to carry the whole case."
