Chapter 3 - What Emma Heard
“Hannah. Open this door.”
My mother.
Emma flinched.
I stood and turned the lock’s small metal lever until I was certain it had caught.
“Give us a minute.”
“Your sister is having a panic attack.”
“Then help her.”
Silence.
I had never said anything like that to my mother.
Not without apologizing afterward.
Daniel pulled out a chair for Emma.
She sat on the edge, silver shoes together, hands folded so tightly her knuckles looked pale.
“You’re not in trouble,” I told her.
Her chin trembled.
“I recorded my dance so I could remember the steps. The tablet was behind the paper flowers.”
Rachel had offered to let Emma perform a short dance during dinner.
Then, that morning, she had texted that it would make the evening look cheap.
I hadn’t told Emma the exact words.
Apparently, she’d understood anyway.
“I thought I stopped it,” Emma said.
“But I didn’t.”
“How much did you watch?” Daniel asked.
“Enough.”
That one word sounded too old.
Emma looked at me.
“She said you always sign things without reading because you trust Grandma.”
A cold memory opened in my chest.
Last winter.
Emma’s broken wrist.
My mother arriving at urgent care with coffee and a clipboard.
Insurance information.
Emergency contacts.
A promise to help while I soothed my crying child.
I had handed her my wallet.
My identification.
Everything she asked for.
Daniel rubbed both hands over his face.
“Our renovation reserve is short a hundred and eighty-six thousand dollars.”
The room tilted.
“One hundred and eighty-six thousand?”
“Three vendor payments over four months.”
I stared at him.
“I’ve been stretching ground beef with lentils.”
“I believe you.”
“Don’t say that because you feel sorry for me.”
“I’m saying it because Rachel told me the vendor was a contractor she knew through you. She said you’d introduced them.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
Outside, Rachel’s voice rose.
“She’s lying to you!”
Emma began crying without making a sound.
I knelt and took her hands.
“Why didn’t you show me?”
“She said you could go to jail.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“And Grandma said you’d fall apart.”
My throat closed.
“I thought if you saw it, you’d be too scared to come. But Daniel would already be married.”
She had carried that fear through breakfast.
Through getting dressed.
Through her aunt calling her useless.
I pressed my forehead to hers.
“You never had to fix this.”
A knock sounded.
This time, it was the venue manager.
“The police are here.”
Daniel looked toward the door.
May you like
“I didn’t call them.”
Neither had I.
