Chapter 4 - The Little Pink Dress
I turned off the engine.
“You don’t have to compete for your daddy.”
Margot studied the seat belt across her lap.
“Claire said being married means first.”
“Grown-ups can love more than one person.”
“Then why did I have to move?”
There it was.
A question so small a child could ask it, and so exact no adult could hide inside it.
“You shouldn’t have had to,” I said.
At my house, she asked to change before she ate.
Usually, getting Margot out of a favorite dress required negotiation and at least one warning about spaghetti sauce.
That night, she handed me the pink dress without looking at it.
“Put it somewhere else.”
I hung it in the spare-room closet.
Then we ate toast in our pajamas because neither of us wanted the chicken in the refrigerator.
Emmett called at nine.
“Can I talk to her?”
I offered the phone.
Margot shook her head.
“She’s not ready.”
He was quiet.
“Tell her I love her.”
“I will. But tomorrow, she needs you to tell her yourself.”
After I tucked her in, she asked for the story about Phoebe and the grocery-store cake.
My daughter had once bought a birthday cake for no reason except that it was Tuesday and the frosting looked good.
Margot loved that story.
Halfway through, she interrupted.
“Did Mommy like pictures?”
“She was usually the one taking them.”
“I can’t find the one with the yellow blanket anymore.”
I knew the photograph.
Phoebe sat on the couch with newborn Margot tucked under her chin.
Emmett had kept it on the small table outside his daughter’s bedroom.
“Maybe Daddy moved it.”
“Claire put it away.”
I stayed very still.
“When?”
“When we made the house pretty.”
I didn’t ask another question.
I kissed her forehead and left the door open.
Downstairs, I called Emmett.
“Where’s the picture of Phoebe with the yellow blanket?”
He sighed.
“We packed some things during the redecorating.”
“Margot noticed.”
“I’ll put it back.”
“Do you know where it is?”
May you like
Silence.
Then he said, “I thought Claire had asked her.”
