Chapter 7: The Terms Offered
Diane set the casserole on the counter and turned to face me.
She looked older than she had three days ago.
Something in her posture had changed — the certainty was still there, but it was sitting differently, like a coat that no longer fit quite right.
"I want to say something," she said.
"Go ahead."
"I have never believed you were good enough for my son."
"I know that."
"I still don't." She pulled out the chair across from me and sat down without being invited.
"But I watched you stand on that doorstep with three-day-old stitches and a newborn baby and a piece of paper, and you didn't scream at me.
You didn't cry.
You just showed me the document." She looked at my daughter.
"That took something."
I didn't respond.
"I am not here to apologize," she said.
"I didn't think you were."
"I'm here because Daniel hasn't spoken to me in four days, and I know that's not going to change unless something does." She looked up at me.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to call the locksmith and tell him the truth about why you hired him."
Her jaw tightened.
"That's—"
"I want you to call Ruth and correct what you told her.
Word for word.
I want you to tell her I did not abandon my family.
I want you to tell her you made a mistake."
May you like
"You're asking me to humiliate myself in front of my neighbor."
"I'm asking you to tell the truth to the person you lied to."
