CHAPTER THREE #2
“For the shirt,” Vanessa continued. “I would never deliberately enter your bedroom.”
“All right.”
Vanessa seemed disappointed by the lack of argument. “The tablets make me foggy.”
“You may want to stop taking them while you are the only parent available to Sophie at night.”
The softness left Vanessa’s eyes.
Only for a moment.
“You’re right,” she said. “I should have been more careful.”
Sophie colored the roofline with short, precise strokes.
“I spoke to Damian,” Vanessa added. “I told him the shirt should be thrown out.”
“Why?”
“Because I wore it.”
“It is washable.”
A blush touched her cheeks. “I thought you would find it upsetting.”
“I find the trespass upsetting.”
Vanessa sat across from her. “You have no reason to feel threatened by me.”
“I didn’t say I felt threatened.”
“You don’t need to.”
Sophie stopped drawing.
Vanessa smiled at her daughter. “Finish your picture, darling.”
The marker resumed moving.
Alyssa closed the supply box. “What do you want?”
“To clear the air.”
“There is no confusion. Stay out of our bedroom.”
“You think I came here for Damian.”
“I think you came here because Damian would open the gate.”
“That was my only reason.”
“Good.”
“He has always needed people who depend on him.”
Alyssa’s attention sharpened.
Vanessa rested both hands on the table, the bruised wrist exposed between them. “It used to exhaust me. Every crisis became his responsibility. Every weak person became his project.”
“Is that how you describe yourself?”
“I was young.”
“You were twenty-six.”
“So was he.”
“Damian was twenty-nine when you left.”
Vanessa’s smile thinned. “You researched me.”
“I can subtract.”
Sophie looked up.
Alyssa lowered her voice.
Vanessa turned the milk glass until its handle faced the child. “You’re very capable. Damian admires that.”
“I’m delighted to have your assessment.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“Of course.”
“The trouble with capable women is that men stop feeling necessary.”
“Damian’s company employs twelve thousand people. His usefulness is not in danger.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I rarely do.”
Vanessa leaned closer. “He needs somebody to save. You have become too competent to hold that part of him.”
The sentence carried no threat. She offered it as advice from a woman with earlier access to Damian’s machinery.
Alyssa looked at Sophie, who had begun pressing the marker hard enough to roughen the paper.
“This conversation is over.”
Vanessa rose. “I’m trying to help.”
“No. You are explaining my husband as if I arrived after you and failed to read the instructions.”
A floorboard creaked in the hall.
Vanessa reached for the coffee tray.
Her fingers brushed the stainless-steel pot.
Alyssa saw the decision in the pause.
Vanessa wrapped her hand around the hot metal.
She gasped and knocked the pot sideways. Coffee spread across the tray and dripped onto the rug. Sophie cried out.
Damian entered as Vanessa staggered back, clutching her palm.
“What happened?”
“Alyssa startled me,” Vanessa said.
Alyssa stared at her.
Damian crossed the room and took Vanessa’s wrist. A red patch had appeared across the heel of her hand.
“Carmen,” he called.
“I’m fine.” Vanessa tried to pull away. “It was an accident.”
Damian guided her toward the door. “Put it under cold water.”
Sophie slid off her chair. “Mom?”
“She’s all right,” Alyssa said.
The child ignored her and followed Damian.
Vanessa looked back from the doorway.
Her face showed pain. Beneath it sat a calm certainty that Alyssa had understood the act and could do nothing useful with the knowledge.
Carmen met them in the hall and took Vanessa to the kitchen.
Damian returned several minutes later.
“Where is Sophie?” Alyssa asked.
“With her mother.”
“How bad is the burn?”
“Minor.”
“Good.”
He surveyed the spilled coffee and soaked corner of the rug. “What were you arguing about?”
“Ask Vanessa.”
“I’m asking you.”
“She told me you need a woman to rescue and that I have become too competent to satisfy you.”
Damian blinked. “She said that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You should ask her.”
“I will. Why were you discussing our marriage in front of Sophie?”
“I did not begin the conversation.”
“You could have stopped it.”
“I did.”
“Before or after Vanessa burned her hand?”
Alyssa stood. “She grabbed the pot.”
“You said you startled her.”
“I said no such thing.”
“That is what Vanessa told me.”
“You arrived as the coffee fell. Did you see me touch her?”
“No.”
“Did you hear me raise my voice?”
“No.”
“Did you see me move?”
“I saw the aftermath.”
“Yet you came back to question my behavior.”
Damian exhaled through his nose. “I am trying to understand what happened.”
“Vanessa picked up a hot coffee pot.”
“People don’t deliberately burn themselves.”
“People don’t usually steal shirts from private closets either.”
“She apologized for that.”
“Apologies seem to purchase a great deal from you.”
He walked to the window. Outside, Sophie sat beside Vanessa near the pool, holding an ice pack against her mother’s palm. Carmen stood nearby.
“Vanessa says you accused her of coming here to steal me.”
“I did not.”
“She said you implied it.”
“I told her to stay out of our bedroom.”
“That conversation continued.”
“She continued it.”
Damian turned. “You’re letting her provoke you.”
“So you believe she is provoking me.”
“I believe the two of you have decided to interpret every remark in the worst possible manner.”
“Only one of us entered the other woman’s marriage.”
“She entered our property because she feared for her daughter.”
“Those facts can coexist.”
Alyssa moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To my office.”
“We aren’t finished.”
“I am.”
“Alyssa.”
She stopped.
Damian’s frustration had begun shading into anger. He was accustomed to resolving disputes through persistence. People stayed in rooms until he obtained an answer he could use.
“Why did you confront Vanessa near Sophie?” he asked.
“The confrontation existed only after Vanessa created it.”
“You still chose to participate.”
“She told me I no longer fulfill a need in my husband. Should I have thanked her for the marital consultation?”
“You could have walked away.”
“I did. She picked up the pot when she heard you outside.”
“That is an extraordinary accusation.”
“So is claiming I caused a burn by speaking.”
“I didn’t accuse you of causing it.”
“You came back to determine how much responsibility I should accept.”
Damian looked toward the table. Sophie’s drawing lay near the tray, one corner stained brown by coffee.
“I’m trying to keep this house calm until we move them.”
“When?”
“The Key Biscayne property may be available next week.”
“Did you finally ask Julian?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“His mother’s returning early.”
Alyssa almost laughed.
Another obstacle. Another delay. Damian presented each one as proof that no alternative existed.
He approached her. “I know this is difficult.”
“Do you?”
“Vanessa being here has placed pressure on us.”
“Vanessa is applying the pressure. You are asking me to absorb it quietly.”
“I am asking you not to engage.”
“She wears your clothes, discusses your old life at my table and tells me I have failed to remain needy enough for you. Your solution is for me to leave the room.”
“For now.”
“For her comfort.”
“For Sophie’s stability.”
Alyssa opened the door.
Behind her, Damian said, “Vanessa’s account is as plausible as yours.”
The words stopped her in the doorway.
He had not called Alyssa a liar. Damian would have considered that a meaningful distinction.
Vanessa had arrived four days earlier with a bruise and a court order. Alyssa had shared his home, his business and his bed for eleven years.
Damian had placed both accounts on the same scale.
“Thank you,” Alyssa said. “That clarifies matters.”
She left him alone with Sophie’s ruined drawing.