Chapter Six
Three Nights
He was in the upstairs hall outside the bedroom he shared with Celia.
They had slept in the same bed after making love, but the following night she had placed a pillow between them without comment.
Tonight the pillow was gone. Celia was still at the hospital, finishing an emergency reconstruction for a basketball player flown in from Philadelphia.
"I'm listening," Nolan said.
"There are photographers outside the condo. One followed Eli's sitter from school. The building manager wants us gone until this settles."
"Call the police."
"I did. They can move people off private property. They can't stop them from standing across the street."
Nolan walked toward the study. "Your hotel reservation runs through Sunday."
"We checked out after the test. My attorney said staying there made it easier to track us."
"Where are you now?"
"In the car. Eli's asleep in the back seat."
The image arrived whole: a child folded against a seat belt while adults photographed the windows. Nolan's body reacted before judgment, the old race-day surge that demanded movement.
"Come to the house," he said.
Maris did not answer immediately.
"The carriage house has a separate entrance," he continued. "Security can keep the drive clear. You won't need to enter the main house."
"Celia lives there."
"I'll speak to her."
"Nolan, I am not trying to force myself into your marriage."
He looked through the study doorway at the framed wedding photograph on the far wall. Celia's veil had blown across his mouth just before the camera clicked. She was laughing; he looked astonished.
"This is about Eli," he said.
"Everything is now."
He mistook the reply for agreement.
Celia came home twelve minutes later, peeling surgical tape from one finger. Nolan met her in the mudroom before she could remove her coat.
"Maris and Eli need somewhere secure tonight."
She paused with one arm still in her sleeve. "No."
"There are photographers outside their building."
"Put them in another hotel under a different name."
"The carriage house is empty."
"It is on our property."
"It has its own entrance. You won't have to see them."
Celia pulled her arm free and hung the coat carefully. "You have already invited them."
"I told Maris I would speak to you."
"Did you tell her she could come?"
Nolan did not answer fast enough.
"How long?" Celia asked.
"Until the press settles."
"That is not a period of time."
"A few days."
"Three nights. They leave Sunday morning. Security handles the perimeter. Maris does not enter this house without asking me."
He should have recognized the concession for what it was. Instead, relief made him reach for more.
"Eli may want to see the house."
"Why?"
"Because it is mine."
"It is ours."
The correction sat between them.
"Three nights," she repeated. "I am agreeing because a child is in a car at midnight. Do not convert that into consent for a new household."
"I won't."
Nolan believed himself when he said it.
Maris's rental SUV arrived at twelve-oh-three with its headlights off. Security opened the side gate. Nolan went outside alone and carried two suitcases into the carriage house. Eli did not wake when Maris guided him upstairs, his head against her shoulder and one sneaker dragging on the steps.
Nolan returned to the main kitchen for bottled water and clean sheets. Celia stood at the sink in her robe, drinking from a glass.
"They are here," he said.
"I saw the headlights."
"Do you know where the twin sheets are?"
She looked at him for a moment. "Linen closet. Second shelf."
He found them and a folded quilt printed with blue whales, bought years ago for friends who visited with a toddler. When he carried it downstairs, Celia remained in the kitchen.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"No."
"Good night, Nolan."
He wanted to tell her this was temporary. The word had already become dishonest, and he left without using it.
The guest suite had a bedroom, sitting room, kitchenette, and a small pool that had been drained since August. Celia used the lower level for medical records she was transferring to off-site storage. Her handwriting labeled three sealed boxes beside the bookcase.
"You said it was empty," Maris whispered.
"It is. Those are Celia's work files. Don't touch them."
"I wasn't going to."
Nolan set the suitcases near the stairs. One was large enough for a month's clothing. He noticed and then disliked himself for noticing.
Maris came back down after putting Eli to bed. Without makeup, she looked more like the young swimmer he remembered, though the lines beside her mouth belonged to years he knew nothing about.
"Thank you," she said. "I know what this costs."
"It is three nights."
"Is that what Celia agreed to?"
"Yes."
Maris crossed her arms. "And if the photographers are still there Sunday?"
"We'll find another arrangement."
"You mean move your son again so your wife doesn't have to look at him."
"Do not do that."
His voice sharpened enough that she stepped back.
"Celia required the legal test. She found the therapist. She is the reason your preliminary report was treated seriously instead of buried by my staff. Do not make her the obstacle because she is the only person in this situation who has asked everyone to slow down."
Maris's expression closed. "You're right."
The apology came without argument. It unsettled him more than a fight would have.
"I'm tired," she said. "I've spent years explaining why Eli didn't resemble the man who took him to school. Now I have to explain why he resembles someone who might decide three days are enough."
"I am not going anywhere."
"You don't know that. Lawyers can arrange money. They can arrange visits. They cannot make you want the inconvenience once the surprise wears off."
Nolan looked toward the ceiling. A floorboard shifted above them. Eli, turning in an unfamiliar bed.
"I want him here," Nolan said.
Maris's face softened. "For how long?"
It was the question Celia had asked in the mudroom. He had resented her demand for a number because numbers exposed the decision he wanted to treat as instinct.
"As long as he needs," Nolan said.
Maris searched his face. "And me?"
"He is nine. He needs his mother."
"That isn't an answer."
"Stay until we have somewhere secure."
"Even if it takes more than three nights?"
He thought of Celia upstairs in the main house, washing hospital soap from her hands. She had agreed to three nights because he asked her to protect a child. He knew exactly where her boundary stood.
"Yes," he said.
Maris released a breath. "I won't make trouble."
Nolan left the carriage house by the garden door. Celia's bedroom light remained on across the lawn. He could see her shape pass behind the curtain, then disappear.
When he returned to the main house, she had locked the bedroom door.
At seven the next morning, Nolan found Eli barefoot in the main-house kitchen.
The boy stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open, wearing pajama pants patterned with sharks. He jumped when Nolan entered.
"Mom's asleep," Eli whispered. "The little fridge has yogurt that expired."
"You could have knocked."
"The door wasn't locked."
Nolan made a note to speak to security, then stopped. The child had crossed thirty yards of lawn, not breached a facility.
"Do you eat eggs?"
"Only if the yellow part isn't runny."
Nolan had cooked approximately six eggs in his life. He took out a carton anyway.
Eli sat at the island and watched him break the first yolk into the pan. "You don't know how."
"I know the theory."
"That's what Mom says before assembling furniture."
They produced two overcooked eggs and one acceptable piece of toast. Nolan set the plate in front of him as Celia entered in running clothes.
She stopped near the doorway.
Eli slid off the stool. "Sorry. I was hungry."
"You do not need to apologize for eating breakfast," she said. "Next time, knock before you come into the main house."
"Okay."
Her tone held no softness designed for Nolan to witness. She spoke to Eli as she would to any child old enough to understand a door.
Maris hurried in through the garden entrance moments later, hair unbrushed. "There you are. I woke up and nearly called security."
"I left a note," Eli said.
"On a paper towel," she replied, then looked at Celia. "I'm sorry. This won't become a habit."
"See that it doesn't."
Nolan expected Maris to bristle. Instead, she took Eli's plate to the sink and thanked him for breakfast. The four of them occupied the kitchen for less than a minute, yet the room seemed to rearrange around the new combination.
Celia went upstairs to shower. Nolan carried the pan to the sink while Maris searched for Eli's other shoe.
"She speaks to him like a patient," Maris said under her breath.
"She speaks to children directly."
"She made him apologize for coming inside."
"She told him he did not need to apologize for being hungry. I heard the same conversation."
Maris found the shoe beneath the stool. "You are defending her because you feel guilty."
"I am defending the rule because it was clear before you came."
"The rule was three nights. You told me not to worry."
"I should not have said that."
Eli reentered with his backpack. "Are we leaving?"
"Yes," Maris said, brightness returning to her voice. "Your father has a busy morning."
Nolan wanted to object to the small punishment inside the sentence. Eli was already pulling on his shoe, shoulders bent. Nolan crouched to help with the lace, then stopped when the boy slapped his hand away.
"I can do it."
"Okay."
The knot took three attempts. Nolan waited.
At the garden door, Eli looked toward the stairs. "Should I tell Celia bye?"
"She is showering. You can tell her next time."
"Is there a next time?"
Maris answered before Nolan could. "Of course."
Nolan met her eyes. A child's hope had become another promise made in his house without Celia present.
After they crossed the lawn, he found Celia in the dressing room fastening her watch. Her wet hair darkened the back of her running shirt.
"Maris thinks Monday is too soon," he said.
"Maris does not live here."
"Eli has orientation Tuesday. Moving him before that may be disruptive."
"Then Maris can take him from a hotel."
"He woke up and came here because he felt secure."
Celia faced him. "He came here because you showed him where the door was and told his mother not to worry about my deadline."
The accuracy made him angry because it removed the emergency he wanted her to solve.
Celia picked up her water bottle. "Three nights," she said to Nolan.
He nodded while the promise he had made in the carriage house remained unspoken.