Chapter 4
I did not tell Maya what Eleanor had said.
Not yet.
I brought her inside and asked her to stay with Brooke while I spoke with the woman on the porch. Maya refused to leave the room.
“I heard her,” she said. “She said the baby was hers.”
Eleanor came in slowly.
Claire stayed near the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Tell me everything,” Maya said.
Eleanor looked at the old letter.
“I can tell you what I remember. Some of the papers may say more.”
She described the hospital the night Maya was born. She had gone into labor early. Maren had driven her there because her husband was away on a work trip.
Two babies were born within hours.
Eleanor’s daughter was stillborn.
Maya was born healthy.
“Your mother spent a long time with the baby,” Eleanor said. “She was grieving for me, and she was terrified I wouldn’t survive. I was bleeding. They took me into surgery.”
“Why would the hospital put your name on Maya’s wristband?” I asked.
“They didn’t.”
She opened the envelope and laid out several papers on the table. One was a copy of a discharge summary. Another was a photograph of two wristbands, side by side.
“One belongs to my baby,” Eleanor said. “The other belongs to Maren.”
Maya picked up the photograph.
The second wristband had her name.
The first carried only a number.
“That’s not the same band,” Maya said.
“No,” Eleanor replied. “It isn’t.”
Claire spoke from the kitchen.
“You’re confusing her.”
Eleanor turned toward her.
“You’ve been confusing her for years.”
Maya looked at Claire.
“Did you tell Dad about Aunt Eleanor?”
“I told him there was a relative Maren didn’t speak to.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“You don’t understand what happened.”
“Then make me understand.”
Claire looked at me.
“Not here.”
I waited.
She lowered her voice.
“Maren and Eleanor had an ugly fight before you met Maren. Eleanor accused her of taking money from their father’s business. The family fell apart. Maren cut her off.”
“That has nothing to do with Maya,” Eleanor said.
“It has everything to do with this.”
Claire gestured toward the documents.
“Eleanor was unstable after the birth. She blamed Maren. She threatened to sue the hospital. She was going to take Maya.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. I never asked for Maya.”
“Your letters said you wanted to see her.”
“After Maren died. Not before.”
“Why didn’t you come then?”
“Because you told me Maya was better off without me.”
Maya turned to Claire.
“You kept her away?”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From a woman who could barely protect herself.”
Eleanor stood.
“Maren asked me to be part of Maya’s life. She wrote that in her letter.”
Maya looked down at the folded page.
“Did Mom know about the wristbands?”
“Yes,” Eleanor said. “She knew every detail.”
Claire’s voice turned sharp.
“That is not what Maren told me.”
Maya’s face went cold.
“You were there when my mother died?”
Claire said nothing.
I felt a new line forming between all the things Claire had admitted and the things she had not.
She had been in our lives for three years before Maren died. She had helped with meals, hospital visits, and the arrangements afterward. I had thought she was compassionate.
Now I wondered what she had learned while standing beside my wife’s bed.
“Why is there a payment to Hawthorne House?” I asked.
Claire’s composure cracked.
“That has nothing to do with Maren.”
“What is it?”
“An assisted-living facility.”
“For whom?”
She looked away.
The answer came from Eleanor.
“Her mother.”
Claire glared at her.
“She’s been in memory care for six years,” Eleanor said. “Claire told the family the insurance covered it.”
My mouth went dry.
“You’ve been paying your mother’s care from Maya’s account?”
“Not all of it,” Claire said. “I paid from several accounts.”
“Which ones?”
“Money moved where it had to.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be responsible for everything.”
“I know what it’s like to work and pay the bills.”
“And I know what it’s like to keep this family standing while you were at the office.”
I glanced at Brooke.
She had come into the room without us hearing. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, pale and rigid.
“Mom,” she said. “Is Grandma at Hawthorne House because you couldn’t afford it?”
Claire turned.
“Go upstairs.”
“I heard what Dad asked.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know you told me Grandma was fine.”
“She is fine.”
“You said the money was insurance.”
Claire moved toward her.
Brooke stepped back.
The small movement made something inside me tighten.
Claire stopped. She must have seen it too.
“I was going to tell you,” she said.
“When?”
“When you were older.”
“You said the same thing about the car. That I’d understand when I was older.”
The word “car” hung there.
Brooke stared at the front window. The Mustang was visible outside, its red paint bright beneath the afternoon sky.
“Can it be returned?” she asked.
“I paid for it,” Claire said.
“With Maya’s money.”
“It’s a gift. You don’t have to make this a punishment.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I’m not returning it.”
Brooke’s shoulders lowered.
“Then I’ll give it back myself.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“You will do no such thing.”
“I already said I don’t want it.”
“And I said the conversation is over.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
I stepped to the window and looked at the car.
The balloon tied to its side mirror twisted in the wind.
The party had vanished, leaving only the gift.
For a few seconds, it had represented a mother’s love.
Now it looked like a receipt.
I turned back.
“Did you move all the money into your account?”
Claire looked at me.
“No.”
“Where did the other transfers go?”
She didn’t answer.
Eleanor pointed at the papers.
“Some of it went to my mother.”
Claire snapped, “You have no proof.”
“I have the account records.”
“Where did you get them?”
“From the person who called me.”
“Who called you?” I asked.
Eleanor met my eyes.
“Someone at the bank. Someone who knew the transfers were being flagged.”
The doorbell rang again.
This time, two officers stood on the porch.
An officer held a small envelope.
“Mr. Ellis? We received a request to check on the household. We were told there may be a financial dispute and a minor who needed assistance.”
Claire looked at Eleanor.
“You called the police?”
“No,” Eleanor said.
The officers looked past me.
May you like
One of them held up the envelope.
“It came from the bank’s fraud unit.”
