Chapter 7 - Arthur’s Apology Didn’t Ask Me To Make Him Feel Better
Arthur made eggs.
Badly.
I did not know Arthur Whitmore knew where pans were kept.
Apparently neither did he.
At 8:20, he burned the first batch.
“Your mother would've fired me.”
“She tried.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“She threatened to quit twice because you reorganized her pantry.”
“I improved it.”
“You alphabetized spices.”
“That is improvement.”
“Cumin does not care.”
He almost smiled.
Then we sat.
No Daniel.
No Vanessa.
Just Arthur and me in the breakfast room where Lydia used to steal grapefruit off my plate.
Arthur did not begin with sorry.
Good.
He began with a question.
“What did Lydia love about you?”
That almost broke me.
Not because it was beautiful.
Because in eleven years he had never asked.
I thought.
“She said I was unimpressed by things that impressed everyone else.”
“Such as?”
“This house.”
Arthur looked offended.
Good.
“She hated that?”
“No. She loved it.”
I smiled.
“She said I walked into a room full of Whitmores and still noticed when the bartender needed ice.”
Arthur looked toward the kitchen.
“Your mother raised you.”
“Yes.”
“She was formidable.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“What did you love about Lydia?”
I looked toward the windows.
“She was funny when she wasn’t trying to be.”
Arthur laughed quietly.
“Terrible when she tried.”
“Awful.”
“She used to practice jokes.”
“I know.”
That surprised him.
“She never told me.”
“She had a notebook.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Of course she did.”
For ten minutes, Lydia was alive enough to have bad jokes.
Then Arthur put down his fork.
“I blamed you because it gave me somewhere to put the anger.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“Daniel told me enough true things to make the false shape convincing.”
You and Lydia fought.
True.
You wanted her to tell me.
True.
She was upset.
True.
You left before she did.
True.
Everything arranged into:
Evelyn pushed Lydia into an emotional confrontation and abandoned her.
“That story let me believe my daughter’s last fight belonged to a relationship I had never known existed.”
His voice tightened.
“It meant I hadn’t failed to see her.”
I waited.
He corrected himself.
“Which was exactly what I had done.”
Better.
“And the fact that my mother worked here?”
Arthur looked ashamed.
“I used it.”
“How?”
“I told myself you wanted access to a life that wasn't yours.”
I did not rescue him.
He continued.
“It was easy because your mother worked for me.”
“Yes.”
“I had watched you grow up in this house.”
“Yes.”
“And still, when I needed to decide who had influence and who had vulnerability, I gave my daughter all the vulnerability and you all the influence.”
That was precise.
“Why?”
“Because Lydia was mine.”
There.
Possession disguised as protection.
“If she made choices I didn’t understand, I wanted someone else to have caused them.”
I nodded.
“What are you sorry for?”
Arthur looked at me.
“For banning you before asking what happened.”
More.
“For accepting Daniel’s account because it preserved my opinion of myself.”
More.
“For knowing you since childhood and still treating your place in this house as conditional when I was angry.”
Good.
“And?”
He looked toward the staircase.
“For telling Lydia ‘not tonight.’”
“That apology isn't mine.”
“I know.”
He did.
That mattered.
I sat back.
“I don't forgive you yet.”
Arthur nodded.
“Okay.”
No collapse.
No demand.
No “I understand” performed for credit.
Just okay.
Then:
“What do you want done with the studio?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you have a key.”
I laughed.
“That is exactly how this family got into trouble.”
His face changed.
Good.
I continued.
“It's your house.”
“Yes.”
“Lydia’s things belong to her estate.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel is her brother.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And you loved her.”
“So did you.”
“Yes.”
“Then nobody gets to turn me into the person who decides alone.”
Arthur nodded slowly.
“Good.”
It was the right answer.
We agreed on almost nothing except not deciding that morning.
Later, Daniel joined us.
He looked terrible.
Vanessa had not come home.
“She texted.”
I waited.
“She’s staying at a hotel.”
“How are you?”
He looked irritated by the question.
“Bad.”
Good.
Human.
“Are you going after her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She asked me not to.”
That was new.
“Do you want to?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“I’m trying to discover whether wanting something creates jurisdiction.”
I almost laughed.
“Painful?”
“Extremely.”
He sat.
Then looked at Arthur.
“I need to correct something.”
Arthur waited.
Daniel told him about the lie involving my key.
All of it.
The ledger.
The returned-key story.
The couples-counselor card.
Arthur’s face changed several times.
Daniel did not stop when it got uncomfortable.
When he finished, Arthur asked:
“Why tell me now?”
Daniel thought.
“Because Evelyn already knows.”
I stared.
He caught himself.
“No.”
Good.
He tried again.
“Because if I only tell you things after somebody else can prove them, I’m still doing it.”
Better.
Arthur nodded.
That afternoon, Vanessa came back for her clothes.
She asked to speak with me.
Alone.
We stood in the foyer.
Same marble.
The champagne stain had been cleaned.
She looked at my cheek.
“I am sorry I hit you.”
I waited.
“For?”
She almost smiled miserably.
“Everyone in this family does that now.”
“Good.”
She took a breath.
“For seeing you as a threat to my marriage and deciding that gave me the right to humiliate you publicly.”
More.
“For shoving you after you had already told me no.”
Good.
“And eleven years ago?”
She looked down.
“For lying to you about what Lydia said.”
My chest tightened.
Vanessa continued.
“I told myself I was preventing a scene.”
“Yes.”
“I was also angry that Lydia had the courage to walk away from a table I had spent my life trying to reach.”
There.
I nodded.
“I hear you.”
She waited.
No forgiveness came.
To her credit, she did not ask.
Then she picked up her suitcase.
At the front door, she stopped.
“Daniel never wanted you.”
“I know.”
She looked almost embarrassed.
“I think I always knew too.”
“Then why me?”
Vanessa stared toward the staircase.
“Because Lydia chose you.”
I frowned.
“And?”
“She was the only Whitmore who never made me audition.”
That surprised me.
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“And I still chose Daniel’s side.”
She opened the door.
“I think part of me has been angry at you because you got the version of Lydia I threw away.”
Then she left.
That sentence stayed in the foyer after she was gone.
May you like
Not because it made Vanessa good.
Because it finally made her cruelty belong to her, instead of using me as its explanation.
