Chapter 2 - The Daughter-in-Law Who Gave Away Her Bed
Henry slept badly.
Not because the guest room was uncomfortable.
It was his guest room.
He had personally chosen the mattress.
He slept badly because at two in the morning he heard a child crying.
He opened the door.
Molly sat on the floor outside Rebecca’s room in Christmas pajamas.
“What happened?”
She wiped her face.
“Nothing.”
Henry sat beside her.
“People say nothing when something is usually something.”
She looked at him.
“Vanessa says Mom is going to get kicked out after Christmas.”
“Why?”
“Because Grandpa Henry doesn’t like her.”
Henry’s chest tightened.
“You’ve met Grandpa Henry?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Everybody says he’s scary.”
“That seems unfair.”
“Are you scary?”
“Occasionally.”
Molly leaned closer.
“Mom says Grandpa Henry built the company from one truck.”
“Two.”
“What?”
Henry coughed.
“I heard it was two.”
“Oh.”
She pulled her knees up.
“Vanessa says when Grandpa dies, she’ll own everything.”
“Vanessa says many things.”
“She says Mom married Daniel for money.”
“What do you think?”
Molly looked offended.
“My mom married Daniel because he makes terrible pancakes and she felt
sorry for him.”
Henry laughed.
The door opened.
Rebecca stood there.
“Molly?”
“I had a bad dream.”
Rebecca saw Henry.
“I’m sorry if she woke you.”
“She didn’t.”
Rebecca sat on Molly’s other side.
“What dream?”
“The basement.”
Rebecca’s face changed.
Henry noticed.
“What basement?” he asked.
Molly stared at her mother.
Rebecca said, “Go back to bed, sweetheart.”
After Molly disappeared, Henry remained seated.
“Something happened.”
Rebecca rubbed her forehead.
“Vanessa locked her in the wine cellar last week.”
Henry went still.
“For how long?”
“Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.”
“And Daniel?”
“He was in Dallas.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Rebecca gave him a tired look.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Daniel and Vanessa are finally repairing their relationship. Her mother
spent years teaching her to hate him. I didn’t want to become the second
wife who made him choose between his daughter and me.”
“And Molly pays for that?”
Rebecca flinched.
“I dealt with Vanessa.”
“Did it stop?”
“I thought it had.”
Henry looked toward Molly’s door.
“You’re protecting the wrong peace.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“You talk like somebody who’s had practice.”
“Too much.”
At breakfast, Vanessa entered wearing a cashmere robe.
She ignored Henry.
“Molly, get me coffee.”
Rebecca looked up.
“She’s six.”
“She knows where the coffee is.”
“Get it yourself.”
Margaret entered behind her.
“Rebecca, must every morning become a confrontation?”
“No. Vanessa could make her own coffee.”
Margaret smiled without warmth.
“Your problem is that Daniel has made you comfortable.”
“My problem?”
“You’ve forgotten what you brought into this marriage.”
Rebecca stood.
“Say it.”
“A child. Debt. A dead husband who left you nothing.”
Molly stopped chewing.
Henry’s fingers tightened around his mug.
Rebecca said, “Do not discuss her father in front of her.”
“Why? She’ll learn eventually that he was irresponsible.”
“My husband was a firefighter.”
“He was poor.”
“He died pulling two children from an apartment fire.”
Margaret shrugged.
“Heroism doesn’t pay tuition.”
Henry had heard enough.
“What did your husband do?” he asked Margaret.
She turned.
“Excuse me?”
“Your husband. What did he do?”
“He was an investment banker.”
“Did he ever run into a burning building?”
Margaret’s face reddened.
Vanessa laughed.
“You’re getting awfully comfortable, old man.”
Henry looked at her.
“Comfort has never been my problem.”
Rebecca hid a smile.
That afternoon she drove Henry into town to buy him a winter coat.
“I don’t need one.”
“You need shoes too.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“You can pay me back when you find work.”
Henry watched her choose the least expensive coat that was still warm.
At checkout, her card declined.
Rebecca went pale.
“That’s strange.”
She tried another.
Declined.
Her phone rang.
Daniel.
“Hey,” she answered.
Henry heard his son’s voice faintly.
“Rebecca, did you move money from the household account?”
“No.”
“It’s almost empty.”
“What?”
“There were three transfers yesterday.”
“I didn’t make them.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“Vanessa says you did.”
Rebecca looked across the store.
Henry saw humiliation spreading across her face.
“Daniel, I’m standing in a store trying to buy a coat for someone who
needs one.”
“With what money?”
“My own.”
“Rebecca, we’ll talk when I get home.”
The call ended.
She stood motionless.
Henry asked, “You okay?”
“No.”
“Want to lie?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m fine.”
“Terrible lie.”
She laughed once, then cried.
That night Henry called Frank from the bathroom.
“Find the transfers.”
“You said no interfering.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Your test lasted twenty-eight hours.”
“Frank.”
“I’m looking.”
Twenty minutes later, Frank called back.
“The transfers came from Rebecca’s login.”
“She didn’t make them.”
“I believe you.”
“Where did they go?”
“A shell account controlled by Vanessa.”
Henry closed his eyes.
“How did she get Rebecca’s credentials?”
“Household computer, maybe.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Frank hesitated.
“Margaret has been calling your attorney.”
“About what?”
“Your competency.”
Henry went silent.
Frank continued.
“She’s telling people your recent absence is because you’re mentally
declining.”
Henry looked at his reflection beneath the cheap gray cap.
His sister was not merely bullying Rebecca.
She was preparing to take control.
Then something crashed downstairs.
Henry ran.
He found Molly on the kitchen floor.
A shattered plate beside her.
Vanessa stood over the child.
“I told you not to touch my things!”
Rebecca rushed in.
“What happened?”
“She stole my bracelet.”
“I didn’t!” Molly cried.
Vanessa grabbed the girl by the shoulders and shook her hard.
Rebecca tore her hands away.
“Get away from her!”
Vanessa shoved Rebecca.
Rebecca struck the counter.
Henry stepped forward.
Vanessa raised her hand again.
This time Henry caught her wrist.
“Enough.”
She stared at him.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“You don’t know who I am.”
Henry’s eyes became ice.
May you like
“That,” he said softly, “is the funniest thing anyone has said to me all
week.”
