Chapter 2 - WHAT THEY THREW AWAY
Nina slept in my bed that night.
She had not done that in months.
At eleven, she finally trusted her own room again after Daniel’s death.
Now she lay beside me curled around a pillow.
Her bare feet were under my leg.
At 2:13 a.m., she whispered:
“Mom?”
“I’m awake.”
“You were sleeping.”
“I can be awake very quickly.”
Silence.
Then:
“Did I make you break Grandma’s table?”
My eyes opened.
“No.”
“But if I wore the dress—”
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“Nina, what I did with the table was my decision.”
“Because you were mad.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.”
“Because of what they did. But my reaction belongs to me.”
She thought.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Maybe.”
“Grandpa will call police.”
“Maybe.”
“Will they take you away?”
“No.”
I hoped.
Property damage in a family home.
No injury.
Still wrong.
I did not lie to her.
“If there are consequences, I handle them.”
She was quiet.
Then:
“Why did Grandma throw my clothes away?”
I had been asking myself the same question.
Sylvia had always criticized Nina’s clothing.
Too casual.
Too cheap.
Too colorful.
Not feminine enough.
Too childish.
Then, paradoxically:
Too grown-up.
But throwing away an entire bag?
That was different.
“What exactly happened?”
Nina squeezed the sock.
I had washed it.
One pink sock.
Mate gone.
“I was upstairs with Vivian.”
“What time?”
“Before you came.”
“Okay.”
“Grandma brought in this dress.”
“What kind?”
“Blue.”
“Vivian’s?”
Nina nodded.
“She said I had to wear it for dinner.”
“And you said no.”
“I said my shirt was Daddy’s favorite.”
My throat tightened.
Sylvia knew that.
Daniel bought the striped shirt one size too large during his last summer alive.
Nina had finally grown into it.
“What did Grandma say?”
“That Daddy wouldn’t like me dressing poor.”
I closed my eyes.
“What else?”
“She opened my bag.”
“Then?”
“She took everything.”
“Did you try to stop her?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Grandpa came in.”
My body went cold.
“What did he do?”
“He said not to touch Grandma.”
“Did he touch you?”
“He held my arm.”
“Hard?”
Nina hesitated.
“A little.”
“Did it hurt?”
“No.”
Important distinction.
“Then Grandma put stuff in a black bag.”
“All your clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Shoes?”
“Yes.”
“What about your phone?”
Nina did not have a phone.
Smartwatch.
“Where is your watch?”
Her eyes widened.
I had not noticed.
“Grandma took it.”
“Why?”
“She said I didn’t need to call you over clothes.”
That was no longer about snobbery.
I sat up.
“When?”
“After I cried.”
“Did you ask to call me?”
“Yes.”
“And she said no?”
Nina nodded.
I got out of bed.
“Mom?”
“I’m getting water.”
I went to the kitchen.
Then called Naomi Price.
My lawyer.
At two-thirty in the morning.
She answered on the fifth ring.
“If you are calling because you flipped the table, I already know.”
“How?”
“Charles emailed company counsel and copied everyone.”
Of course.
“He took Nina’s smartwatch.”
Silence.
“Explain.”
I did.
Naomi’s voice changed.
“Document everything Nina tells you, but do not question her repeatedly.”
“I know.”
“Take photographs of her arm if there’s any mark.”
“None.”
“Good.”
“Naomi.”
“Yes?”
“Why did Sylvia need Nina’s phone gone over clothing?”
Naomi was quiet.
Then:
“Rachel, there’s something from the trust audit I was planning to show you Monday.”
“What?”
“Clothing reimbursements.”
My stomach tightened.
“What clothing reimbursements?”
“According to the Nina Mercer Trust, Sylvia has requested more than forty-two thousand dollars for Nina’s wardrobe over the past twenty-eight months.”
I stared at the dark kitchen.
“Nina wears Target.”
“I know.”
“Forty-two thousand?”
“Yes.”
May you like
“Where did the clothes go?”
“That is now a very important question.”
