Chapter 8: What Eleanor Did Next
I had expected Eleanor to disappear.
That was what I'd told Ruth — that once Daniel left, Eleanor would go with him, and I'd never have to see her again.
I was wrong.
She came to the door three days later.
Alone.
No Daniel.
No warning.
I opened it because I saw her through the glass panel and I decided, in the two seconds I had, that I was not going to be the person who hid.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
She was wearing her good coat, the navy one she saved for occasions, and she was holding her handbag with both hands in front of her like a shield.
"I'm not here to fight," she said.
"All right."
"May I come in?"
I stepped back.
She came in and stood in the hallway and looked at the house the way people look at places they expected to feel more familiar.
I didn't offer tea.
I waited.
"I want to say something," Eleanor said.
"And I want you to let me finish before you respond."
"Go ahead."
She looked at her handbag.
Then at me.
"What I did — in the bedroom that night — there is no excuse for it.
I've told myself a dozen stories about why it made sense at the time.
None of them hold up." She paused.
"I thought I was protecting my son.
I thought if you kept your career and your independence, you'd eventually leave him.
I thought I was preventing something." Another pause.
"I was wrong.
About all of it."
I said nothing.
"I didn't know about the woman," Eleanor said.
"Vivienne.
I want you to know that.
I knew he was unhappy.
I knew he was pulling away from the marriage.
I thought it was about your work, your hours, the life you'd built that didn't include him enough.
I didn't know there was someone else." Her voice tightened on the last three words.
"I wouldn't have helped him if I'd known that."
"But you did help him," I said.
"Yes."
"You held me down."
"Yes."
The hallway was very quiet.
"Eleanor," I said.
"Why are you here?"
She looked up.
Her eyes were dry, but only just.
"Because I did something that cannot be undone, and I know it.
And I am too old to spend whatever time I have left pretending I didn't." She straightened slightly.
"I've spoken to your attorney.
I've agreed to provide a written statement confirming that Daniel asked me to — to assist that night.
That it was planned in advance.
That I knew about the resignation." She swallowed.
"It will help your case."
I stared at her.
"Why?" I said.
"Because he lied to me too," she said simply.
"And because what was done to you was wrong.
And I am his mother, but I am not willing to be the woman who helped cover it up."
She held out an envelope.
I took it.
"That's a copy of the statement," she said.
"Your attorney has the original."
She turned toward the door.
"Eleanor."
She stopped.
I didn't know what I was going to say until I said it.
"I don't forgive you yet," I said.
"But I heard you."
She nodded once.
Opened the door.
Walked out into the gray morning.
I stood in the hallway for a long time, holding the envelope.
Then I called Patricia.
"She came," I said.
"I know.
The statement is strong, Nora.
This changes things considerably."
"How considerably?"
"Daniel's attorney called this morning.
They want to negotiate."
May you like
I looked at the envelope in my hand.
"Tell them," I said, "that I'm listening."
