Chapter 7: She Came to the Hospital
I did not expect Rachel to come.
She arrived on the second morning, while Daniel was at Patricia's office and the floor was quiet.
A nurse showed her in before I could say anything, and suddenly she was standing in the doorway of my room in a soft gray coat, her hands folded in front of her, her expression arranged into something that looked almost like concern.
"Eleanor," she said.
"I wanted to see how you were doing."
I looked at her for a moment.
Then I said, "Come in."
She sat in the chair Daniel had used.
She set her bag on the floor beside her feet.
She looked around the room the way people do when they are deciding what version of themselves to perform.
"I know Daniel is angry," she said.
"I want you to know I understand that.
What happened at dinner was wrong.
I see that now."
"Do you."
"It went further than I intended.
I genuinely didn't think—" She stopped.
Adjusted.
"I've been under a great deal of stress.
That's not an excuse.
I just want you to understand that I'm not the person Daniel is making me out to be right now."
"What person is he making you out to be?"
She held my gaze steadily.
"Someone calculating.
Someone cruel." A small, sad smile.
"I love my husband.
I love my children.
I made a terrible mistake on Sunday, and I am prepared to take responsibility for that.
But I am worried that this is becoming something much larger than it needs to be."
"Someone called Gordon's office," I said.
"Using my name."
The small sad smile didn't move.
"I've already explained that to Daniel.
I was worried about you.
I should have come to you directly instead of trying to handle it quietly.
That was wrong of me."
"You impersonated me."
"I gave them your name because I was calling on your behalf.
I was trying to make sure your affairs were protected." She leaned forward slightly.
"Eleanor.
I know we have had our difficulties.
I know I have not always made you feel welcome.
But I want you to believe that I have never wished you harm."
I looked at my daughter-in-law.
Sixty-eight years old, lying in a hospital bed with a fractured hip, and she was sitting three feet away from me explaining that she had never wished me harm.
"Rachel," I said.
"Why did you ask Megan about my will?"
Something shifted behind her eyes.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
"I never asked Megan about your will."
"She says differently."
"Megan has never liked me.
I think you know that." Her voice stayed level and soft.
"I think someone has put a great many ideas into your head in the last forty-eight hours, and I think you are in pain and exhausted, and I think you deserve the chance to make your own decisions without Daniel and Megan deciding what the truth is."
She was good.
She was very, very good.
"You should go," I said.
She stood immediately, as though she had been expecting it.
She picked up her bag.
She moved to the door.
Then she stopped.
"I want you to think about the children," she said, without turning around.
"Whatever happens between Daniel and me — Lily and Owen need their family to be whole.
I hope you'll remember that when you're deciding how much further to take this."
She walked out.
The door swung softly shut behind her.
I reached for my phone and called Daniel.
He answered on the first ring.
"Rachel just left my room," I said.
Silence.
"She was here?" His voice went very flat.
"For about ten minutes.
She was composed.
She had an answer for everything." I paused.
"She ended by telling me to think about the children."
"That's a threat."
"I know."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine.
But Daniel — she's not going to stop.
She came here because she wanted to see how much I knew and whether I could be managed." I watched the door.
"She thinks I can be."
"Patricia needs to hear about this visit," he said.
"Don't move anything, don't sign anything.
I'll be there in an hour."
"There's something else," I said.
"She denied asking Megan about the will.
Very calmly.
Very completely."
"Megan's coming in this afternoon.
Patricia wants her statement in writing."
"Good." I shifted against the pillow.
My hip ached dully.
"Daniel.
She told me your affairs needed to be managed quietly.
Those were her words.
*Quietly.*" I paused.
"I think she's already done something.
I don't know what.
But I think we need to find out before she does it again."
The line was quiet for just a moment.
"Patricia said the same thing this morning," he said.
"She's already requested a financial disclosure."
I exhaled slowly.
Somewhere down the hall, a cart rattled past my door.
May you like
"Quietly," I said again, more to myself than to him.
But the word had already stopped meaning what Rachel needed it to mean.
