Daddy Forgot, but Mommy Remembers novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Hello, Willa

Giselle corners Willa with a court order and an envelope of cash, Willa refuses, and Constance walks in to breakfast and says she cannot stay away.

Giselle didn't come upstairs.

She sent the housekeeper to tell me the kitchen needed me at seven, and I understood the invitation.

At seven the house was quiet.

Christian had left for an early meeting, and Poppy was still asleep.

Giselle stood at the kitchen island in her cream coat, pouring herself coffee from my old silver pot.

She didn't turn around.

"Hello, Willa," she said.

Hearing my real name in that voice made the back of my neck go cold.

I closed the kitchen door behind me.

"It's Ellie here," I said.

"Is it?" She finally faced me and took a slow sip.

"You cut your hair. And the glasses are a nice touch. Prison made you thin."

"You look well."

"I'm engaged to the man you wanted," she said. "I look wonderful."

She set the cup down very gently.

"Let me say this once, because I'm busy. There's a court order in your file. You cannot be within five hundred feet of that child."

"I know the order."

"Then you know that standing in her house is a violation, and a violation sends you straight back."

She slid a white envelope across the marble.

It was thick, and the corner of a bank band showed through the paper.

"Twenty thousand dollars," she said. "A bus ticket to anywhere you like. Go this morning, and nobody ever tells Christian who you are."

"Christian doesn't know me."

"Christian knows a thief named Willa Eastwick. He just doesn't know she's in his kitchen."

I looked at the envelope.

Then I looked at her fingers, which were perfectly steady.

"Where did the baby's birthday go?" I asked.

Her smile slipped a fraction.

"Excuse me?"

"Poppy's birthday is March eleventh. The photo over her bed says it was taken in August."

"You're mistaken."

"I was there," I said. "Nineteen hours. I don't forget."

Giselle laughed lightly, and it had a crack in it.

"You were there," she repeated. "And where were you for the next four years?"

"Where were you when she had croup, and learned to ride a bike, and lost her first tooth?"

"I did all of it. She calls me Mommy."

"She hums my song in her sleep."

I hadn't planned to say it.

It came out anyway, low and flat.

Giselle's eyes went hard and bright.

"Be careful," she said. "I'm being generous."

"You're being scared."

"Of you?" She actually laughed.

"You have no money, no name, and a record. If I make one phone call, a deputy takes you out in front of her."

"Then make the call."

The room went still.

I hadn't known I could do it, stand in the middle of that marble kitchen and say the words.

Four years in a cell teaches you what a bluff costs, and what it is worth.

Giselle's hand drifted toward the phone on the island.

It stopped there.

She was thinking.

I watched her do the math, and I saw the problem.

If the deputy came, I'd say who I was.

I'd say it in front of Christian and the housekeeper and Poppy, and I'd say whose daughter she was.

Giselle's whole life stood on that child not being questioned.

"You think you're clever," she said at last.

"I think I'm tired. I'm going to make Poppy pancakes."

"You are fired."

"Then you tell Christian why, and I'll tell him back."

She put her palm flat on the envelope and slid it back to her side.

Her mouth made a small smile that never reached her eyes.

"Fine," she said. "Stay a day. Look at her. Get it out of your system. I'll be watching every minute."

"I know you will."

"And Willa."

I stopped with my hand on the refrigerator.

"If you ever tell her you are her mother, I will make sure you never see her again."

She said it softly.

"Not in this life. Not even through a window."

My fingers locked on the handle.

I turned slowly.

"I haven't said it," I said. "I've been in this house a night. Be careful you don't say it for me."

The kitchen door opened.

Poppy stood there in striped pajamas with her rabbit under one arm and her hair in a bird's nest.

She looked at Giselle, then at me.

"Mommy Giselle, you're home," she said, and walked into Giselle's skirt without any joy.

Giselle's hand dropped to her curls, light and stiff.

"Hello, sweetheart. This is Ellie. She'll be helping us for a little while."

"I know," Poppy said. "She hums."

Giselle's hand tightened.

I turned away to the stove before my face could answer for me.

I cracked eggs with my back to both of them, and the whole room hummed with a fight no one was allowed to have.

Footsteps clicked into the hallway.

They were sharp heels, unhurried, and I knew the rhythm before I saw her.

Constance Thorsby came through the door in navy wool with her silver hair in a clean bob.

She was carrying a small box of pastries, the way she had carried them to my engagement lunch.

She saw Poppy first, and her whole face warmed.

Then she saw me, and every bit of warmth went out.

The box stopped halfway to the counter.

She didn't gasp, and she didn't drop it.

She set it down with care.

Then she said, in a voice only I was meant to hear, "Five years, and you still can't stay away."

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