Chapter 13: Forty-One Minutes

Two days later I took my phone down from behind the books.

Colin had been at the office both nights, and I had slept with the bedroom door locked.

The recorder showed one new file, forty-one minutes long.

It had started at four in the afternoon, when I was at the lawyer's.

I sat on the edge of the desk and pressed play.

A key turned in the front door, and heels crossed the hall.

She climbed the stairs slowly, with a pause on each landing.

The study door opened, and Simone breathed out, pleased with herself.

"Hi, Dad," she said. "You're on speaker."

Then my father's voice filled the room, small and tinny.

"Are you in the house?"

"I'm in the house. Jeanie's at the lawyer's. Tell me you did it."

"I signed it this morning."

"The will?"

"Everything to you and the baby. Your mother cried."

"Florence always cries," Simone said. "She'll cry and sign anything, if you make it look like I'm the one who got hurt."

I held the phone with both hands.

"What about Jean?" my father asked.

"Jean has a husband. Jean has a house she'll lose by January. Dad, don't do this thing where you pity her, please."

"And the date?"

"The doctor will move the induction to the twenty-fourth. I asked nicely."

"Why so early?"

"Because Colin hasn't asked for a test yet."

There was a long gap on the recording.

"Simone."

"If he asks after the baby's here, it's his child in front of everyone, and nobody makes a scene in a maternity ward. Let me do this, Dad."

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