Chapter 13: Who Hired Her

The guard walked the reporter and her cameraman back to the road, and Darlene went with them.

Sonya took tea in the garden room, with the big quiet guard standing in the doorway to see that she stayed there.

Grandfather had not asked for that.

I had not asked his permission.

"Library," I said. "Now."

He followed me down the hall with his cane tapping on the floor.

I shut the door behind us and did not leave it open a hand's width.

"Who hired her?"

He lowered himself into the chair by the window and set both hands on the cane.

"I did," he said.

"When?"

"The week Lantern signed your husband. Six years ago."

I had braced for a denial, and the plain answer was worse.

"Lantern is your label," I said. "You could have told me. You could have picked up a phone."

"You had told me you would rather have the hobby. You did not wish to hear from me."

"So you sent a woman to stand next to my husband."

"I sent a woman to tell me whether you were fed and warm and safe," he said. "She sent a report on the first of every month."

"A report."

"Where you went. Who visited. What you sang in the kitchen."

I thought of every invitation that had dissolved in six years.

The songwriters' week in Nashville, scheduled over a tour date.

My college roommate's wedding, the same.

The one trip I had planned to Charleston, when Birdie was a baby, cancelled because the label needed Colt in New York.

Sonya had arranged every one of those calendars.

"Did you tell her to keep me away from people?"

"I told her to keep your husband close to Lantern."

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