CHAPTER EIGHT — THE FAMILY TABLE
That evening, Andrew met his sister Claire and cousin Simon at a small restaurant across from the resort.
He had chosen somewhere with no view of the pool.
Claire listened without interrupting as he described the past twenty-four hours.
“She invited him to Mom’s party?” she asked finally.
Andrew nodded.
“She intended to announce the separation and introduce him afterward.”
Claire pushed away her plate.
“That’s cruel.”
“She says she didn’t want a fight.”
“Then she could have had a conversation,” Claire replied.
Simon leaned forward.
“There may be a bigger problem.”
Andrew looked at him.
“What now?”
“Hannah asked me to gather family photographs showing the two of you growing apart,” Simon said.
“I thought she was making a tribute about how people change.
”
“What photographs did you send?”
“A few from holidays when you were standing apart in group pictures.”
Claire stared at him.
“Simon.”
“I didn’t know why she wanted them,” he said.
“She told me the program was about change and gratitude.”
Andrew set down his fork.
“She was building evidence for a version of our marriage that didn’t exist.”
“Pictures can make almost any story if you select the right ones,” Claire said.
Simon looked miserable.
“I can explain that to anyone who saw them.”
“Don’t start spreading this further,” Andrew told him.
“I want the event to stay about Mom.”
Claire reached across the table.
“What are you going to do about Hannah?”
“I asked for space.”
“And after the weekend?”
Andrew looked at his untouched dinner.
“I don’t know yet.
”
Claire nodded.
“That’s allowed.”
For the first time, he felt relief in hearing that he did not need an immediate answer.
Simon removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“I keep thinking about how easy it was to believe her,” he said.
“She asked for something ordinary, and I gave it to her.”
“You weren’t the one who invented the story,” Andrew answered.
“But we should all ask questions when a photograph is offered as proof of somebody else’s feelings.”
The waiter arrived with the check.
Andrew reached for it automatically.
Claire caught his hand.
“For once, let somebody else pay,” she said.
He smiled faintly.
“All right.”
CHAPTER NINE — A ROOM WITHOUT AN AUDIENCE
Hannah sent Andrew sixteen messages between dinner and midnight.
Some apologized.
Others accused him of making the situation worse by telling his mother.
One claimed Ethan had misunderstood everything.
Andrew did not respond immediately.
At ten the next morning, he agreed to meet her in a small conference room with glass doors near the garden.
He chose a neutral place because he no longer trusted private explanations to stay private.
Hannah arrived carrying a notebook.
“I’ve written down what I need to say,” she told him.
Andrew took a seat.
“Then say it.”
She opened the notebook and looked at the first page.
“I wasn’t happy,” she began.
“I should have told you before I started seeing Ethan.”
Andrew waited.
“I thought if I admitted that, you’d ask what we could do to fix things,” she said.
“And I didn’t want to try.”
The honesty hurt, but he appreciated its shape.
“You could have said exactly that,” he answered.
“I was afraid you would make me feel selfish.”
“You don’t control what I feel,” Andrew said.
“You control what you say.”
Hannah nodded.
“When Ethan asked whether I was married, I told him we were practically separated.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted him to stay.”
“Then what happened?”
“He asked why we still lived together,” she said.
“I said the house was being sold.”
“And when he asked why we came on vacation together?”
“I told him it was for your mother.”
Andrew felt the pieces fall into place.
“Every new fact required another lie.”
“Yes.”
“When did you decide to invite him to the retirement dinner?”
Hannah shut the notebook.
“He was tired of waiting,” she said.
“He said he couldn’t keep being hidden.”
“So you promised him a public announcement.”
“I thought I could make the announcement true by then.”
“You thought you could make my consent appear by setting a date.”
Hannah began crying.
“It sounds terrible when you say it that way.”
“It’s terrible when you describe what happened,” Andrew replied.
He did not raise his voice.
“You planned to put me in front of everyone who loves my mother and make me either agree with a false story or look like the villain for refusing.”
“I didn’t think you would refuse,” she admitted.
Andrew sat back.
“You didn’t think I would have a choice.”
