Part 5
“Come in,” I said. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”
Nathan stepped aside so Lauren could pass him. She hung her coat beside his, and Joyce handed me the bag she had brought. It contained a cake in a clear plastic box. I thanked her and found a place for it on the counter while Marjorie asked to see Benjamin.
We ate first. Lauren had come in braced for something, and I could see her waiting whenever I put down my fork. I asked how the baby was sleeping. Nathan described an hour in the middle of the night when Benjamin had been perfectly content to watch him walk around the living room. Lauren corrected the hour, then smiled when he admitted he hadn’t looked at the clock.
“Your father would have lasted ten minutes,” Marjorie said.
“He used to tell me he was patient,” Nathan said.
“He told a lot of people that. Ask your mother what happened when he had to assemble your crib.”
“He decided the instructions were meant for a different crib,” I said. “They were right in the end.”
Nathan laughed. He passed Lauren the potatoes, then reached for the serving spoon before I had to ask. For a few minutes, the baby and the meal gave everyone something ordinary to do. Joyce inquired about his next appointment, and Marjorie wanted to know whether the doctor had said anything about that frown.
Lauren ate a second helping of the roast. “This is really good, Evelyn. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’re hungry.”
She looked tired. When Benjamin stirred in his carrier, she wiped her hands and went to him without finishing what she had been saying. I watched her bend over her son. I wanted her to be able to bring him here without dread, and I wanted to be able to open my own door without preparing to be dismissed.
The blanket stayed folded between the dishes.
Once, Joyce shifted a bowl to make more room and stopped just short of touching it. Nobody asked why it was there. We finished eating, and Marjorie helped me carry the plates to the kitchen.
By the time I brought coffee, Benjamin was sleeping against Nathan’s chest. My son kept one hand across his back while I sat down with a cup and the seam ripper. Lauren watched me put the little tool beside my saucer.
“I’d like to give the gift properly this time,” I said.
I drew the blanket toward me and turned back the lower border. The two loose stitches came away easily. I opened the pocket, took out the documents in their dated bundles, and laid them on the cleared table. The sealed envelope followed.
Nathan leaned forward as far as the baby allowed. I turned the first bundle so he could see the date, then showed him Walter’s writing on the envelope.
“Your father began when you were two,” I said. “He kept buying them for almost thirty years. These are the paper bonds. These records are for the ones he bought later.”
Nathan touched the edge of a certificate. His hand stayed there while his eyes moved down the page. Marjorie sat with her coffee untouched, and Joyce drew her chair closer to the table.
“How much?” she asked.
“The bank checked everything. A little over forty-seven thousand dollars.”
Lauren’s face went pale. Nathan had already told her the amount, but she looked at the bundles as though he might have misunderstood. I set the envelope in front of her without letting go of it.
“This is a private letter to Benjamin. Walter dictated it to me in the hospital. He wants his grandson to read it when he’s eighteen, so he can know something of the man who wanted so much to meet him.”
“If someone had explained what was going on,” Lauren said, “I would never have done that.”
I left the envelope on the table. She looked from it to Nathan, but he was watching me.
“You knew what was in it,” she said. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“You were throwing a blanket in the garbage. You understood that part.”
“I thought everyone knew it was a joke. Tessa was filming, and people were laughing. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“What did you think would happen to me while everybody laughed?”
I gave her time to answer.
The baby moved his mouth in his sleep, and Nathan adjusted his hand. Lauren looked down at her coffee, then toward the kitchen doorway.
Joyce set her cup on the saucer. “She was keeping the room entertained. There were a lot of people there.”
“You applauded,” I said.
“I didn’t know about the money either.”
“You knew she was throwing away something I had made.”
Joyce pressed her lips together. I had often let that expression end a conversation, especially when Nathan was present and there was still a meal to get through.
This time I kept my hands on the table.
“Please don’t help her excuse it now.”
Lauren’s eyes filled. “I feel like I was being tested. You all knew something I didn’t, and now I’m supposed to sit here while you tell me what kind of person I am.”
“You could have put it on a chair,” I said. “You could have thanked me and put it in a closet later. I would have been disappointed if you never used it, but I wouldn’t have had to lift it out of the trash in front of your guests.”
I smoothed the opened seam. The muslin was clean, and one short end of thread remained where I had removed the stitches. I took it between my fingers and pulled it free.
“Benjamin will receive every cent his grandfather saved. That was Walter’s wish, and it hasn’t changed. I’ve had a trust prepared for him. An independent trustee will manage the money for his education and his start in life.”
“A trust?” Lauren said.
“When the funds are transferred, they will belong to Benjamin. Neither of you will be able to withdraw them for yourselves or borrow them. I won’t be able to take them back either.”
“We’re his parents. You don’t trust us to decide what our baby needs?”
Nathan shifted Benjamin a little higher against his shoulder. “Mom. I understand.”
Lauren turned toward him. He kept his eyes on me.
“I know it includes me,” he said.
I nodded. “It does.”
I explained that I would pay the expenses myself, so the gift would arrive intact. Irene would oversee the remaining arrangements. The private letter would remain sealed and safely kept for his eighteenth birthday. I held it up once more before setting it beside the bonds.
“The blanket will stay here for now,” I said. “When it comes back to your house, I want to know it will be welcome.”
“You gave it to us,” Lauren said.
“It was thrown away.”
She pushed her chair back an inch. “I can’t undo that. I didn’t understand what was happening, and now you won’t even—”
“Lauren. Let her finish.”
Nathan’s voice was quiet, but she stopped. He straightened in his chair, keeping Benjamin securely against him. The child made a small sound and settled again.
“I am letting her—”
“You’re telling her why it’s her fault.”
Lauren stared at him. Joyce drew breath as if she intended to speak, then reached for her cup instead. I left the blanket where it was.
“Mom shouldn’t have needed forty-seven thousand dollars in that blanket for us to care,” Nathan said.
He looked at me, and this time he held my eyes.
I put the private letter beside the other papers and reached into my cardigan pocket. “Your father left a shorter message for the family too. He asked me to read it the day the gift was opened.” I took out the envelope and unfolded the single sheet…
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