Chapter 19 - Emmett Asked the Question Quentin Feared MostA year after Nora’s death investigation reopened, Emmett turned ten.
He wanted no large party.
No mansion ballroom.
No expensive magician.
“Pizza.”
Quentin nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Lego.”
“Obviously.”
“And Elliot.”
Quentin looked surprised.
“You want Uncle Elliot?”
Emmett grinned.
“He said I can call him that.”
Quentin smiled.
Elliot had visited five times during the year.
At first awkwardly.
Then less.
He never tried to become part of the family through blood alone.
He showed up.
Brought ridiculous model airplanes.
Listened when Emmett talked.
Let Silas climb onto his lap.
Quentin sometimes wondered whether Henry would have been relieved.
Then remembered relief was not the same as responsibility.
The birthday happened in the renovated East Room.
The walnut door remained.
No lock.
Bright paint.
Bookshelves.
Lego tables.
A small padded corner for Silas.
One wall displayed family photographs.
Nora laughing.
Katherine holding young Quentin.
Elliot with his daughter.
No Henry portrait dominating the room.
Not erased.
Simply not centered.
Emmett opened gifts.
Silas destroyed wrapping paper.
Everyone laughed.
Then Emmett became quiet.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask the bad question?”
Quentin’s chest tightened.
They had developed that phrase in therapy.
The bad question.
Meaning the question Emmett feared might make an adult angry.
“Yes.”
“Would Mom be alive if you came home when she called?”
The room seemed to disappear.
Elliot looked toward Quentin.
No rescue.
This was his answer.
Quentin sat beside Emmett.
“I don’t know.”
The boy’s face fell slightly.
Quentin continued.
“I wish I could tell you yes or no.”
“Did she want you home?”
“Yes.”
“Would Uncle Graham have been there if you were home?”
“Maybe not.”
“Then…”
Emmett stopped.
Quentin understood.
“But that still does not mean I caused what happened.”
Emmett watched him.
“I made a mistake by not listening to Mom.”
“Big mistake?”
“Yes.”
The truth.
“Uncle Graham made a different choice.”
“He grabbed her.”
“Yes.”
“Bernadette didn’t call.”
“Yes.”
“Those were their choices.”
“Yes.”
Emmett thought.
“So everybody can make mistakes in the same story.”
Quentin smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
“And only some are crimes.”
“Yes.”
“And kids don’t cause them.”
Quentin’s eyes filled.
“Exactly.”
Emmett nodded.
Then:
“I used to think I killed Mom because I went back upstairs.”
Quentin’s heart broke.
“You did what an adult told you.”
“I could’ve called 911.”
“You were eight.”
“I knew how.”
“Emmett.”
Quentin placed both hands around his son’s.
“You were a child watching something terrifying.”
“But—”
“No.”
He rarely interrupted him.
This time he did.
“Your mother’s death belongs to the adults who failed her.”
Emmett started crying.
“So not me?”
“Never you.”
The boy leaned into him.
Quentin held him.
After several minutes Silas wandered over carrying half a cupcake.
He pushed it against Emmett’s arm.
Frosting smeared his sleeve.
Emmett stared.
Then laughed.
The heaviness broke.
“Gross.”
Silas grinned.
Elliot wiped frosting from the toddler’s face.
“Your brother has excellent timing.”
Later that evening, after guests left, Quentin and Elliot sat in the East Room.
The door remained open.
Elliot looked around.
“My mother would hate this.”
“The paint?”
“The openness.”
Quentin smiled.
“Probably.”
Elliot looked at Katherine’s photograph.
“I wish I’d met her.”
“She would’ve liked you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
Quentin corrected himself.
“I think she would have.”
Better.
Less certainty.
Elliot smiled.
“You really are in therapy.”
“Painfully expensive.”
They laughed.
Then Elliot became serious.
“I got the final ruling on Henry’s account.”
“And?”
“It’s mine.”
“How do you feel?”
“Complicated.”
“Seems genetic.”
Elliot nodded.
“I’m keeping half.”
“What about the rest?”
“Scholarship.”
Quentin smiled.
“Good.”
Elliot looked toward the hallway.
“You know what’s strange?”
“What?”
“My mother spent my whole childhood telling me you stole my place.”
Quentin waited.
“I’m sitting in your house now.”
“Our family’s house.”
Elliot shook his head.
“No.”
A smile.
“Emmett’s Lego room.”
“Correct.”
They sat quietly.
Then Quentin’s phone buzzed.
A notification from the security system.
CAMERA REQUEST — EMMETT’S TABLET.
Quentin frowned.
Emmett no longer had control access.
Only the ability to request a video call through the family system.
He accepted.
The East Room wall screen activated.
Emmett appeared from Silas’s nursery.
“Dad!”
“What?”
“Come upstairs!”
Quentin’s heart jumped automatically.
“What happened?”
Emmett grinned.
“Nothing bad!”
Behind him, Silas stood beside the crib.
Holding the rail.
Then let go.
One step.
Two.
Three.
He fell safely onto his padded bottom.
Emmett shouted:
“He walked!”
Quentin laughed and ran upstairs.
Elliot followed.
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For once, a camera alert from inside the Ashford mansion meant nothing frightening.
It existed only because a ten-year-old wanted his father to see his baby brother take his first steps.
