Chapter 2 - “She Should Know Her Place”Mallory read the sentence twice.
Then a third time.
The paper was only one page from what appeared to be a much larger document.
It referred to a property transfer involving the house on Fox Hollow Drive.
Her house.
The home her father had left her.
“What is this?”
Bernice crossed the kitchen.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing doesn’t usually contain my legal name and the words ‘transfer of ownership.’”
“You’re taking a page out of context.”
“Then give me the context.”
Bernice glanced toward the relatives.
“Not in front of everyone.”
Mallory almost laughed.
“You had no problem humiliating my daughters in front of everyone.”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this.”
Wren pressed closer to her mother.
Mallory immediately noticed.
The child was trying to make herself smaller.
Mallory rested one hand on Wren’s shoulder.
“Where did you find it?”
Before Wren could answer, Bernice said, “She went through my things.”
Mallory looked at her.
“She’s eleven.”
“She knows better.”
“Where did she find it?”
Bernice remained silent.
“Wren?”
“In Grandma’s purse.”
Bernice’s face hardened.
“I told you not to touch my bag.”
Wren looked down.
“It fell over.”
“Wren,” Mallory said gently, “look at me.”
Her daughter did.
“You are not in trouble.”
Bernice scoffed.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Mallory ignored her.
“Tell me what happened.”
Wren hesitated.
“Grandma was in Grandpa’s office.”
Mallory’s stomach tightened.
Her father’s study.
Nobody used it anymore.
Not since Edward Barrett died four years earlier.
Mallory had kept almost everything inside exactly as he left it: his books, the walnut desk, framed photographs, the model sailboat Wren had given him when she was five.
Bernice entered occasionally.
But she claimed she hated being in there.
“It makes me feel like he just walked out yesterday,” she always said.
Apparently that had changed.
Wren continued.
“She had her purse and a big brown folder.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Mallory stared at Bernice.
“You were in Dad’s office last night?”
“I’m allowed to walk anywhere in this house.”
“Of course you are. That isn’t what I asked.”
Bernice lifted her chin.
Wren whispered, “I went in this morning because I was looking for tape for Elsie’s decorations. Grandma’s purse was on the chair. It tipped over.”
“And this fell out?”
Wren nodded.
“I saw your name.”
“Did you take anything else?”
“No.”
Bernice said sharply, “She stole private documents.”
Mallory’s patience finally broke.
“She found a document involving my property.”
“Your property.”
The bitterness in Bernice’s voice was impossible to miss.
Mallory stared at her.
“Yes. My property.”
Something passed through the room.
A few relatives looked away.
Mallory noticed.
Interesting.
She folded the paper and placed it inside her coat pocket.
Bernice extended a hand.
“Give it back.”
“No.”
“Mallory.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand what you’re looking at.”
“Then explain it.”
Bernice lowered her hand.
“This is absurd.”
“Explain why there is paperwork transferring my house.”
“There isn’t.”
“I’m holding it.”
“It’s a draft.”
“Of what?”
“A possibility.”
“What possibility?”
Bernice glanced around.
“This is not the time.”
Mallory’s voice lowered.
“You chose the time when you brought twenty relatives into my house and treated my daughters like servants.”
Bernice’s lips thinned.
“Again with the dramatics.”
Aunt Diane finally spoke.
“Maybe everybody should go.”
Mallory looked at her.
Bernice immediately said, “Nobody is going anywhere.”
Mallory turned back.
“Yes, they are.”
“Elsie hasn’t opened her presents.”
“The party is over.”
Elsie clung harder to Mallory’s coat.
One by one, chairs scraped against the hardwood floor.
The relatives stood awkwardly.
No one said goodbye properly.
Several people tried to hug Elsie.
Mallory did not stop them, but she watched every face.
Some looked embarrassed.
Some irritated.
Some afraid.
That last group interested her most.
Cousin Todd whispered something to his wife near the front hallway.
Mallory couldn’t hear all of it.
But she caught three words.
“…wasn’t supposed to…”
He noticed her watching and stopped.
Mallory filed it away.
Within ten minutes, the house was nearly empty.
Only Bernice remained.
Mallory brought the girls into the living room.
“Wren, take Elsie upstairs.”
“But—”
“Just for a little while.”
Wren looked at Bernice.
That fear again.
Mallory crouched.
“You’re safe.”
Wren nodded.
She took Elsie’s hand.
As the girls reached the staircase, Elsie turned.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Are you mad at me?”
Mallory’s heart cracked.
“No, baby.”
“Grandma said I made everybody wait because I cried.”
Mallory stared at Bernice.
Bernice looked away.
Mallory forced her voice to stay gentle.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Go with Wren.”
When they disappeared upstairs, Mallory walked back into the kitchen.
The birthday cake sat half-eaten.
Four candles lay on the counter.
Bernice began stacking plates as though nothing unusual had happened.
Mallory watched her for several seconds.
Then she said, “Who prepared the paperwork?”
Bernice didn’t answer.
“Was it a lawyer?”
Still nothing.
“A real-estate company?”
Bernice finally turned.
“You are making this into something ugly because you came home at exactly the wrong moment.”
Mallory stared at her.
“The wrong moment?”
Bernice realized her mistake.
Mallory stepped closer.
“What was supposed to happen before I came home?”
“Nothing.”
“What paper was I supposed to sign?”
“You’re tired.”
“What paper?”
Bernice suddenly slammed a plate onto the counter.
“Your father should never have put this entire property in your name.”
There it was.
Mallory felt something inside her settle.
Not anger.
Understanding.
“This is about Dad’s will.”
Bernice’s expression didn’t change.
“You were twenty-eight when he changed it.”
“I was thirty-one.”
“He was sick.”
“He was perfectly competent.”
“He was influenced.”
“By whom?”
“You.”
Mallory stared.
The accusation was so absurd she almost dismissed it.
Then she remembered the page in her pocket.
“Dad left you everything else.”
“Everything else.”
Bernice laughed without humor.
“He left me investment accounts and furniture. He left you the one thing that mattered.”
“This house?”
“This was our home.”
“And he gave you lifetime residence.”
“I shouldn’t need permission from my daughter to live in my own house.”
“You don’t.”
“But you own it.”
“Yes.”
The word hung between them.
Bernice’s eyes sharpened.
“You always did enjoy saying that.”
Mallory almost denied it.
Then she stopped herself.
“No. I almost never say it. That’s why you’ve become comfortable pretending it isn’t true.”
Bernice stepped back.
“You’re going to regret talking to me like this.”
Mallory pulled the folded page from her pocket.
“I think you’re the one who should be worried.”
Bernice’s face became unreadable.
Mallory continued.
“Tomorrow morning, I’m calling the attorney who handled Dad’s estate.”
Bernice went very still.
“And after that?”
Mallory looked toward the staircase.
“Then I’m finding out exactly what you’ve been doing while I was away.”
Bernice studied her daughter.
For the first time, she seemed to understand that Mallory wasn’t bluffing.
Then she smiled.
A small, cold smile.
“You think that page proves something.”
Mallory said nothing.
“It doesn’t.”
Bernice picked up her wineglass from the table.
“You should ask yourself a better question.”
“What?”
Bernice took a sip.
“How many people sitting at that table already knew?”
Mallory’s blood ran cold.
Bernice walked out of the kitchen.
And suddenly Mallory understood why no one had defended Wren.
The silence at the birthday party had never been cowardice.
May you like
At least not for all of them.
Some of them had been waiting for something.
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