Chapter 8 - What Happened When Mallory Was AwayMallory didn’t interrogate Wren.
She made hot chocolate.
That distinction mattered.
Jenna had suggested it.
“Kids tell you more when they don’t feel like witnesses,” she said.
So Mallory and Wren sat on the back patio that evening with mugs of hot chocolate despite the August heat.
Elsie played with sidewalk chalk nearby.
Mallory asked questions softly.
Not What did Grandma do?
But:
“What were days like while I was gone?”
At first, Wren said:
“Normal.”
Then:
“Mostly normal.”
Then finally:
“Different.”
“How?”
Wren traced a finger through condensation on her glass.
“Grandma had people over more.”
“Who?”
“Aunt Diane. Uncle Franklin. Todd.”
“Richard?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Tall man. Gray hair.”
Wren nodded.
“Him too.”
“How often?”
“Twice.”
Mallory stayed quiet.
Wren continued.
“They always went into Grandpa’s office.”
“What did you and Elsie do?”
“Stayed upstairs.”
“Did Grandma tell you to?”
Wren nodded.
“She said grown-ups were talking.”
“That’s fair.”
Wren looked relieved that not everything was automatically wrong.
Mallory wanted that.
Truth mattered more than turning Bernice into a monster.
“What happened after?”
“Sometimes Grandma got mad.”
“At you?”
“If we came downstairs.”
“Why?”
“She said we were nosy.”
Mallory took a sip.
“Did she ask you to do more chores than usual?”
Wren shrugged.
“Kind of.”
“How much?”
“I washed dishes. Vacuumed. Folded towels. Cleaned the downstairs bathroom.”
Mallory fought to keep her expression neutral.
Chores were not inherently cruel.
Wren had responsibilities even when Mallory was home.
But the volume mattered.
“Every day?”
“Mostly.”
“What did Grandma do?”
“Meetings.”
“And Elsie?”
“I watched her.”
“For how long?”
Wren looked at her.
“Sometimes all afternoon.”
Mallory’s stomach clenched.
“Grandma was home?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In Grandpa’s office.”
Mallory breathed slowly.
“So you were cleaning and watching your sister while Grandma had meetings.”
Wren nodded.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Wren looked toward Elsie.
“Grandma said you were stressed.”
“We talked every night.”
“She said you sounded tired.”
Mallory remembered Bernice often taking the phone first.
The girls are fine. Don’t worry about anything here.
Wren added:
“She said if I made you come home, you might lose your job.”
Mallory’s grip tightened around the mug.
“My job is not that fragile.”
“I know now.”
“What else did she say?”
Wren hesitated.
Mallory waited.
“She said if you lost money, maybe we couldn’t stay here.”
There it was.
Fear.
House.
Security.
Mallory set down the mug.
“Wren, did Grandma ever tell you I could lose custody of you?”
Wren’s eyes widened.
“How did you know?”
Mallory felt anger flash so fast she almost stood.
“What did she say?”
“That if adults think a mom can’t handle things, children can be sent somewhere else.”
Mallory forced herself to remain still.
“When?”
“When I said I was going to tell you she made me watch Elsie all day.”
Mallory looked toward her youngest daughter.
Elsie was drawing a purple sun.
Bernice had used foster care as a threat to silence an eleven-year-old.
“Did Grandma say someone was trying to take you away?”
“No.”
“Did she say she would?”
“No.”
Mallory exhaled slightly.
Important distinction.
“What exactly did she say?”
Wren repeated it.
“‘If you keep creating problems for your mother, people might start wondering if she can manage you girls.’”
Mallory closed her eyes.
Bernice could later claim it was merely a warning.
That was how she operated.
Never explicit enough to be easily condemned.
Always clear enough to create fear.
“What happened at the birthday party?”
Wren’s mouth tightened.
“Grandma woke me up early.”
“To decorate?”
“At first.”
“What then?”
“I helped make breakfast.”
“Okay.”
“Then people came.”
“What time?”
“Before lunch.”
“Why did you start washing dishes?”
“She told me.”
“How many times?”
Wren thought.
“Three loads?”
“Why didn’t adults help?”
“Grandma said they were guests.”
“And you?”
Wren’s eyes lowered.
“She said I lived here.”
Mallory felt Bernice’s phrase again.
Know her place.
“What about Elsie?”
“She cried because Grandma wouldn’t let her open your present.”
“What present?”
“The big one you mailed.”
Mallory remembered.
A play kitchen.
“Why not?”
“Grandma said she was ungrateful because she asked when you were coming home.”
Mallory’s throat tightened.
“Did anyone comfort her?”
“I did.”
“And then?”
“Grandma said if she couldn’t behave, she could stay in the kitchen with me.”
Mallory looked toward the house.
Through the glass doors, Bernice was visible in the sunroom.
Reading.
Calm.
Wren continued.
“That’s why she was next to me when you came.”
Mallory’s eyes burned.
Then Wren said something that changed everything.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“There was a man here before the party.”
“What man?”
“He brought an envelope.”
Mallory straightened.
“What did he look like?”
“Brown hair. Blue shirt. He had a badge thing.”
“Badge?”
“Like work ID.”
“What did he say?”
“I only heard Grandma.”
“What did she say?”
Wren’s brow furrowed.
“She said, ‘Mallory will sign tonight.’”
Mallory’s pulse jumped.
“And the man?”
“He said something like, ‘Then we can schedule Monday.’”
“Schedule what?”
“I don’t know.”
Mallory reached for her phone.
Before she could call Gregory, Wren grabbed her sleeve.
“There’s more.”
Mallory stopped.
“Tell me.”
Wren lowered her voice.
“Grandma didn’t know I was in the hallway.”
“Okay.”
“She said something after the man left.”
“To who?”
“She was on the phone.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
Wren looked frightened.
“She said, ‘Once the house closes, Mallory can be angry all she wants.’”
Mallory felt the air leave her lungs.
Not transfer.
Not restructuring.
Closing.
Sale.
The buyer may already have been arranged.
Mallory called Gregory immediately.
He answered.
“Gregory, I need you to find out whether there is a purchase contract.”
“Why?”
“Because I think someone came here yesterday expecting me to sign something so they could close Monday.”
Silence.
Then Gregory said:
“I’m on it.”
Mallory ended the call.
Wren looked at her.
“Are we going to lose the house?”
Mallory took both of her daughter’s hands.
“No.”
“You promise?”
Mallory looked straight into her eyes.
“Yes.”
She didn’t know yet whether she could legally guarantee that.
But she knew something else.
No one would take this home from her daughters without a fight.
Then Mallory noticed Elsie had stopped drawing.
The four-year-old was staring toward the house.
Mallory followed her gaze.
Bernice stood behind the glass doors.
May you like
Watching them.
And even from across the patio, Mallory could see that her mother had heard enough to know Wren was talking.
Related Stories
