Chapter 2 - The Woman in Kansas City
I didn't move.
“If the conversation concerns my children, I'm staying.”
My mother looked at Grandpa for support and found none.
He opened the notebook to a page filled with his precise block handwriting.
“Linda called because she was frightened,” he said.
“Of what?” I asked.
“Carol told her the bag contained a surprise for the children.
She said it had to stay hidden until the twenty-eighth.”
“That part I already know.”
“Linda opened it yesterday.
She found the gifts and a copy of Carol's instructions.
Then Carol called and told her to burn the paper.”
Mom gripped the back of her chair.
“I said no such thing.”
Grandpa took out his phone.
He played a voicemail.
Linda's shaky voice filled the kitchen: “Harold, I never would have helped if I'd known those kids were being punished.
Carol's asking me to deny receiving the bag.
I don't want to lie.”
My mother lunged toward the phone, then stopped herself.
“That recording is out of context.”
Grandpa switched it off.
“Then give us the context.”
Mom began talking about my parenting, her sacrifices, the cost of the chalet, and how Beth's boys always behaved beautifully.
Not one word addressed Linda.
I asked the question that had been burning a hole in me since nine fourteen.
“How did you get my bag checked under your name?”
“I offered to help at the airport.”
“You said you were taking it to an oversized-baggage counter.”
“I was.”
“You told me the carousel broke.”
“It did.”
“You told my children an employee had promised to find their presents.”
“I was trying to keep them calm.”
“No, you were trying to keep me from looking.”
She folded her arms like a person with nothing to hide.
“You're making me sound like some kind of criminal.”
“I'm describing what you did.”
From the hall came a quiet creak.
Lily stood on the bottom stair in her mismatched pajamas.
She'd heard enough to understand the only thing that mattered.
“Grandma had our presents?”
Mom moved toward her.
“Sweetheart, this is grown-up business.”
Lily stepped backward.
“Did you know they weren't lost?”
My mother looked at me instead of answering.
Lily's voice became smaller.
“Did you?”
I knelt beside my daughter.
“I'm so sorry, honey.
I just found out this morning.”
She studied my face, then my mother's.
“Why would she do that?”
The room held its breath.
Mom said, “Because children sometimes need to learn to be grateful.”
Lily nodded once.
“Okay.”
I knew that tone.
It meant she was putting the hurt somewhere she could carry it without letting anybody see.
She turned and climbed upstairs.
I started after her, but Grandpa touched my shoulder.
“Go to her,” he said.
“I'll finish here.”
Halfway up the stairs, I heard my mother hiss, “You have no idea what that boy has been hiding.”
May you like
Grandpa replied, “Then you'll have no trouble showing me.”
