Chapter 8 - The Clothesline)
The second rooftop door opened onto the far end of the laundry area.
Emily ran between sheets moving in the wind.
She saw Rachel first.
Rachel was on her knees beneath a steel clothesline.
Above her hung Ava.
The padded back of the toddler's pink jacket had caught over the low line after someone lifted her onto it.
Her legs were off the ground.
Her boots kicked weakly.
Margaret stood beneath her.
Beatrice was beside the black suitcase.
Emily did not remember crossing the remaining distance.
Rachel reached Ava first.
She lifted her carefully, pulled the jacket free, and wrapped the toddler in a clean white sheet hanging nearby.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Margaret snapped, "Mind your own damn business."
Rachel turned away.
Ava clung to her.
Beatrice moved closer.
"Give her back."
Rachel's face hardened.
"Hell no. Stay the hell away from us."
Emily reached them.
Everything after that happened in fragments.
The empty pink jacket hanging from the line.
The suitcase.
Margaret's face.
Beatrice falling.
Diapers spilling.
Papers sliding.
A motel reservation.
A car receipt.
Childcare records.
The guardianship petition.
And Ava whispering, "Car."
Emily lifted the motel reservation.
"Why is there a motel room booked under Ava's name?"
Margaret stepped toward her.
"Give me that."
"No."
Emily saw something unfamiliar in her mother's eyes.
Panic.
For weeks Margaret had always been prepared.
Every accusation had an answer.
Every lie had a second lie behind it.
Now there were witnesses.
Physical evidence.
A suitcase.
And Ava.
Rachel said, "I saw Margaret trying to lift her down from the line when I came through the door."
Margaret spun.
"She slipped."
"She was hanging from her jacket."
"I was getting her down."
"Then why did Beatrice have a suitcase?"
"Because we're leaving."
Emily stared.
"With Ava?"
"No."
Beatrice suddenly said, "Margaret."
The warning in her voice was unmistakable.
Margaret turned on her.
"Shut up."
Emily slowly picked up the guardianship petition.
Several pages had handwritten notes.
One sentence had been circled.
Child temporarily outside custodial parent's supervision.
Emily looked at Beatrice.
"What were you going to do?"
Beatrice covered her face.
Margaret stepped between them.
"Nothing happened."
Rachel laughed in disbelief.
"A toddler was hanging from a clothesline."
"An accident."
"With a packed suitcase underneath her?"
Margaret pointed at Rachel.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
Ava started crying again.
Emily took her from Rachel.
The toddler immediately grabbed Emily's hair and buried her face against her neck.
Emily whispered, "You're okay."
Then she noticed a faint scrape near Ava's ankle.
Her fury returned.
She looked at Margaret.
"You will never touch her again."
Margaret's expression became strangely calm.
"You don't get to decide that."
"I just did."
"You think one dramatic scene changes reality?"
Rachel said, "I watched the scene."
Margaret ignored her.
"Emily, the court will see what you are."
Emily stepped closer.
"And what am I?"
"A woman who cannot cope."
Emily almost smiled.
For the first time, the phrase no longer frightened her.
"That's what you've been trying to make me believe."
Margaret's face tightened.
Emily continued.
"You took things from my apartment."
"No."
"You forged my signature."
"No."
"You told Owen I was emotionally fragile."
"He agreed."
Emily felt the lie land.
Then she remembered Owen's letter.
She looked Margaret directly in the eye.
"No, he didn't."
Something flickered across Margaret's face.
Emily saw it.
"He told me."
Margaret froze.
Emily lowered her voice.
"He left me a letter."
Beatrice looked at Margaret.
Margaret's lips parted.
Emily understood immediately.
"You didn't know."
No one moved.
"Owen knew about the debt."
Margaret's face lost color.
"He knew you asked about the trust."
Beatrice whispered, "Margaret, what did you tell me?"
Margaret turned.
"Not now."
Emily stared at both women.
"What did she tell you?"
Beatrice backed away.
Margaret grabbed her wrist.
"Don't."
Beatrice jerked free.
"You said Owen promised to help."
"He did."
"Emily just said he refused."
Margaret looked trapped.
Emily felt a new question rise.
"What exactly happened between you and Owen before he died?"
Margaret's eyes snapped toward her.
Nothing in the past three weeks had frightened Emily as much as the silence that followed.
Beatrice began crying.
Emily's voice shook.
"Aunt Bea."
Beatrice looked at her.
"Tell me."
Before she could answer, the rooftop door opened.
Mr. Alvarez and two building employees ran toward them, followed by Cynthia from the childcare center.
Rachel had triggered the emergency alarm minutes earlier.
There would be witnesses now.
Statements.
Security logs.
No more private explanations.
Margaret looked around and understood the same thing.
She leaned toward Emily.
"This isn't over."
Emily held Ava tighter.
"For you, it is."
Margaret smiled faintly.
Then she whispered something only Emily could hear.
"Ask Beatrice why Owen came to my apartment the night before he died."
Emily's blood went cold.
Owen had told Emily he was working late that night.
He had never mentioned seeing Margaret.
May you like
Emily looked at Beatrice.
Her aunt would not meet her eyes.
