Three days after I told Eleanor to show some gratitude, Kellan called me from the office.
"We're having dinner tonight," he said. "My mother's idea. Just family."
I stood in the bedroom, phone pressed to my ear. "Who's coming?"
"Malia." He said it like it was nothing. Like he'd said the weather forecast. "Mom thought it would be nice. A gesture of goodwill after the tension at the office."
I didn't answer right away. My thumbnail found my palm.
"Rosie?"
"Fine," I said. "What time?"
"Seven."
He hung up.
I stood there holding the phone. The pregnancy test was still in my purse, tucked in the inside pocket. I hadn't thrown it away. I hadn't looked at it again either.
I dressed carefully. Cream silk dress. Simple. Elegant. The kind of thing Eleanor couldn't criticize. I pulled my hair back and fastened my mother's pearl earrings.
In the mirror, I looked like myself. But I felt like a stranger.
Malia arrived at seven exactly.
She wore a navy wrap dress that hit just below the knee. Modest. Tasteful. She carried a small white box tied with ribbon—Swiss chocolates, the expensive kind Eleanor always ordered from that shop in Midtown.
Eleanor opened the door before I could move. "Malia! Come in, sweetheart."
Sweetheart.
I watched from the kitchen doorway as my mother-in-law embraced my husband's assistant in the foyer of the home I purchased.
Malia's smile was soft. A little nervous. "Mrs. Hughes, thank you so much for having me. I brought these—I hope you like them."
Eleanor opened the box. Her face lit up. "Oh, you remembered! Kellan, look—she remembered."
Kellan came down the hall, jacket off, sleeves rolled. He smiled at Malia. A real smile. The kind I hadn't seen directed at me in years.
"Glad you could make it," he said.
Malia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm honored to be here."
Nobody looked at me.
I set the table while Eleanor poured wine. Malia offered to help twice. I told her I had it. She sat at the dining table between Kellan and Eleanor like she'd always been there.
Dinner was roast chicken, garlic potatoes, green beans. I'd spent two hours cooking. Eleanor took one bite and said, "It's a little dry, Rosie."
Malia touched Eleanor's wrist gently. "I think it's perfect, Mrs. Hughes."
Eleanor smiled at her.
Kellan talked about a new contract Hughes Enterprises had just signed. Malia listened with her chin resting lightly on her hand, her eyes bright and focused. She asked small questions that made him elaborate. She laughed at the right moments.
Eleanor watched them both with satisfaction.
I ate my dry chicken and said nothing.
Then Malia turned to me.
"Rosie," she said warmly. "Do you miss it? Having a career, I mean. It must be so hard, giving all that up."
I set down my fork. "I didn't give it up. I chose to step back."
"Of course." She nodded earnestly. "I just mean—you were so accomplished. Columbia, right? Your father's company. And now…" She gestured vaguely at the table. At the kitchen behind me. At the life I'd built in this house. "I just admire your sacrifice so much."
Kellan nodded. "Rosie's always been supportive."
Eleanor sipped her wine. "A wife's role is support."
Malia's smile was gentle. Understanding. "Absolutely."
I pressed my thumbnail into my palm so hard I felt the skin break.
"More wine?" I said quietly.
Malia's glass was nearly empty. She held it out. "Just a little, thank you."
I poured. My hand was steady.
She reached for the bread basket at the same moment I set the bottle down.
Her hand knocked the glass.
Red wine splashed across the table in a wide arc. It hit my dress—cream silk, my mother's pearls at my ears—and spread in a dark stain from collarbone to waist.
Malia gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh God. Oh my God, I'm so sorry—I'm such a disaster—"
Kellan was already standing. He grabbed a napkin and handed it to her. Not to me. To her.
"It's fine," he said to Malia. "Accidents happen."
Eleanor reached over and patted Malia's hand. "Don't worry, sweetheart. It's just a dress."
I stood there. Wine dripping onto the floor. Napkin clutched uselessly in my hand.
Kellan finally looked at me. His face was tight. Annoyed.
"It was an accident," he said. "Stop overreacting."
The room went very quiet.
I looked at him. At Eleanor. At Malia, whose eyes were wide and apologetic and just a little too bright.
Something inside me didn't break.
It finished.
I set the napkin on the table. I walked to the bedroom. I locked the door.
I took off the ruined dress and left it on the floor.
Then I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone.
I called my father's lawyer.
