“Sloan told her you burned the purse because you’re jealous that Harrison has a younger woman in his life.” Eleanor closed her eyes. “She said that to a nine-year-old?” “Not exactly in one sentence.”
“But close enough.” Claire’s voice hardened. “I told Harrison Sloan is not to discuss adult conflict around Lucy. He told me Sloan was only answering questions.”
Eleanor pressed two fingers to her forehead. “Of course he did.” Claire had divorced Harrison four years earlier after a marriage that ended without infidelity or scandal, mostly because they had become people who loved their daughter better than they loved each other. She understood Harrison’s weaknesses without hating him for them.
That made her alarm more credible. “I need to know whether the company thing is serious,” Claire said. “It is serious.” “Could he go to jail?”
“No evidence supports that.” “Could he lose his job?” “Yes.” Claire was silent.
Then she said, “Lucy thinks you’re going to stop loving him.” That sentence cut through everything else. Eleanor sank into a kitchen chair. “I will not stop loving him.”
“I know that. She doesn’t.” The next Saturday, Eleanor asked to take Lucy to lunch. They went to a small Italian restaurant where the child could order buttered noodles without judgment.
Lucy spent the first ten minutes pushing parmesan around her plate. Finally she looked up and asked, “Are you mad at Daddy forever?” “No.” “Are you going to fire him?”