Chapter 5: The Other Side of the Name
I stepped outside onto the sidewalk, phone pressed to my ear, the lunch noise of the cafe muffled behind the glass door.
"How did you get this number?" I asked.
"David gave it to me.
I called the cafe first.
I hope that's all right."
I looked through the window.
Ariella was at a table near the back, smiling at something an older gentleman had said.
A real smile this time — not the tired one from earlier.
"What do you want, Mrs.
Holloway?"
"I want to explain.
And I want to help, if you'll let me." Her voice was careful.
Not rehearsed — careful.
There's a difference.
"What Renata did today was not the first time.
I've been told about the others.
I didn't handle it the way I should have."
"She's your daughter-in-law," I said.
"What exactly were you supposed to do?"
"More than I did." A breath.
"My son thinks she's difficult but harmless.
He's wrong, and I've known he's wrong, and I've said nothing because it was easier not to." She stopped.
"I'm sorry.
I know that's not enough."
I leaned against the wall.
The sun was warm on my face.
A delivery truck rolled past.
"You said you wanted to help," I said.
"What does that mean?"
"Your daughter has thyroid problems.
David mentioned it — I hope you don't mind.
I'm a retired endocrinologist.
I worked at Mercy General for twenty-two years." Another pause.
"I'd like to see her.
As a physician.
No charge.
And I have contacts at the hospital's patient assistance program.
There may be options for her treatment costs that you haven't been told about."
I didn't answer right away.
"Why?" I finally said.
"Because my daughter-in-law humiliated your child in public and I have spent too long looking the other way." Her voice didn't waver.
"And because your daughter stood there and handled herself with more grace than most adults I know.
She deserved better.
So did you."
I looked through the glass again.
Ariella was laughing now — really laughing — at something the old man had said.
He was laughing too.
"I'll think about it," I said.
"That's all I'm asking."
We arranged to speak again the following day.
I went back inside and sat down across from Nora, who immediately looked at my face and said, "What happened?"
"Something unexpected," I said.
"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?"
I watched Ariella move between tables — steady, unhurried, her hand resting briefly on the shoulder of an elderly woman who seemed to be eating alone.
"I don't know yet," I said.
That evening, after Ariella's shift ended, the three of us walked home together.
The letter was still in Ariella's apron pocket.
She hadn't mentioned it since the cafe.
Neither had I.
Halfway home she said, without looking at me: "He knew I'd have a hard day eventually."
"Yes," I said.
"He planned for it."
"Yes."
She was quiet for half a block.
Then: "I think I want to read it again tonight.
By myself."
"Of course."
She nodded.
We kept walking.
It wasn't until we were almost at our door that I remembered something.
Renata had looked at her phone and gone pale.
Patricia had called the cafe within the hour.
May you like
That was too fast for coincidence.
Whatever had come through on Renata's phone — Patricia had sent it.
