Chapter 5: What Mark's Family Said
I had been avoiding the call for four days.
Mark's mother, Diane, had left three voicemails since the funeral.
The first was grief.
The second was logistics — something about the headstone, a question about the reception.
The third was shorter, and her voice in it was different.
*Claire.
There are some things we need to discuss.
About the estate.
About arrangements.
Please call me back.*
I called her back on a Tuesday morning, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea I hadn't touched.
She answered on the first ring.
"Claire.
Thank you for calling."
"Of course.
How are you holding up?"
"We're managing." A pause.
"I'll get to the point.
Robert and I have been speaking with Mark's attorney."
Robert was Mark's father.
I had always liked him.
He was quiet and careful and kind.
Diane was the one who ran things.
"Okay," I said.
"There's the matter of the house.
And the savings.
Mark's will is straightforward — everything to you, as his wife.
We have no objection to that."
"I appreciate you saying so."
"However." She paused again, and in that pause I felt the shape of what was coming.
"We've been made aware of a situation.
Regarding a child."
My hand tightened around the mug.
"Mark told you?" I asked.
"His attorney informed us.
It was necessary, apparently, given the estate implications." Her voice was very controlled.
"We want you to know that we had no idea.
None.
If Mark had told us, we would have — we would have handled it differently."
"Handled what differently?"
"The child, Claire.
The girl."
"Her name is Lily."
A silence.
"Yes," Diane said.
"Lily.
We understand you've already visited her."
"I have."
"And what are your intentions?"
I set down the mug.
"I'm still figuring that out."
"I see." Another pause, longer this time.
"Claire, I want to be very direct with you.
You are about to give birth to our grandchild.
You are a widow.
You are alone.
Taking on another child — a child with no legal connection to you, a child from a relationship that — "
"Diane."
She stopped.
"I hear what you're saying," I said.
"But I need you to understand something.
Mark asked me to meet her.
He asked me not to let her disappear.
I'm not going to make any decisions today, but I am not going to pretend she doesn't exist."
"No one is asking you to pretend anything.
We're asking you to be practical."
"She's five years old.
She just lost her mother and her father within two months of each other.
Practical isn't the first word that comes to mind."
Diane's voice dropped.
"If you pursue this — if you try to take legal responsibility for this child — it will complicate everything.
The estate, the inheritance, your daughter's future.
You need to think about what you're doing."
"I am thinking about it."
"Are you?
Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're making an emotional decision in the worst possible moment of your life."
I stood up from the table.
I walked to the window.
Outside, the neighbor's cat was sitting on the fence post, watching nothing.
"Mark trusted me," I said.
"He knew he was dying, and he knew he couldn't fix this himself, and he trusted me to figure it out.
I'm not going to prove him wrong."
Silence.
"Robert and I would like to meet with you," Diane said finally.
"Before you do anything.
Just a conversation."
"Fine.
But I want Mark's attorney there."
A beat.
"That's not necessary."
"It is for me."
Another silence.
Longer.
"Fine," she said.
We agreed on Thursday.
I hung up and stood at the window for a moment longer.
The cat on the fence post had gone.
I picked up my phone again and found the number Carol had given me.
I typed a short message.
*This is Claire.
I left something behind by accident.
Would it be all right if I came by again on Wednesday?*
The reply came back in under a minute.
*She's been asking about you since yesterday.
Wednesday is perfect.*
I set the phone down.
Thursday was Diane.
May you like
Wednesday was Lily.
Wednesday felt more important.
