Chapter 7: The Part Where They Try to Use the Baby
Three days later, Eleanor Sterling appeared in the hospital lobby.
I was in the NICU when the floor nurse came to tell me.
She said a woman had arrived at the front desk asking for me.
She had given her name as Eleanor Sterling.
She had not called ahead.
She was alone, no attorney.
I sat with that information for a moment.
"Tell her I'll be down in ten minutes," I said.
Eleanor was standing near the window when I found her.
She had dressed carefully.
Dark coat.
Hair done.
She looked like herself, which is to say she looked like a woman who had spent sixty years making sure she appeared in control of every room she entered.
She turned when she heard me.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
"Audrey."
"Eleanor."
"I wanted to see how you were."
"I'm well."
"And the baby?"
"She's doing well."
Eleanor nodded.
Her hands were clasped in front of her.
I noticed they were not entirely steady.
"I wanted to speak with you before things proceed further," she said.
"All right."
"What happened at the wedding—" She stopped.
Started again.
"I made a decision in a moment of poor judgment.
I want you to know that I did not intend for it to go as far as it did."
I looked at her.
"You locked me in a room while I was in premature labor."
"I know."
"You told me my baby had taken enough attention away from your daughter."
Eleanor's jaw tightened slightly, then released.
"I was under considerable stress."
"So was I."
"Yes." A pause.
"I understand that."
I waited.
"I am asking," Eleanor said, choosing her words with visible care, "that you consider the position this puts the family in.
Julian is the father of your child.
Whatever has happened between us, that child will grow up as a Sterling.
There are implications—"
"Her name," I said, "is not yet decided.
But it will not be Sterling."
Eleanor went still.
"Audrey—"
"She will have my name.
Or a name I choose for her.
That decision belongs to me."
"You cannot simply—"
"I can," I said.
"And I will."
Eleanor's composure shifted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
"I came here in good faith."
"You came here because your attorney told you that a cooperative posture with me might influence how the investigation proceeds." I kept my voice even.
"I am not part of the investigation, Eleanor.
I am the auditor who documented the evidence.
What happens next is not in my hands."
"Then whose hands is it in?"
"The attorney general's office.
The prosecutors.
The courts." I looked at her steadily.
"Not mine.
And not yours."
Eleanor looked at the window.
The lobby was quiet around us.
A family was coming through the front doors with balloons.
Someone's new baby.
Someone's good news.
"I have spent forty years building that estate," Eleanor said.
Her voice had changed.
Something underneath the control.
"Everything I did, I did for my family."
"I know you believe that."
"It's true."
"Eleanor." I waited until she looked at me.
"You locked a woman in premature labor in a bathroom so she wouldn't disrupt a wedding reception.
Whatever you believe about your reasons, that is what you did."
Her eyes were bright.
She did not apologize.
She turned and walked toward the exit.
At the door she stopped.
"She's a Sterling whether you like it or not," she said without turning around.
"Blood doesn't change because you're angry."
The door closed behind her.
I stood in the lobby for a moment.
Then I went back upstairs to my daughter, who was four days old and four pounds thirteen ounces and had absolutely no idea that her grandmother had just tried to use her as a negotiating position.
I sat beside the incubator and told her, quietly, that she was going to be fine.
May you like
That was not optimism.
That was a plan.
