“This?”
He gestured toward the kitchen.
“This is what you choose?”
Eliza's face changed.
“What do you mean?”
“A cattle ranch.”
“A boy who isn't yours.”
“A husband who—”
He looked at Grant.
Then at Eliza's body.
The pause contained everything.
Grant went cold.
Eliza heard it too.
“Say it.”
Augustus sighed.
“Your husband is being kind now.”
Eliza's hands curled.
“And?”
“You know how men become after novelty fades.”
Grant almost spoke.
Stopped himself.
Eliza said:
“You mean after he notices my body?”
Augustus looked uncomfortable.
“You have always struggled with discipline.”
Grant's control nearly broke.
Eliza laughed.
“Food.”
“Yes.”
“Say the word.”
“Appetite.”
“There.”
She turned toward Grant.
“My father thinks hunger is a character defect.”
Augustus snapped:
“I tried to protect your health.”
“You made me serve dinner while everyone ate.”
“You were gaining weight rapidly.”
“I was sixteen.”
“You ate when anxious.”
“I was grieving Mother.”
Silence.
Augustus's face changed.
Only slightly.
Eliza continued.
“We had five pantries.”
“Two cooks.”
“Fresh fruit in winter.”
“And I ate burned potatoes after guests left.”
Grant stared at Augustus.
The man looked away.
That was the moment Grant fully understood.
Not discipline.
Not old-fashioned parenting.
Humiliation.
Systematic.
Deliberate.
Eliza stepped closer to her father.
“I spent years thinking hunger was something I did wrong.”
Her voice shook.
“Then I came here.”
“On my first night, I asked Grant for scraps.”
Augustus closed his eyes.
Perhaps shame.
Perhaps irritation.
Eliza continued.
“He gave me his plate.”
“Samuel gave me his.”
“And nobody asked what I weighed first.”
Augustus whispered:
“I thought I was helping you.”
Eliza's expression softened for one dangerous second.
Grant knew that was the worst part.
She wanted to believe him.
Augustus continued.
“Your mother indulged every appetite.”
“She would have let you—”
“Mother loved me.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
Eliza stared.
Then shook her head.
“Maybe.”
Augustus looked hurt.
Good.
Some pain belonged where it was earned.
Eliza continued:
“But love isn't permission to make someone afraid of supper.”
Augustus had no answer.
He put on his gloves.
“I will have my attorney contact you.”
“My attorney.”
He looked at her.
Eliza smiled faintly.
“I'll find one.”
Augustus walked toward the door.
Grant stayed still.
At the threshold, Augustus turned.
“Red Willow cannot offer the life you were raised for.”
Eliza looked around the kitchen.
“Good.”
He left.
The carriage disappeared into snow.
Only after it was gone did Eliza begin shaking.
Grant stayed across the room.
“Can I come closer?”
She looked at him.