Amelia looked relieved.
Then she whispered:
“Can I have dinner?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Of all the questions.
That one.
“Yes.”
“On the floor?”
His eyes opened.
“No.”
Amelia flinched.
Daniel immediately softened.
“No, sweetheart.”
He stood.
“You can eat at the table.”
She looked toward the dining room.
Her body became tense.
“I’m not hungry.”
Daniel understood.
He did something that would later become one of the most important memories of Amelia’s childhood.
He did not force her back to the table in the name of correcting what happened.
Instead, he picked up her green tray.
Carried it into the living room.
Sat on the rug.
Amelia watched.
“What are you doing?”
“Having dinner.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“That’s silly.”
“Probably.”
Noah appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
He saw Daniel sitting on the floor.
Then Amelia.
He understood.
Without a word, Noah picked up his own plate from the dining table.
Sat beside his father.
Sunny immediately moved between them.
Noah pushed him gently away.
“You already ate.”
Sunny stared.
Noah sighed.
“Fine.”
He gave the dog one small piece of garlic bread.
Daniel pretended not to see.
Amelia sat.
Not beside the dog bowl.
Beside her father.
They ate on the floor together.
Nobody told her where family was allowed to sit.
The next morning Daniel called three people before eight.
First, his attorney.
Second, Amelia’s therapist.
Third, Melissa Grant, the nanny Margaret claimed had quit.
Melissa answered on the second ring.
“Daniel?”
Her voice sounded cautious.
“Hi.”
A pause.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“I know.”
Daniel looked across the kitchen.
Noah was making pancakes.
Amelia was sitting on the counter, stirring batter with dangerous enthusiasm.
Daniel stepped into his office.
“Melissa, did you quit?”
Silence.
Then:
“Is your mother there?”
“No.”
“Is Amelia?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Is she okay?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
That question answered enough.
“No.”
Melissa became quiet.
Daniel continued:
“I came home yesterday.”
“Oh.”
“I found her eating on the floor.”
Melissa exhaled.
“God.”
“You knew.”
“I suspected it got worse.”
Daniel sat.
“Tell me.”
Melissa had worked for the family for four years.
She began before Laura died.
After the funeral, she became one of the people holding the house together.
She knew Amelia’s bedtime fears.
Noah’s allergies.
Daniel’s travel calendar.
When Margaret moved in, Melissa initially welcomed the help.
Then rules changed.
Margaret said children should not snack after four.
Fine.
More chores.
Fine.
No devices during dinner.
Good.
Then Amelia’s rules became different.
Amelia had to ask before using the refrigerator.
Noah did not.
Amelia had to finish every bite.
Noah did not.
If Amelia cried at night, Margaret told Melissa not to comfort her immediately.