“That Aurora and Ava being there makes my presence uncomfortable.”
“No.”
The word came sharply.
I stopped.
Linda said:
“Claire, Nathan told us you refuse to come.”
I gripped the counter.
“What?”
“He said the beach house made you uncomfortable because Aurora sometimes attends.”
I felt dizzy.
“He said what?”
“He told us you wanted separate family traditions.”
“That I wanted my children excluded?”
“No.”
Linda’s voice broke.
“He told us you didn’t want Sophie and Caleb around Ava because you thought it would confuse them.”
I sat down.
“That is a lie.”
“Oh God.”
“Linda.”
“I’m here.”
“I have never been invited.”
Her breathing changed.
“Never?”
“Not once.”
“Claire, we have asked Nathan every year.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Every year.”
She sounded like she might cry.
“I bought extra beach towels for Sophie when she was little.”
My eyes filled.
“We kept adding bedrooms when the family grew.”
“What do you mean adding bedrooms?”
“The rental changed years ago. There is space.”
“He told me there wasn’t.”
“No.”
“I was pregnant with Caleb the second summer he came.”
“I know.”
“We talked about whether you’d be comfortable traveling with a baby. Nathan said you wanted to stay home.”
My stomach twisted.
He had lied even then.
“Did you ever ask to speak to me?”
Linda became quiet.
Then:
“No.”
That mattered.
She continued:
“I should have.”
“Yes.”
“I believed my son.”
“So did I.”
We sat with that.
Two women eleven years apart in understanding because we both let Nathan speak for the other.
Then Linda said:
“Where are Sophie and Caleb?”
“Here.”
“Can I speak to them?”
“Not yet.”
“Of course.”
Her voice trembled.
“Claire, I need you to believe me. Thomas and I never wanted those children excluded.”
“Sophie thinks you don’t like her.”
Linda made a broken sound.
“No.”
“Caleb asked Nathan today why you never want him there.”
“Oh God.”
I closed my eyes.
“When Sophie was four, she slept holding a beach shovel because Nathan promised she’d go next year.”
Linda started crying.
I did not comfort her.
Not because I wanted punishment.
Because my daughter had been crying first.
“Come here,” Linda said.
“What?”
“Bring them.”
I looked at the phone.
“To the beach house.”
“Linda.”
“Please.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“I’m not driving them three hours so everyone can hug and pretend this was a misunderstanding.”
“You’re right.”
Her answer surprised me.
“What do you want?”
“I want the truth said in front of everyone.”
“Then come.”
She took a breath.
“And I’ll say it.”
I hung up.
Sophie stood in the doorway.
She had heard enough.
“So Grandma wanted us there?”
“Yes.”
Her face crumpled.
I expected relief.
Instead, she became angrier.
“So Dad did it.”
“Yes.”
“For eleven years.”
“Yes.”
Caleb appeared behind her.
“What happened?”
Sophie said:
“Dad lied.”
He looked at me.
“About Grandma?”
“About everyone.”
