“I guess.”
Mama went on, undeterred. “The house won’t be ready for a few months, so you’ll be staying in an apartment above a bookstore. Your father’s best friend owns it, and he told me you can choose any book you want. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“I’m not a good reader,” Margot said.
“Do you prefer math?” Mama asked. “Did you know I used to be a teacher?”
“I didn’t know you existed at all,” Margot said. “Until just now.”
The words gutted me. I’d imagined this moment a thousand ways, but never this—my daughter sitting behind me in silence, not knowing I’d spent years fighting to be right here.
I tightened my grip on the wheel. This was going to be hard. But she was finally here. And thank God for my mother.
By the time we reached Willet Cove, my shoulders ached from tension, a dull, grinding ache that had started somewhere around the city limits and refused to let go. I pulled into the lot behind the bookstore and shut off the engine. “We’re here.”
Margot looked at the old brick storefront with the narrow stairs leading up to the apartment and her face fell. Just slightly. But I saw it.
“It’s small,” I said quickly. “But it’s temporary. Just until our house is finished being renovated. I’m looking for a different rental though. Someplace with two bedrooms.”
“Where will I sleep?” Margot asked.
“In the bedroom,” I said, getting out of the car and opening her door. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She climbed out slowly, moving like someone walking toward something inevitable. I reached in to grab her suitcase, but the moment I set it down she took the handle, fast and possessive, as if daring me to try and carry it for her.
Mom shot me a look, shaking her head slightly. I knew the look.Give her space.
I led them upstairs, unlocking the apartment door. The space felt even smaller with three people inside, and kind of stuffy. I opened a window to let some fresh air in.
“This is the living room,” I said. “And the kitchen. Your room’s in there.”
I opened the door to show her the simple space—just a bed, one chair, a small dresser, and a single window overlooking the alley.
Margot stepped inside, eyes sweeping the room like she was trying to memorize her new cage. Her expression didn’t change. “It’s nice. Thank you.” Same polite tone, like she was commenting on a stranger’s house.
“Like I said, we won’t be here long. But your new room at the house is going to be super special. Our designer wants to get to know you so she can decorate it to your taste.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to unpack? Get settled? I could help.”
“I’ll do it myself, thank you.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need,” I said.
She went in and closed the door. Not slammed, just closed it firmly. But the message was clear. Leave me alone.
I stood in the hallway, staring at that closed door. Every instinct screamed to knock, to fix it, to make her smile—but I couldn’t even remember what her laugh sounded like anymore.
Mama came up behind me, steering me gently toward the kitchen. “Let her be. She needs some space.”
“She won’t even look at me,” I said.
“She’s scared,” Mama said softly. “She was just handed off to someone she doesn’t remember. Give her time.”
“How much time?” As if she would know the answer to that divine question.
“As much as she needs.” Mama squeezed my shoulder. “I’m going to run to the bakery and get us some sandwiches. We all need food.”
