Page 6 of Jury Woman, Part 4 of 6

I wound it into a loose ball, tucked it into my bag, and folded my empty hands.

I didn't look at the defense table again for the rest of the day. But I felt Blackthorne there, like a draft from a door someone had left ajar.

October 6, Tuesday

JILL HAD a mug of chamomile waiting on the side table when Deputy Wells showed me in. It was a small courtesy, and it made me suspect she'd already heard about last week.

"I understand there was some excitement involving your daughter," she said once the door had closed. "How are you feeling about it?"

I wrapped both hands around the mug. "Lily did it on purpose. She wanted the judge to send me home."

"She told you that?"

"She told the detective. But she told me first, in her way." I could still see that smile, sly and pleased with itself, the same one Warren wore after talking a customer into the extended warranty.

Jill waited. When I didn't continue, she said, "And how does that make you feel?"

"Embarrassed. Everyone in the judge's chambers heard about my family's—"

"That's how you felt in chambers. I'm asking how you feel about Lily."

I set down the mug. "Manipulated. She wants me home because my being gone is inconvenient. Nobody's driving her to the mall. Nobody's washing her cheer uniform the night before a game."

"Is it possible she wants you home because she misses you?"

"She misses having everything done for her."

Jill tilted her head. "That's fairly normal for a sixteen-year-old. For most people, actually. Don't you like it when people do things for you, Isabel?"

A laugh escaped me, short and not particularly amused. "Sure I do. But nobody does." I gestured toward the window, toward the hotel and everything in it. "Here, someone cooks my meals. My laundry comes back folded. Somebody else makes my bed. This is the closest thing to a vacation I've had since before Josh was born."

"Whose fault is that?"

It took me a second to realize the question wasn't rhetorical. "Warren was always working. Sixty-hour weeks, weekend sales events. And between cheer and soccer and orthodontist appointments, there was never a window. Somebody always needed to be somewhere."

"Who kept track of everyone's schedule?"

"I did."

"So you knew exactly where every free weekend was." She said it gently, but she didn't blunt the point. "Of everyone in your household, you were in the best position to build in a vacation."

I opened my mouth to argue and found nothing to argue with. For seventeen years the calendar had hung beside the refrigerator in my handwriting, color-coded by child. I could have blocked out a week any time I wanted.

"I guess I was waiting," I said slowly. "For someone to notice I needed a break. For Warren to notice."

"Do you think that's fair?"

"A husband should notice when his wife is exhausted."

"I didn't ask what a husband should do in theory. I asked about Warren." Her pen rested motionless on her notepad. "Is he the kind of man who would notice?"

I thought of the Vietnamese restaurant, and the review that hung under the refrigerator magnet until it yellowed and curled.

"No," I said. "He never was."

The room went quiet except for the tick of the wall clock. My tea had gone lukewarm. I drank it anyway, for something to do with my hands.

Jill made a short note. "Here's something for your journal this week. Write about why you don't ask for what you want. Not whether you deserve it. Not whether someone else should have figured it out. Just why you don't ask."