“No, you’re right. But I do know what it is to lose my husband and still wake up every morning because a little girl needs her mother.”
She looked away.
I stepped closer. “Did you tell Olivia her father was coming back?”
“I told her he was with us.”
“You don’t know what it is to lose a son.”
“Did you tell her he might not recognize her if she cut her hair?”
Patty’s jaw tightened.
“Answer me.”
“She looks like him!” Patty snapped. “Every time I see her, I see him. And you keep changing everything.”
“She’s four. She’s supposed to change.”
“It’s easy for you to say. You have his home, his money, and his child.”
“Answer me.”
And there it was, the ugly truth sitting between us.
“My husband left our home to us,” I said. “And he left money for Olivia’s future.”
“His family should have a say.”
“His family doesn’t get to scare my daughter into staying little.”
Patty’s eyes filled. “She’s all I have left.”
For half a second, I hurt for my mother-in-law.
Then I heard my daughter’s voice in my head: “Daddy might not pick me.”
“Olivia isn’t a memorial,” I said. “She’s a child.”
“His family should have a say.”
***
Three days later, the legal papers arrived.
Patty was petitioning for expanded visitation and requesting a review of Olivia’s trust, using the fear she had planted in my daughter as proof that I was unstable. She claimed I was erasing William and making Olivia believe her father would forget her.
I read that line twice.
Then I called Clara.
“Can you write down what happened at the salon? Please. Patty is after… everything.”
I read that line twice.
