Chapter 7 - Celeste's Version
Celeste asked to meet me three days after Theo came home from the hospital.
Julia and Theo stayed in a furnished apartment near Boston Children's for follow-up appointments.
Spencer took a separate hotel room.
I rented a small apartment two floors below Julia's.
Not because she asked me to.
Because I asked whether she wanted me nearby, and she said yes.
The difference mattered.
Celeste chose a coffee shop in Cambridge where nobody seemed interested in either of us.
She arrived without designer sunglasses, without the cream coat from the plane, without the brittle confidence I remembered.
She wore jeans and a navy sweater.
I hated myself a little for noticing the costume change.
Lawyers are trained to observe presentation.
Mothers are trained to judge women who hurt their sons.
I was trying not to be either of those people too quickly.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
"You said you had something Julia should know."
Celeste flinched.
"She won't talk to me."
"She does not owe you that."
"I know."
She wrapped both hands around her cup.
"Spencer told me he was separated last spring. He said they were keeping it private until Theo's medical situation stabilized."
"You told me that."
"There's more."
I waited.
"He said Julia knew about me."
I stared at her.
"He said she didn't like it, obviously, but that the marriage was over and they had agreed not to police each other's personal lives."
"And you believed that?"
The question came out sharper than I intended.
Celeste looked down.
"I wanted to."
That answer stopped me.
She continued.
"I met him at a conference in New York. He was funny. Tired. He talked about how hard it was to be the founder's son. How no accomplishment ever felt like his."
I almost interrupted.
I did not.
"He said Julia had built her own life and barely needed him. He made himself sound lonely."
"Maybe he was lonely."
Celeste looked up, surprised.
"You believe him?"
"Believing someone felt something does not mean believing what they did with that feeling was justified."
She nodded slowly.
"I should have asked more questions."
"Yes."
"I should have looked harder."
"Yes."
"You don't have to enjoy saying yes that much."
I almost smiled.
"I don't."
Celeste pulled her phone from her bag but did not hand it to me.
"I gave the police the messages they requested. My lawyer has the rest. There are things in them about the firm. About you."
"I don't need to see them."
She blinked.
"Really?"
"If they are relevant to the firm's review, your lawyer can provide them through proper channels."
"Spencer said you would want everything."
"Spencer thinks he knows me very well right now."
"Does he?"
I looked at my coffee.
"Better than I'd like. Worse than he thinks."
Celeste took a breath.
"He told me you built the firm after your husband left you with two children and no money."
I looked up.
"My husband did not leave me. He died when Spencer was eleven."
Her face changed.
"He said—"
"I know what you said."
Celeste pressed her lips together.
That revelation did not make Spencer a secret monster.
It made him something more painful.
A man who had edited his own history to fit the version of himself he wanted a woman to admire.
"Why would he say that?" she whispered.
I knew exactly why.
Because a dead father complicated the story.
Because a widowed mother who worked sixteen-hour days to keep a firm alive was harder to resent cleanly than an ambitious woman who chose work over family.
Because Spencer needed to be the neglected son without also being the loved one.
"Because the truth contains contradictions," I said. "People hate those when they're trying to sell themselves."
Celeste wiped at the condensation on her cup.
"I was awful on that plane."
"Yes."
"I didn't touch Theo."
"No."
"I didn't ask them to take him."
"No."
"But I kept pushing because I thought my status meant the rules should bend for me."
I said nothing.
"Spencer made that feel normal," she added.
There it was.
The invitation to move responsibility somewhere else.
"Spencer's influence does not erase your choice," I said.
Celeste stared at me.
Then nodded.
"I know."
That was the first moment I respected her.
Not liked her.
Not forgave her.
Respected the sentence.
She leaned back.
"I'm ending the relationship."
"That is between you and Spencer."
"I know. But there's one more thing."
I waited.
"Before the flight, he told me if there was any issue with my upgrade, I should use his name. He said Wayne Brennan had leverage with the airline because they wanted the firm account."
My jaw tightened.
"Did he tell you to threaten employees?"
"No."
"Did he tell you his name guaranteed a seat?"
"He said, 'They'll take care of you.'"
That sounded exactly like Spencer.
Worse, it sounded like me twenty years earlier.
I had said variations of that sentence to clients, friends, family.
Tell them you're with Wayne Brennan.
Use my name.
They'll take care of you.
I had meant access.
Courtesy.
A phone call returned.
I had never imagined it becoming a cudgel in an airplane aisle.
But tools do not always remain in the shape their makers intended.
"Did you tell the police that?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Good."
Celeste looked at me carefully.
"Are you going to fire him?"
I almost laughed.
"I don't run the firm."
"Come on."
"I founded it. That is not the same thing."
"Does Spencer know that?"
The question irritated me enough that I knew it mattered.
"He's learning."
When I returned to the apartment, Julia was sitting at the kitchen table feeding Theo blueberries one at a time.
He had arranged them in a line before eating them.
"How was she?" Julia asked.
"Ashamed. Defensive in places. More honest than I expected."
"Did she blame Spencer?"
"Some. I stopped her when it became too convenient."
Julia nodded.
"Thank you."
I sat across from her.
"He lied to her about his father."
Julia's hand stopped over the bowl.
"What do you mean?"
I told her.
She closed her eyes.
"Andrew would have hated that."
"Yes."
My late husband had adored Spencer.
He had also been the only person who could tell him, with complete affection, when he was full of himself.
I missed him suddenly so hard I could not breathe.
Theo pushed a blueberry toward me.
"Grandma."
I took it.
"Thank you."
He smiled.
Julia watched us.
"Spencer wants to come by tonight."
"What do you want?"
"I want him to see Theo. I don't want to talk about us."
"Then tell him that."
"I did."
"Good."
She smiled faintly.
"You really are trying something new."
"It's exhausting."
At seven, Spencer arrived carrying no gifts.
That was progress too.
He sat on the rug while Theo pushed a wooden car back and forth.
For twenty minutes, nobody discussed the airplane, Celeste, marriage, the firm, or lawyers.
Theo made engine noises.
Spencer made them back.
Then Theo stood, walked to the hall closet, and pointed at the door.
"Open."
Spencer opened it.
Theo looked inside.
"Open."
"It is open, buddy."
Theo touched the knob.
Then he looked at his father.
"No lock."
Spencer's face went still.
"No lock," he repeated.
Theo returned to his car.
Spencer remained kneeling beside the closet for several seconds.
May you like
That was the night I saw him understand that consequences were not only things adults wrote in reports.
Sometimes they were three words a child repeated beside an ordinary door.
