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The greeting seems to be aimed at me, since my guide doesn’t respond.
“Hi,” I say.
“This is CassiaNolan.” The woman I’m with heavily emphasizes my last name.
I get the strong impression these are thework colleaguesmy mom was referring to. At the very least, my family has been a topic of conversation between these women.
“Oh. It’s so nice to meet you, Cassia. I’m Elena. I work with your father.” Her smile grows. “You look just like him.”
I’m not a fan of Elena’s familiar tone. The way she’s talking about my father feeds all the suspicions swirling in my gut.
“That’s funny,” I say. “Most people tell me I look just like mymom.”
Elena’s smile quickly disappears.
“Cassia?”
I glance toward the doorway where my dad has appeared.
“Hi, Dad. Can we talk?”
I don’t wait for an invitation. I walk away from the two women I’m standing with without so much as a glance, walking past my dad and into his corner office.
“I—um, sure.” His tone is unsure behind me.
There’s the low hum of a few words being exchanged, then his door closes.
I approach the huge bookcase that spans most of one wall, my fingers trailing across the embossed spines of the law books. His diplomas hang on the wall next to the bookcase.
I take a seat in one of the two chairs opposite the desk, glancing at the framed photo next to his computer. It’s from two summers ago, when we rented a beach house on Nantucket. Me and my siblings are all piled on the porch swing, sandy and sun-burned. Sally is in my lap, the twins perched on the two arms pretending to be pirates.
It’s the only photo in here. I’m not sure if that’s always been the case or not.
“You were rude to Elena,” he says.
It’s about the worst possible thing he could say. My anger grows, burning hotter and brighter.
“Just being honest.” I cross my arms. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”
The stern expression he aimed at my siblings a lot more than he ever aimed at me appears. “I didn’t raise you to be rude, Cassia.”
“Are you going to stick around toraisethe rest of your kids after the divorce?”
My dad sighs. “Your mother spoke to you.” He shakes his head. “We were going to tell you kids together.”
“Don’t blame Mom for this.”
“For sharing something with you that we agreed to tell you together? Who should I blame for that, Cassia?”
“You weren’t home to tell anyone anything. You’reneverhome.”
My dad points to a high stack of papers piled on his desk. “See that? That’s what I have to get through before I leave for the day. Tomorrow there will be a new stack twice that size.”
“You have an important job, Dad. I get it. Don’t patronize me like I’m a little kid.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
“Being the president is also an important job. I bet she eats dinner with her family more than twice a month.”
