Chapter 4
“It concerns money.”
Daniel’s words hung between them.
Outside the owner’s residence, the lodge carried on with its morning routine. A cart rattled along the corridor. Somewhere below, a child laughed. In Elaine’s sitting room, the fire burned low beneath the stone mantel, warming the space without making it feel any less exposed.
She folded her hands in her lap.
“Then tell me what you wanted to ask.”
Daniel rubbed his palms against his trousers. “I was going to ask if you might help us.”
“Help you how?”
“I don’t know. I thought we could talk about it.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He looked at her, then away. “We’ve been under pressure. I thought you might be willing to help us financially.”
Elaine let the silence stretch. She would not rush to soften an answer he had barely given.
“Did you want a loan?”
“I hadn’t worked out the details.”
“Did you want me to give you money?”
“I didn’t know what you’d be comfortable with.”
“So you came here hoping I’d offer something.”
“No.” He lifted his head quickly. “I mean—I hoped we could talk. I didn’t expect you to just hand me a check.”
“You invited me to Aspen and planned to discuss money after I arrived.”
His shoulders tightened. “I planned to bring it up when there was a good moment.”
“And you didn’t think it would be relevant to mention that before I agreed to come?”
“I was afraid you’d think the invitation was about money.”
Elaine studied his face. She saw his embarrassment, perhaps his fear. Neither told her what she needed to know.
“So you decided not to tell me.”
“Yes.”
“And you decided not to tell me I had no room.”
Daniel’s gaze dropped.
“I know.”
“Those are not separate decisions just because they were uncomfortable.”
“I know, Mom.”
“What did you think would happen when we got here?”
He took a breath. “I thought… I thought we’d figure something out.”
“You knew the reservation was for two adults and one child.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew I wasn’t included.”
“Yes.”
Elaine’s fingers pressed together. “Then you didn’t think we’d figure it out. You knew I’d be the one left to figure it out.”
He flinched. “I’m sorry.”
“I heard you say that yesterday.”
“I mean it.”
“I’m sure you do. But being sorry doesn’t tell me why you thought I should be put in that position.”
He had no ready answer. For a moment, he looked like the boy who used to bring her broken toys, waiting for her to mend them without asking how they’d broken. But he was forty-one now. The silence between them belonged to the man he had become.
“I was trying to keep things from getting worse,” he said at last.
“For whom?”
“For all of us.”
Elaine’s expression stayed still. “That sounds comforting. It also avoids the question.”
Daniel looked down again.
The door opened.
Madison stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. She glanced from Elaine to Daniel.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Elaine said.
Madison stepped inside anyway. “Daniel, Lily’s asking where you are.”
“Then tell her I’ll come see her in a minute.”
Madison’s eyes settled on Elaine. “We’re all trying to have a nice Christmas. This doesn’t have to turn into a trial.”
Elaine noticed how carefully Madison said this. Not the missing room. Not the lobby. Not the way Lily’s offer had been shut down.
“What would you call it?” Elaine asked. “I’m asking my son why he invited me here without telling me I had nowhere to sleep.”
“He has already apologized.”
“He has. I’m asking him to explain.”
Madison sighed as if the conversation were a tedious delay. “You have the owner’s residence now. The problem is solved.”
“The room is solved. The way I was treated is not.”
“Elaine, nobody left you out in the snow.”
“No. I was left to discover in front of strangers that my own son knew I had no reservation.”
Daniel shifted in his seat. “Madison—”
“We were here for a family Christmas,” Madison continued. “Not a discussion about the trust or who owns what.”
Elaine’s pulse quickened, but her voice stayed level.
“I didn’t bring up the trust. Marcus did, after I asked what the office could confirm. Daniel brought up money.”
Madison’s face changed for a fraction of a second before she looked toward her husband.
“You told her that?”
“He was answering my question,” Elaine said.
Madison’s jaw tightened. “This is exactly why I didn’t want—”
“Madison,” Daniel said.
She stopped. Elaine watched him, waiting to see whether he would finish the thought she had interrupted—or hide behind her again.
He rubbed his forehead. “I wanted Mom here.”
“Then why didn’t you make sure she had a room?” Elaine asked.
“I thought—”
“You thought what?”
“I thought we could talk. I thought if I explained what was going on, you might understand.”
“Understand what? That you were under pressure? Or that you thought my invitation could wait until you needed something?”
“That’s not fair.”
The words came out before he seemed to consider them.
Elaine went very still.
Daniel’s face tightened. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t take it back because you see I’m hurt. Tell me why it isn’t fair.”
He looked helplessly toward Madison. She crossed her arms.
“I wanted my mother here,” he said. “I wanted Lily to have her grandmother for Christmas. The money problem was part of what I hoped to talk about, but that doesn’t mean the invitation was a lie.”
“Did you tell me there was no room?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me you’d contacted the office about my shares?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me you hoped I might help you?”
“No.”
“Then you can call the invitation whatever you like. I experienced it as an invitation with important facts left out.”
Daniel’s eyes reddened. “I know I handled it badly.”
“You’re still telling me how you handled it. I’m asking you to look at what you did.”
For several seconds, none of them spoke. Then Elaine stood.
“I’m ending this conversation for now.”
“Mom, please.”
“You’ve had an opportunity to answer me. You chose to defend the invitation instead.”
“I wasn’t trying to defend—”
“You were. You may not have meant to hurt me. That doesn’t make the hurt imaginary.”
Daniel rose slowly. Madison reached for his sleeve.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Elaine moved to the doorway and held it open. Daniel paused as he passed her.
“I’ll come back when you’re ready.”
“Come back when you’re ready to be honest,” she said. “Not when you’re ready to ask again.”
He nodded, but she could not tell whether he understood the difference.
Madison followed him into the corridor. Elaine began to close the door, then stopped when she heard her daughter-in-law’s voice drop to a whisper.
“Daniel, don’t just walk away from this.”
Elaine kept one hand on the door.
“I’m not,” Daniel murmured.
May you like
Madison’s answer was softer still, meant for him alone.
“Elaine’s refusal could affect more than our Christmas plans.”
