Chapter 3
I took Hazel inside.
Not to question her.
To feed her.
Children say more when adults stop treating every sentence like testimony.
She sat on the sofa with apple slices and refused to let the tennis-club attendant leave.
“Cora stays.”
“Okay.”
No argument.
Cora sat beside her.
I crouched in front of Hazel.
“Does Evelyn make you play tennis every time I’m in meetings?”
Hazel shook her head.
“Not tennis.”
“What then?”
“Strong game.”
My hands tightened against my knees.
“What are the rules?”
Hazel held up one finger.
“No crying.”
Second finger.
“No Daddy.”
Third.
“No Grandma.”
My expression changed.
My mother had been dead for two years.
Hazel still talked about her often.
“What does Grandma have to do with it?”
Hazel looked down.
“Evelyn says Grandma made me baby.”
That was strange.
My mother adored Hazel.
Maybe too much.
But she had died before I met Evelyn.
So why was my fiancée competing with a dead woman?
Cora spoke quietly.
“Evelyn removed Mrs. Lockwood’s photograph from the nursery last month.”
I turned.
“What?”
“She said you approved it.”
Of course.
Again.
Borrow my name.
Then Cora added:
“She also told staff to stop talking about Hazel’s mother.”
My chest tightened.
Hazel’s mother, Elena, had died when Hazel was one.
Two dead women.
Both erased.
I looked at Evelyn through the glass doors.
That was no longer about discipline.
It was replacement.
May you like
She did not want to join Hazel’s family.
She wanted the old one removed until nothing existed before her.
