Page 109 of Old Money

She shoots me a look like a poison arrow.

“You aren’t though, are you? You’re not children anymore. But it’s taking you so goddamn long to grow up.”

I straighten up. I’m not here for a scolding.

“What else did he say?”

“What else? Nothing. He just wanted to atone.”

“And that took twenty minutes?”

Aunt Barbara freezes. Then her eyes start darting left and right in cartoonish confusion.

“Did it, Alice?” She scoffs. “It sounds like you might know better. I wasn’t watching the clock.”

“I do know better. I think he confessed to you.”

It’s the only thing that makes sense. I knew it, Jeremy knew it, and looking at Barbara, I can see she knows it, too. What else would keep her on the phone that long?

“I think he did feel guilty,” I continue, my voice steadying. “Like you said. I think it got overwhelming. With the wedding, yes—but also the anniversary, and all the press this year.”

And me, of course. Nosing around. Getting close to something.

“I think he wanted to unburden himself, and he used you to do it,” I finish.

Aunt Barbara sits in bewildered stillness.

“I would tell you how ridiculous that sounds, but I don’t think there’s much point.”

She shakes her head, both weary and disturbed.

“ ‘Confession’—my God,” she mutters, looking past me. “If he’d confessed toanything, he’d be in handcuffs by now, or dead. Dead if I had my way.”

Her eyes drift back to me, that leery look on her face again—like she’s wavering on something.

“Well.” Her expression snaps shut again. “Time to go, I think.”

She unfolds from the couch in one swift motion. She’s done with this, and with me.

“No, I—”

But she’s halfway down the hall already. I rise, obedient, and follow.

At the front door, Barbara folds her arms.

“No need for niceties.” She steps back to let me pass. “Off you go.”

I wish it didn’t sting so much—this frigid goodbye. I wish a lot of things.

“Bye.” I step out onto the stone landing, letting the door swing shut behind me.

She catches it.

“Alice.”

I stop short and look back.

“It really doesn’t matter,” she says in a husky, tremulous voice. “All right? Do you understand?”