With Little Marshmallows

Marco closed the library door without locking it.

I noticed. So did he.

"I'll be outside if you need anything," he said.

Lily waited until his footsteps stopped before whispering, "He has a walkie-talkie."

"I noticed that too."

"Do you think he catches robbers?"

"I think he would like us to stop discussing him through the door."

A small cough came from the hallway.

Lily smiled for the first time since the meeting.

Mrs. Russo arrived with cocoa, biscuits, and enough marshmallows to feed the entire preschool. She had run the Moretti household for twenty-seven years and ordinarily treated emergencies as inconvenient interruptions to lunch.

Today her hands trembled as she set down the tray.

"I should never have left her."

"You answered a door. Please don't make this your fault."

Lily climbed onto the sofa with Button.

I sat beside her.

"Sweetheart, I need to understand how you found that paper."

She turned the rabbit so his stitched nose faced me.

"Button fell behind the chair in the blue room."

"Were you playing there?"

"I was showing him the shiny horses."

The Bellinis' sitting room had two silver horse figurines on the mantel. Arthur had been staying in the guest suite while the agreement was negotiated.

"Then what happened?"

"I went behind the chair. The man came in with the doctor. They didn't see me."

My chest tightened.

"Did you stay there?"

"They were talking loud. I thought I'd get in trouble."

I pulled her closer.

"What do you remember them saying?"

She frowned with the effort of remembering.

"The doctor said there wasn't a baby. The other man said the paper had to say yes. Then he said Mr. Moretti would sign."

Mrs. Russo looked away.

"And the paper?" I asked.

"It was by the little bin. Button's ear got wet. I used it to dry him."

A faint tea stain had marked one corner of the report. I remembered it now.

"Why did you take it into the meeting?"

Lily looked down at her mug.

"Because the man had a pen. I didn't want him to sign the wrong thing."

There was no pride in her answer. She was trying to explain why everyone had become angry when she had tried to help.

I kissed the top of her head.

"Next time you hear something that scares you, come and find me. You don't have to fix it yourself."

"Even if you have the coffee tray?"

"Especially then."

An hour passed. Rain slid down the windows. Mrs. Russo put on a movie, and Lily gradually surrendered to the comforts of sugar and a blanket.

When Vincent came in, I stood so quickly the spoon fell from my saucer.

"You don't have to do that," he said.

I picked it up anyway.

"Has she finished with us?"

His brows drew together.

"Who?"

"Sophia. I assumed she would want us dismissed."

He looked at the sofa, where Lily was asleep against her rabbit.

"Sophia doesn't employ you."

"Her father seemed to think he could correct that."

"He was mistaken."

Mrs. Russo quietly gathered the empty plates and left us with the door ajar.

Vincent stood by the armchair rather than sit beside me.

"The report Lily found is genuine. Sophia authorized the clinic to send the original records to an independent physician. The clinic has confirmed them."

"And the other report?"

"Reed has admitted supplying it. He says he acted under pressure. His account is being put in writing."

"So she isn't pregnant."

His eyes went to the sleeping child.

"There is no pregnancy in the records. Sophia has agreed to an independent examination tomorrow. I won't let her be pronounced guilty by a roomful of guesses, but the agreement is suspended."

He said it evenly. The hand at his side was clenched.

I lowered my voice.

"I'm sorry."

He looked at me as though condolences were the last thing he had expected.

"Your daughter prevented a serious mistake."

"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

He glanced toward the windows.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then Lily shifted.

"Mommy?"

I went to her, but she was already sitting up, her hair escaping its ribbon.

"Is Mr. Moretti mad?"

Vincent crossed the room and crouched beside the sofa.

"I am angry about several things. None of them are you."

She considered that carefully.

"Even though I went in the meeting?"

"I would prefer you to knock next time."

"I did. Nobody heard."

"Then we need to work on our listening."

Her shoulders relaxed.

He noticed the layer of marshmallows floating in her half-finished mug.

"Was that enough?"

"Mrs. Russo said you asked."

"I did."

"You remembered."

It was a small accusation against every adult who had promised her something and forgotten.

Vincent seemed to hear it.

"Yes," he said. "I remembered."

By late afternoon, the rain had made getting home a miserable prospect. Vincent offered a guest room. I accepted because Lily had fallen asleep again and our apartment roof leaked above her bed.

I did not tell him the second part.

While Mrs. Russo found pajamas, I called my landlord and listened to him promise repairs he had promised twice before.

Vincent passed at the end of the corridor. I turned toward the wall, embarrassed by the thin sound of the man's voice through my phone.

He kept walking.

Later, a clean towel appeared outside our room. There were no questions attached.

At dinner, Lily demanded that her rabbit receive a napkin. Vincent, who had come into the breakfast room carrying a phone full of bad news, folded one with surprising concentration.

"Button doesn't eat soup," Lily told him.

"That simplifies the catering."

I laughed into my water glass.

He looked up at the sound. For a moment, the room felt unexpectedly private.

Then Marco appeared.

"Daniel is here. He says he needs to see you immediately."

Vincent stood.

"Would you finish your dinner?" he asked Lily.

She nodded, already dipping bread into her soup.

I followed him into the corridor because I needed to ask whether the guest room had a key. Instead I stopped at the open study door.

A younger man stood inside, rain darkening the shoulders of his coat.

Daniel Moretti threw a sheet of paper onto the desk.

"Tell me you don't believe this."

Vincent picked it up.

I saw the amount first.

Three million dollars.

Beneath it was a signature, elegant and unmistakably practiced.

DANIEL MORETTI.

Vincent looked at his brother.

"Then tell me why your name is on the payment."