"She's seven," Malcolm said. "Second grade. She's She's the funniest person I know, honestly. She has these very specific opinions about things. Breakfast cereals, cloud formations, the right way to fold a blanket.
Diane laughed, delighted. She sounds like Vanessa at that age. Vanessa turned to look at her mother. I was nothing like that. You had very specific opinions about everything from the time you could form sentences, sweetheart.
That's completely different. Vanessa at 7 refused to eat any vegetable that was green because she said green was nature showing off. Diane told Malcolm this with the serene authority of a woman who had been waiting years for someone to tell it to. Malcolm looked at Vanessa. Vanessa looked at her plate.
That is not an accurate representation, she said. I have witnesses, her mother said pleasantly and refilled her wine glass. Malcolm looked back at Diane. Lily went through a phase where she wouldn't drink orange juice because she decided the color orange was too enthusiastic. Diane pressed a hand to her chest.
These children, she came around eventually. Took about 3 months in a detailed negotiation. You negotiated with a six-year-old about orange juice. She made good points. Malcolm said, "You have to respect the argument even when you're going to win anyway."
Diane was looking at him with an expression he recognized from Vanessa's descriptions. The warm particular focus of a woman who had made up her mind about something and was now simply verifying. "You raised her alone," she said. It wasn't quite a question. "Yes, ma'am, since she was three."
Her mother passed away four years ago, a shift around that section of the table. Robert, who had been half engaged in a conversation to his left, turned fully. Clare, who Malcolm was beginning to understand, missed nothing, went quiet. "I'm so sorry," Diane said. "She said it simply without performance.
The way people say it when they actually are." "Thank you," Malcolm said. "You've done it alone." 4 years. "I had help, my mother.
Good people around us. But the daily part," Diane pressed gently. Not cruelly, with the focused compassion of a woman who understood what daily meant. The waking up in the morning part, the making of the breakfast and the driving and the homework. Yes, Malcolm said.
That part was mostly just us. The table had gotten quieter. He hadn't meant for that. He glanced at Vanessa and found her watching him with an expression he hadn't seen on her yet. Open in a way that the CEO version of her never was like something had come loose behind her eyes.