Chapter 2 - THE FIRST ADULT WHO DIDN’T TAKE THE BAIT
“Don’t run beside a swimming pool,” Sophie said.
Mason nodded.
“Good rule.”
“Because you can slip.”
“Correct.”
“And don’t stick forks in outlets.”
“Excellent.”
“Also don’t marry somebody who hates dogs.”
Mason paused beneath the cabinet.
“That one feels personal.”
Sophie shoveled cereal into her mouth.
“My dad liked dogs.”
The sentence changed the room.
Evelyn stood unnoticed in the doorway.
Mason did not ask what happened to Sophie’s father.
He simply said, “Smart man.”
Sophie looked down.
“He was.”
Evelyn’s chest tightened.
Thomas Hart had been dead fourteen months.
Nobody in the house said his name anymore unless absolutely necessary.
Not because Evelyn had ordered it.
Because every conversation involving Thomas eventually ended with Sophie shutting down or exploding.
On the anniversary of his death, Sophie had smashed a framed family photograph against the wall.
When Evelyn tried to hold her, Sophie screamed:
“You didn’t even cry!”
Evelyn had.
Just never where Sophie could see.
Now Mason moved from beneath the cabinet and noticed his employer.
“Ms. Hart.”
Sophie’s spoon stopped.
“You’re home early.”
It was almost midnight.
Evelyn heard the accusation anyway.
“I finished sooner than expected.”
Sophie shrugged.
“You always say that.”
“I do not.”
“You say, ‘I’ll try to be home by dinner.’ Then Walter puts your plate in the fridge.”
Mason quietly began packing his supplies.
Evelyn noticed.
“You can finish.”
“I’m done.”
He understood this was not his conversation.
Sophie understood something else.
Adults who sensed conflict usually disappeared.
Her expression hardened.
“You didn’t clean the pantry.”
Mason looked toward it.
“You’re right.”
“So you’re leaving work unfinished.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“No.”
Sophie slid off the island.
“You have to do it now.”
“Sophie,” Evelyn warned.
The girl ignored her.
“I could tell Mom you’re lazy.”
Mason looked at her.
“You could.”
“And she could fire you.”
“She could.”
Sophie’s voice rose.
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
Mason considered.
“Getting fired would be inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?”
“My rent would prefer I keep the job.”
“Then clean the pantry.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“That’s enough.”
Mason lifted one hand.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Evelyn looked at Sophie.
“You do not threaten people’s jobs.”
“Why? You do.”
The words landed hard.
“I manage employees.”
“You fired Kevin.”
“He stole from the company.”
“You fired Mrs. Palmer.”
“She repeatedly left you unsupervised.”
“You fire everybody!”
“I do not.”
Sophie’s face reddened.
“Everybody leaves because of you!”
Silence.
Then Sophie’s eyes widened as if she had said too much.
She ran.
Evelyn called after her.
“Sophie!”
A door slammed upstairs.
Evelyn stood rigidly.
Mason picked up his tool bag.
“I should go.”
“Of course.”
The bitterness in her voice made him stop.
She looked away.
“Sorry.”
“You weren’t talking about me.”
“No.”
Mason hesitated.
“She’s not trying to control the house.”
Evelyn’s eyes snapped toward him.
“You’ve known my daughter two weeks.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve known her eight years.”
“I didn’t say I know her better.”
“It sounded like it.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
Evelyn folded her arms.
“Then what did you mean?”
Mason leaned against the counter.
“She keeps testing what makes people leave.”
“That’s called bad behavior.”
“Sometimes.”
“And sometimes?”
“It’s research.”
Evelyn frowned.
“She creates the worst version of herself she can think of, then waits to see how long people tolerate it.”
“That’s your professional opinion?”
“I’m a janitor.”
“Exactly.”
“And a father.”
That silenced her.
Mason continued carefully.
“My son did something similar after his mother died.”
Evelyn’s expression changed.
“He acted out?”
“Not like Sophie.”
“What did he do?”
“Stopped asking for things.”
“That sounds easier.”
“It wasn’t.”
Mason looked down.
“Noah decided needing people was dangerous. Sophie seems to have decided people leaving is inevitable.”
Evelyn’s defensive anger weakened.
“Her father died last year.”
“I guessed.”
“How?”
“She said he liked dogs like it was a fact from another lifetime.”
Evelyn swallowed.
Mason did not ask more.
That restraint made her continue.
“Thomas and I were separated.”
Mason stayed quiet.
“We weren’t divorced. Not officially.”
She stared toward the staircase.
“We fought constantly during the last year.”
“About Sophie?”
“About everything.”
Her company.
His career.
Money.
Time.
Custody.
The final word hung there.
“Sophie heard more than she should have.”
Mason nodded slowly.
“The night Thomas died, he had taken Sophie to dinner.”
Evelyn stopped.
Her face closed.
“That’s enough personal history for one evening.”
Mason accepted the boundary.
“Understood.”
He headed toward the hall.
“Mason.”
He turned.
Evelyn looked almost embarrassed.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not telling me how to raise my daughter.”
He smiled faintly.
“I like having a job.”
That almost made her laugh.
Almost.
The next afternoon, Mason returned to find Sophie waiting beside the utility room.
“You told her.”
“Told who what?”
“My mom.”
“About what?”
“That I’m scared people leave.”
Mason unlocked the closet.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said I test people.”
“That’s different.”
“You think I’m scared.”
Mason looked at her.
“I think most angry people are scared of something.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.”
She hated that answer.
“You’re supposed to argue.”
“Why?”
“So I can prove you’re wrong.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
She followed him into the hallway.
“Why didn’t Noah come with you?”
Mason paused.
“How do you know his name?”
“I heard you talking to Walter.”
“He’s at after-school care.”
“Does he know you clean houses?”
“Yes.”
“Is he embarrassed?”
“No.”
Sophie seemed disappointed.
“Why not?”
“Because clean floors are useful.”
“My mom could buy you a better job.”
Mason’s expression shifted.
“I don’t need your mother to buy me anything.”
“She buys everybody.”
“That’s probably not true.”
“She bought Dad a restaurant.”
Mason froze.
Sophie’s eyes changed.
“I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“Then don’t tell me more.”
She stared at him.
“You don’t want to know?”
“If it’s your family’s private business, no.”
Another test failed.
She looked almost frustrated.
Then:
“My dad hated the restaurant.”
Mason said nothing.
“He said Mom thought money fixed everything.”
Still nothing.
“He said she loved work more than us.”
Mason finally crouched.
“Sophie.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to make me dislike your mother to make me stay on your side.”
The girl froze.
He continued.
“You’re allowed to love somebody and be angry at them at the same time.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m not angry.”
“Okay.”
“I hate her.”
Mason’s face remained calm.
Sophie’s voice broke.
“I hate Dad too.”
Then she ran upstairs.
That evening, Mason found something beneath the breakfast table.
A small silver key.
He almost handed it to Walter.
Then Sophie appeared.
Her face went white.
“Give me that.”
Mason held it out.
She snatched it.
“What does it open?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
She shoved it into her pocket.
Mason turned away.
Then heard the tiniest whisper.
“It opens Dad’s room.”
He looked back.
Sophie’s eyes were wet.
“My mom locked it after he died.”
Mason said nothing.
Sophie pressed the key into her fist.
“I go in sometimes.”
“Does your mother know?”
“No.”
“What do you do in there?”
Her chin trembled.
“Say sorry.”
Mason went still.
“For what?”
Sophie backed away.
“Nothing.”
“Sophie.”
Her face crumpled.
And before Mason could stop her, she ran toward the stairs.
The key slipped from her hand.
This time, when it hit the marble, a tiny metal tag attached to it flipped over.
Three words were engraved on the back.
THOMAS — HOME OFFICE.
Mason picked it up.
Then noticed something else.
A brown stain along the edge.
Old.
Dried.
May you like
And suddenly he understood that whatever Sophie was hiding about her father’s death was much bigger than a locked room.
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