Chapter 2 - The RecordingI remember the ticking clock.
That sounds strange considering there were fourteen people inside Eleanor’s living room, Christmas music playing from the speakers, children near the tree, candles burning on the mantel, and a turkey roasting in the kitchen.
But after Emma spoke, all I heard was the clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Eleanor stared at my daughter.
“What did you say?”
Emma’s hands trembled, but she didn’t lower the phone.
“You heard me.”
“Emma,” Daniel said quietly. “What recording?”
Emma looked at him, and immediately I knew this wasn’t something she had planned to reveal.
She looked terrified.
Not of being caught lying.
Of telling the truth.
“I wasn’t spying,” she whispered.
“You’re not in trouble,” I said.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I went upstairs because my tablet was almost dead. Grandma told me there was a charger in the guest room. I couldn’t find it, and then I heard Grandma and Aunt Melissa talking in the hallway.”
Melissa stood abruptly.
“Emma—”
Eleanor snapped, “She misunderstood.”
Emma flinched.
Daniel’s voice changed.
“Mom. Stop talking.”
That silenced even Eleanor.
Daniel crouched in front of Emma.
“Can you show me?”
Emma looked at Melissa.
My sister-in-law seemed physically sick.
Then Emma unlocked her phone.
“I started recording because Grandma said Sophie’s name.”
She pressed play.
At first there was only muffled movement.
Then Eleanor’s voice.
Clear enough that nobody could pretend it belonged to someone else.
“…Rachel encourages it. Every little achievement becomes some grand event.”
Melissa answered, “Sophie won the spelling bee, Mom. She’s eight. Let her be proud.”
“That child needs to stop believing she’s special.”
I felt Sophie’s fingers tighten around mine.
On the recording, Melissa sighed.
“Why do you care so much?”
Then came Eleanor’s answer.
“Because Rachel uses those girls to control Daniel.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Melissa said, “That’s ridiculous.”
“You don’t understand your brother. He used to listen to me.”
“He got married, Mom.”
“He changed after Rachel.”
“He grew up.”
A chair scraped across the living-room floor.
Eleanor’s face had lost all color.
“Turn it off.”
Daniel didn’t even look at her.
“Keep playing.”
Then her recorded voice said the words that changed our family.
“If Rachel wants to keep challenging me, fine. I’ll make every family gathering miserable enough that eventually she’ll stop coming.”
Melissa’s response came immediately.
“Mom.”
“And if Sophie keeps being the easiest pressure point, that’s Rachel’s problem.”
My stomach turned.
Melissa whispered, “That is a child.”
“I’m not hurting her.”
“You constantly compare her to Ava.”
“So?”
“You ignored her birthday.”
“I sent a card.”
“You gave Ava a four-hundred-dollar dance costume two days later.”
“Ava needed it.”
“Mom, listen to yourself.”
Eleanor’s voice sharpened.
“I know exactly what I’m doing. Rachel is stubborn. But mothers protect their children. Push the right button enough times and she’ll eventually take those girls and stop coming here.”
“And Daniel?”
There was a pause.
“He’ll blame her eventually.”
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Sophie started crying.
Not loudly.
That made it worse.
I immediately knelt and pulled her against me.
Daniel stood slowly.
His face frightened me.
I had seen my husband angry before.
I had never seen him devastated.
He looked at his mother.
“You’ve been hurting my daughter on purpose so Rachel would stop coming here?”
Eleanor crossed her arms.
“That recording is completely out of context.”
Melissa laughed once.
It was a bitter, disbelieving sound.
“It’s not.”
Eleanor turned.
“Excuse me?”
“I was there.”
“You were arguing with me.”
“Yes, because what you were saying was disgusting.”
Eleanor’s husband, Robert, who had remained near the fireplace in stunned silence, finally spoke.
“Eleanor… how long?”
She looked at him.
“Oh, don’t you start.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to drive Rachel away.”
Eleanor threw up her hands.
“Nobody is trying to drive anybody away! I was frustrated.”
Emma’s voice came from behind me.
“You said you had a plan.”
Another silence.
Eleanor stared at her.
“What?”
Emma looked at her phone.
“You said more after Aunt Melissa went downstairs.”
Melissa frowned.
“I thought you were in the guest room.”
“I was.”
Emma looked at me apologetically.
“I forgot to stop recording.”
Daniel held out his hand.
Emma gave him the phone.
He scrolled.
The recording continued another four minutes.
Daniel pressed play.
We heard a door close.
Footsteps.
Then Eleanor talking to herself—or perhaps making a voice message.
“I’m done letting Rachel dictate this family. New Year’s will be different. If Daniel has any sense left, he’ll finally see what she’s doing.”
A pause.
Then:
“I already handled Sophie’s little competition. By January, Rachel will have something much bigger to worry about.”
Daniel froze.
I did too.
Eleanor lunged toward the phone.
Daniel stepped backward.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
“I said nothing.”
“What did you do to Sophie’s competition?”
Her eyes flickered.
Tiny movement.
But Daniel saw it.
So did I.
Sophie pulled away from me.
“What does she mean?”
I stared at Eleanor.
Two weeks earlier, Sophie’s principal had called me with strange news.
Sophie had originally been selected to represent her school at the district spelling bee.
Then, twenty-four hours later, the school said there had been an “administrative complication.”
The district spot was temporarily under review.
We hadn’t told Sophie yet because we were hoping it would be resolved.
I stood.
“Daniel.”
He looked at me.
I could barely speak.
“The district competition.”
His face changed.
“No.”
Eleanor’s expression told me everything before she opened her mouth.
Melissa stared at her mother.
“What did you do?”
Eleanor reached for her wineglass.
Her hand shook.
“I made one telephone call.”
Sophie whispered, “About me?”
Eleanor said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Daniel took Emma’s phone and slipped it into his pocket.
Then he looked at me.
“We’re leaving.”
For once, Eleanor didn’t try to stop us.
But as I helped Sophie put on her coat, Robert walked toward his wife.
“Who did you call?”
She kept staring at the floor.
“Eleanor.”
Finally she whispered a name.
May you like
“Superintendent Warren.”
And that was when I realized tearing up the certificate might have been the smallest thing she had done.
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