Chapter 16
Violet waited another year.
Then chose.
Camille met her in the garden.
No Henry.
No me at the table.
I watched from a distance because Violet asked.
She carried Bunny.
Camille saw it.
No tears this time.
Better control.
Violet sat.
“Aunt Camille.”
“Hi.”
“Why lock me?”
No preamble.
Camille answered.
“Because I was afraid you would tell your dad what I was doing.”
“What doing?”
“Trying to control money that belonged to you and Henry.”
Violet frowned.
“That dumb.”
I almost laughed from twenty feet away.
Camille actually did.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to feel important.”
Violet thought.
“Dad says important people don’t have to say important.”
I had apparently said that.
Good line.
Camille nodded.
“He’s right.”
Then Violet asked:
“Do you still want my money?”
“No.”
“Bunny?”
“No.”
“Me?”
Camille froze.
This was the real question.
Not money.
Not locks.
Did you want me—or what being needed by me gave you?
Camille answered carefully.
“I want to know you.”
Violet waited.
“And if you don’t want that, I’ll still want good things for you.”
Better.
No ownership.
Violet nodded.
Then handed her a drawing.
Not forgiveness.
Just something she made.
Camille took it.
“Thank you.”
Meeting over.
Violet ran back to me.
“What do you think?”
I asked.
She shrugged.
“Maybe next month.”
Good.
May you like
Trust returning in teaspoons.
Not floods.
