Chapter 16
At ten, Charlotte asked the hardest question.
“Did Isabella pretend to be Mom?”
We had never framed it that way.
She pieced it together from older conversations.
I said:
“Sometimes she copied things your mother wrote because she wanted me to like her.”
Charlotte frowned.
“Did it work?”
“Yes.”
Children deserve uncomfortable truth proportionate to their age.
“Then you loved fake?”
“No.”
I thought carefully.
“I loved a real person who sometimes showed me things that weren’t really hers.”
She considered.
“That confusing.”
“Very.”
Then:
“Was Mom mad?”
“She never knew.”
“No. Letter Mom.”
Ah.
Would Eleanor have been angry?
I smiled.
“Probably.”
Charlotte laughed.
Then asked:
“Would she hate Isabella?”
I did not know.
So I said:
“I don’t know.”
Important phrase.
Powerful fathers should use it more.
Then Charlotte opened another Eleanor letter that evening.
Not one about Isabella.
Obviously.
One labeled:
WHEN YOU THINK YOUR FATHER KNOWS EVERYTHING.
Charlotte laughed before opening it.
Inside, Eleanor had written:
He does not.
That was the first line.
Charlotte laughed so hard she fell sideways.
I did too.
Then:
Make him admit it whenever necessary.
Eleanor still irritating me from the grave.
Good.
Alive in the correct way.
May you like
Not command.
Personality.
