Chapter 3
Margaret had been keeping records for seven weeks.
Not because she distrusted Cullen.
Because Cullen had stopped believing her.
The notebook contained dates of Mireya’s asthma symptoms.
Where they happened.
Who was present.
Whether the rescue inhaler was used.
On five occasions, Margaret had written the same note.
Tove says wait.
One entry included something worse.
Inhaler missing from pouch.
Found later in Tove’s bathroom drawer.
Cullen looked up.
“You never told me this.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“April ninth.”
Cullen remembered the argument.
Margaret had complained that Tove moved Mireya’s medication.
Tove had responded that Margaret was becoming forgetful.
Cullen had ended the discussion by saying both women needed to stop fighting over a three-year-old.
Margaret looked at him now.
“You made it sound like we were two women competing for control.”
Cullen said nothing.
“That made it very easy for her.”
The pharmacy receipt showed an unusually early replacement for one rescue inhaler.
Margaret had paid for it herself because Tove told staff the original had been misplaced.
The empty canister inside the plastic pouch was the missing one.
Margaret found it two weeks later inside a drawer in a guest bathroom rarely used by Mireya.
“How do you know Tove put it there?”
“I don’t.”
Margaret closed the notebook.
“That’s why I wrote things down instead of accusing her.”
Cullen felt the rebuke.
His mother had acted more carefully than he had.
Then he opened the printed emails.
They were from Tove to Mireya’s preschool director.
Cullen had been copied on none of them.
Tove described Margaret as “overstimulating Mireya whenever minor breathing discomfort occurs.”
Another email asked staff not to contact Margaret first if Mireya complained about breathing.
The third requested that Tove be treated as the primary household contact once she married Cullen.
Cullen read that sentence twice.
They were not married.
Tove had already been reorganizing access around his daughter as though they were.
Margaret stood.
“I’m going home.”
Cullen looked up.
“You live here.”
“No.”
She picked up her handbag.
“I’ve been staying here because I thought Mireya needed me.”
Margaret looked toward the hallway where her granddaughter was sleeping.
“Tonight proved I was right.”
May you like
Then she looked at Cullen.
“But it also proved she needs a father who notices things before they become emergencies.”
