She looked out the window. “Maybe they should.”
At home, I slept for four hours while the children watched cartoons beside me. When I woke, there was a voicemail from Gregory.
I almost deleted it without listening.
Then I heard his first sentence.
“You should know the room was promised to Veronica before you even said you were coming.”
I sat up.
Gregory’s voice sounded strained.
He said that two weeks earlier, when Rosalind mentioned our holiday visit, he had offered to book a hotel for his family. Veronica refused. She wanted the guest room because Lily and Noah “slept badly in unfamiliar places.” Gregory suggested the cousins share. Veronica refused that too. Rosalind ended the conversation by saying, “Jacqueline won’t mind. She always adjusts.”
Gregory had not challenged her.
His voice dropped.
“I’m sorry. I should have.”
That apology hurt more than Veronica’s anger because it named the thing everyone else kept avoiding.
I called him back.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because Veronica told the family you arrived late and demanded the guest room after everyone was settled.”
“She knows that isn’t true.”
“I know.”
I rubbed my forehead.
He continued. “And because Madelyn heard Lily ask why she got the bed. Lily told her Grandma said your kids were used to roughing it because you work nights and travel a lot.”
My stomach turned.
“What?”
“I don’t think Lily understood what it meant.”
Of course she didn’t. She was eight.
Children are not born knowing which branch of a family is supposed to accept less. Adults teach them.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Jacqueline, I’m not asking you to forgive any of us.”
“That’s good.”
He let out a breath.
“I am going to talk to Veronica.”
“That’s between you and your wife.”
