Her Money, His Pride

Chapter 20: The Woman in Red

Sophie’s painting remained on the drying rack all weekend.

On Monday morning, I placed it beside my desk before another child could damage it. The house leaned slightly to one side, the windows were different sizes, and the yellow door was far too large.

Mrs. Hayes, the art teacher, studied it during lunch.

“She understands color,” she said. “And she isn’t afraid to make choices.”

“That sounds like Sophie.”

“I’d like her in the Tuesday program.”

The invitation pleased me more than it should have. Sophie had spent months trying not to attract attention. Art gave her a way to be seen without forcing her to speak.

At dismissal, Daniel arrived with a woman I had never seen before.

She was tall, attractive, and comfortable beside him. Her red sweater stood out against his dark jacket, and when she touched his arm, he leaned closer to hear her.

A ridiculous pressure settled beneath my ribs.

Sophie ran from the classroom.

“Aunt Rachel!”

The pressure disappeared so quickly that I almost resented the child for making my reaction obvious.

Daniel looked at me.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

He had noticed.

“Victoria, this is Rachel,” he said. “Emma’s sister.”

Rachel hugged Sophie, then offered me her hand.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“Hopefully nothing alarming.”

“She says you and Daniel argue all the time.”

Daniel sighed. “Sophie has a flexible understanding of privacy.”

“It happens at school,” Sophie said.

I took her painting from my desk.

“Mrs. Hayes would like Sophie to join the after-school art program.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“You earned the invitation.”

Daniel examined the picture.

“You painted this?”

She nodded.

His expression softened with unmistakable pride.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

“The program meets every Tuesday until five thirty,” I explained. “There are twelve sessions.”

Daniel took the information sheet and read it.

“The fee is fine. The problem is pickup.”

“I can get her,” Rachel said.

“You work across town.”

“I can rearrange Tuesdays.”

Daniel shook his head. “You already help enough.”

The words were gentle, but final.

Sophie’s smile faded.

“I don’t have to go.”

Daniel crouched in front of her.

“We didn’t say that.”

“You have work.”

“And I own the company. The company does not own me.”

He looked at the schedule again.

“I’ll block Tuesday afternoons.”

Relief returned to Sophie’s face.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

The certainty in his voice made something inside me ache.

Julian had promised extravagant things. Trips, houses, a perfect wedding.

Daniel promised to be outside a classroom at five thirty.

Somehow, that seemed more valuable.

“There may be another option,” I said. “The school is considering adding supervised study time until six thirty. Several families requested it.”

Daniel stood.

“Is it confirmed?”

“Not yet. But I can ask Principal Collins.”

“I can manage the schedule.”

“I know. I’m not suggesting you can’t.”

His expression softened.

That distinction mattered to him.

Rachel took Sophie to wash the paint still trapped beneath her fingernails. Daniel remained near my desk.

“You thought Rachel was someone else,” he said.

“I had no reason to think anything.”

“You looked disappointed.”

“I did not.”

“Then relieved.”

“You are imagining things.”

His mouth curved.

I folded my arms.

“Even if I misunderstood, it would have been none of my concern.”

“Of course.”

The agreement sounded far too amused.

I reached for a stack of worksheets.

“You should go. Sophie is waiting.”

“She isn’t.”

Rachel and Sophie were visible through the doorway, discussing the painting with Nora.

Daniel lowered his voice.

“Would it have bothered you?”

I knew exactly what he was asking.

The honest answer arrived too quickly.

So I chose the safer one.

“You’re Sophie’s father. Your personal life could affect her.”

His smile vanished.

The distance returned so fast that I felt it physically.

“Right,” he said. “Professional concern.”

I should have corrected myself.

Instead, I nodded.

Daniel took the art program form.

“I’ll return this tomorrow.”

After he left, Nora entered and looked at me.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

She glanced toward the hallway.

“Whatever it was, you managed to turn almost into nothing very efficiently.”

I looked at Sophie’s painting.

The yellow door was still too large for the house.

Perhaps some openings were frightening because once they appeared, there was no way to pretend the wall had never changed.