Chapter 5 - Nathan Avery
Nathan Avery called me before I called him.
At 8:10 the next morning.
“Enzo Marcelli?”
“Yes.”
“This is Nathan Avery.”
“I know.”
He sounded tired.
“Simone’s attorney called mine last night.”
I looked across the kitchen.
Vivienne sat with Callie eating toast.
Neither spoke much.
“What did they tell you?”
“That Simone had some kind of emergency guardianship arrangement naming your wife.”
“Not an arrangement. A proposed nomination.”
A pause.
“You already have lawyers correcting nouns.”
“Because nouns matter.”
He exhaled.
“Fair.”
Then:
“Did you agree to take my daughter?”
“No.”
“Did your wife?”
“She agreed to be considered as a standby guardian if legally necessary.”
“Legally necessary while I’m alive?”
That was the question.
“I don’t know what Simone told her.”
“I do.”
Nathan’s voice hardened.
“She has spent three years acting like sobriety is something I’m temporarily pretending.”
“Were you sober when custody changed?”
“No.”
Direct.
“I deserved supervised contact for a while.”
“How long sober now?”
“Three years and four months.”
“Any violations?”
“No.”
“Treatment?”
“Still go to meetings. Therapy twice a month.”
“Job?”
“Civil engineer. Same firm eleven years.”
He was answering as if I were interviewing him for custody.
I stopped.
“You do not need to prove yourself to me.”
“Apparently I do to everyone else.”
Fair.
Nathan said his lawyer had never received notice of a standby guardianship request.
No court filing existed.
No emergency motion.
Simone had been preparing private documents.
That was not illegal by itself.
Parents make contingency plans.
The issue was what she expected them to accomplish.
“What did she tell you about surgery?”
Nathan asked.
“Valve repair.”
“She told me it was a minor procedure.”
“It isn’t minor.”
“I know now.”
Silence.
Then:
“Did she tell your daughter Iris might become her sister?”
I looked at Callie.
“No. Simone did.”
Nathan cursed quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do it.”
“No. But my daughter is inside whatever this is.”
His voice changed.
Less angry.
More afraid.
“Iris called me last night asking if she was moving to your house if her mom died.”
That sentence cut through everything.
Not because Simone expected to die.
Because an eight-year-old thought it was possible.
“What did you tell her?”
“That she has a father.”
Exactly.
Nathan continued:
“And that if her mother is sick, adults make a plan together.”
Also exactly.
I looked at Vivienne.
She heard enough from my side to understand.
“We need to meet,” Nathan said.
“Yes.”
“No Simone.”
“Yes.”
“Lawyers?”
“Yes.”
He almost laughed.
“You people really do everything with lawyers.”
“After last night, yes.”
“You know what? Fine.”
May you like
For the first time, I liked him.
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