Chapter 5 - A Key Made Without Asking
"Where did you get that?" I asked as soon as I got out of the car.
Linda looked down at the key. "Sweetheart, don't start. Daniel made me a copy."
I turned to my husband. He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"You gave her a key after I said no?"
"For emergencies," he muttered.
"Name one emergency."
Linda stepped aside like she was welcoming us to her house. "The guest room is ready. I washed the sheets. And I fixed the nursery."
"You what?"
I pushed past her. The entryway smelled of furniture polish, not the lavender candle I'd burned that morning. A stack of cardboard boxes sat by the stairs. My own framed photographs had been moved from the hall table to the floor.
Upstairs, the nursery wasn't mine anymore.
I'd spent weeks choosing soft green walls and a simple wooden crib. Linda had covered one wall in pink decals, replaced my curtains with ruffled white ones, and moved my mother's rocking chair into the corner behind a mountain of stuffed animals.
On the door hung a sign: GRANDMA'S LITTLE PRINCESS.
"I thought you'd love it," she said behind me.
"You went into our house and changed our baby's room while I was in the hospital."
"A little gratitude wouldn't kill you."
I looked at Daniel. "Tell her to leave."
"Em, you're exhausted. Let's talk first."
"We have talked. You just don't listen."
I reached for my mother's rocking chair, needing something familiar. That was when I noticed a tiny black square clipped high on the shelf, its red light blinking.
"What's that?"
Daniel followed my gaze. His expression changed.
Linda said, "It's a baby monitor. For safety."
"The baby's not here."
She reached toward it, but I got there first. I tilted the device. It wasn't pointing at the crib.
May you like
It was pointing at the doorway, exactly where I was standing.
And its little red light was on.
