Chapter 100 - A Window on the Next Morning
The first thing I saw when I opened the package from Vermont was a cardboard ticket with my name written across it in uneven blue letters.
CLAIRE — ONE RIDE.
Dorothy had tucked it inside a note from Leo. His latest train station had two entrances, a ramp large enough for a moose, and a tiny wooden bench that Adrian had helped him make. He wanted to know whether I could visit again before winter.
I read the note at my kitchen table beside the drawings for the bookstore's finished bathroom. For once, two parts of my life sat next to each other without fighting for control of the surface.
Elena came in carrying a bag of oranges.
“What's that?”
“A ticket.”
“To where?”
“I'm not entirely sure.”
She read Leo's letter over my shoulder, then returned it without comment. I was grateful. It would have been easy for her to say that I was becoming part of the Moretti family again, or that my child should know a cousin, or that I owed Leo something because I'd argued on his behalf. She left the decision where it belonged.
At noon Miriam called with a separate update. The independent co-trustee nominee had passed the initial conflict check. If the final documents were approved, Vanessa's control over day-to-day Trust B disbursements would end. Any disputed accounting issues would remain open for review.
“That sounds like a resolution,” I said.
“Of one part of the problem.”
I waited.
“Adrian's attorney has also sent the proposed co-parenting protocol. It's substantially more reasonable than the first draft.”
“Is that the nicest thing you've ever said about him?”
“Don't make me regret it.”
I laughed. Then she added, “There's a separate question in the packet. The Vermont child advocate wants to know whether you're willing to be listed as an approved adult contact for Leo during visits to New York. You are absolutely free to decline.”
The words settled over the table. An approved contact was not guardianship. It was not a trustee role or a promise to become a substitute mother. It meant that if Leo visited New York, I could be one of the adults his caretakers were allowed to call in ordinary circumstances, provided I agreed and the necessary checks were completed.
“Why me?” I asked.
“Because Leo has asked about you several times, and Dorothy says he's comfortable with you. They also understand you're pregnant and may not want an additional responsibility.”
I looked at the ticket.
All through the crisis I'd resisted decisions made about me without my consent. Now a decision was being offered in the proper way: with an explanation, a limit, and an actual possibility of saying no.
“Can I meet the advocate before I answer?”
“Of course.”
I wrote down three questions for that meeting. What would the role require? Who else would be responsible? How would we make sure Leo didn't interpret one visit as a promise I couldn't keep?
Then I put the ticket beside the train drawing on the refrigerator and called Dorothy.
“Tell Leo I'd like to visit when we can arrange it properly,” I said. “And tell him I kept my ticket.”
Dorothy's voice warmed. “He'll be happy to hear that.”
After we hung up, I crossed to the window. Down below, my Brooklyn street was moving through an ordinary afternoon: delivery vans, dog walkers, people carrying groceries and hurrying home. I could see the shape of my future in a way I hadn't been able to when Adrian first learned about the pregnancy.
It was not a penthouse. It was not an empire. It was a baby, a small architecture practice, a friend who knew where I kept the spare tea, and perhaps a boy in Vermont who wanted to show me a train station.
My phone chimed once more. A message from Adrian: Leo says the dinosaur has reserved your seat. No pressure.
I smiled at the last two words. He was learning how much they mattered.
I typed: Tell the dinosaur I'll confirm after talking to his advocate.
May you like
Then I turned back to my drawings. The next morning would bring appointments, invoices, and choices I couldn't yet predict. For the first time in a long while, the unknown did not feel like something Adrian would have to manage for me.
It felt like a life I was building.
