PART 2: THE SIGNATURE HE COULDN’T EXPLAIN
“Then tell her I called,” Roland said.
“I’ll make sure she receives the message,” Gregory replied.
The line went dead.
For several seconds, Roland stood in our kitchen staring at his phone.
His mother was the first to speak.
“What does Caldwell mean?”
“It’s her maiden name,” Roland said.
Faye slowly lowered her wineglass.
“Not that Caldwell.”
Roland looked at her. “What are you talking about?”
“The Escalade. The driver. The house on Peachtree Road.” Faye swallowed. “That’s the Caldwell family.”
His mother frowned. “Am I supposed to know who they are?”
Faye turned toward her.
“Caldwell Development owns half the commercial property downtown. Their foundation funded the new children’s wing at St. Matthew’s Hospital.”
The room became quiet.
Roland had once told me that my father seemed like a lonely old man with too much time on his hands.
He had met Dad twice.
The first time was at our wedding, when Roland shook his hand for less than thirty seconds before leaving to take photographs with his friends.
The second time was after my mother’s funeral, when Dad asked Roland whether I was eating and sleeping.
Roland had laughed later.
“Your father worries too much.”
He had never asked what my father did.
He had never asked why my parents’ names were engraved on the hospital wall.
He had never asked why I refused to change my name legally after we married.
He had simply introduced me as Simone Tran and expected the rest of the world to follow his lead.
“What did she tell you about her family?” Faye asked.
“That her father works in property.”
Faye stared at him.
“Roland, her father doesn’t work in property. He owns Caldwell Development.”
His mother recovered first.
“So she has money,” she said with a shrug. “That doesn’t give her permission to take Roland’s child and disappear.”
Roland glanced at my note on the island.
“She didn’t disappear. She told me where she was going.”
“She’s being dramatic,” his mother said. “You need to go over there and bring the baby home.”
Faye shook her head.
“You can’t just drive through those gates.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve attended charity events there. The security is tighter than most government buildings.”
Roland picked up his keys.
“He’s her father. I’m her husband.”
But when he reached for the front door, he remembered he had driven my car to dinner.
The car with Wren’s infant seat.
The car he had taken after telling me that I was too exhausted to leave the house.
His mother held out her hand.
“I’ll drive.”
At my father’s home, I was sitting in the nursery when Gregory knocked softly.
Wren had just finished eating.
She was wrapped in the yellow hospital blanket, her tiny fist resting beneath her chin.
“Mr. Tran called,” Gregory said.
“I heard my phone.”
“He asked where you were.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you and your daughter were resting.”
I looked down at Wren.
“Thank you.”
Gregory started to leave, then stopped.
“Your father is waiting in the library whenever you’re ready.”
I carried Wren downstairs.
Dad was standing beside the fireplace with his back to me.
He had changed since Mom died.
His shoulders seemed narrower, and there was more silver in his hair.
But when he turned and saw me holding his granddaughter, his face softened.
He crossed the room without speaking.
“Would you like to hold her?” I asked.
He nodded.
Dad had negotiated contracts worth hundreds of millions of dollars without blinking, but his hands trembled as I placed Wren in his arms.
“She has your mother’s nose,” he whispered.
That was when I began to cry.
Not the quiet tears I had hidden from Roland during the nights when Wren wouldn’t sleep.
Not the frustrated tears I wiped away before anyone could see them.
I cried like a daughter who had spent three years defending a marriage that had slowly taught her to apologize for needing anything.
Dad sat beside me and waited.
When I finally stopped, he handed me a handkerchief.
“Do you want me to call an attorney?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to call Roland?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll do neither.”
I looked at him.
“You’re not going to tell me you warned me?”
“I did warn you,” he said gently. “You married him anyway. That was your decision, and I respected it.”
“I thought he loved me.”
“He may love you.”
“That doesn’t make what he did acceptable.”
“No,” Dad said. “It doesn’t.”
He glanced at the brass key I had placed on the table.
“That key opens the cabinet behind your mother’s desk.”
“What’s inside?”
“Everything I hoped you would never need.”
Before I could ask what he meant, Gregory entered.
“Mr. Caldwell, there is a vehicle at the south gate.”
Dad didn’t have to ask who it was.
“Is Roland alone?”
“No, sir. There are two women with him.”
Of course there were.
Roland had not come to apologize.
He had brought an audience.
“Tell him Simone and the baby are resting,” Dad said.
My phone began ringing.
Roland.
I let it stop.
He called again.
Then his mother called.
Her message arrived seconds later.
You have made your point. Bring our baby back before this becomes a legal matter.
I turned the screen toward my father.
He read it once.
The gentleness vanished from his face.
“Our baby?” he asked.
“She has called Wren that since the hospital.”
“And what does Roland say?”
“He says she’s excited.”
