The Kids Are Gonna Ask
Page 34
“Aren’t you going to write that down?”
The officer sighed and shook his head. “I’ve got enough.” He closed his notebook with a defeated slap and went to slip it into his breast pocket, then stopped. “One last thing, actually. A few people reported something I can’t seem to make sense of. They reported hearing a woman scream—” He flipped back and forth through his pages of notes. “Here it is. They say she screamed, ‘Was it intercourse?’” He raised a single eyebrow and looked directly at Violet. “Any idea who that might have been?”
Yes, Violet knew. Of course she knew.
The last six months, however, had painted in stark contrast the difference between knowing and understanding. Six months ago, she knew she was married to a world-class scientist. She knew their daughter was on track to exceed her father’s success. Violet knew that she, herself, had meticulously navigated motherhood, raising a successful child during an era when it was both necessary to direct her every move, while acting as if Pinocchio had no strings.
But what did she understand about this family of hers? Not her shockingly secretive daughter, who used her mastery of science for far more than professional advancement. And certainly not her bending willow of a husband. Would it break him to stand up for once?
Imagine. A woman of Violet’s stature faced with such fundamental questions. It was disorienting. Distasteful. Her cheeks burned as if she’d been slapped. Her family’s health, its very survival, would forever fall squarely on her shoulders alone.
Yes, Violet knew who’d shouted the question Officer Bailey was asking about. She knew, too, about the pills, and the vodka, and the backside grabbing, and the sobbing, and all of the jokes for which her family would forever be the butt.
She also knew there would be no explaining it away in this year’s Baumgartner Christmas letter.
Copyright © 2018 by Gretchen Anthony
ISBN-13: 9781488051005
The Kids Are Gonna Ask
Copyright © 2020 by Gretchen Anthony
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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