And again, Daisy gave her daughter as much of the truth as she could. “I don’t know.”
* * *
Just over three hours after they’d left Lower Merion, Daisy pulled into the parking lot of her mother’s apartment building. “Stay here,” she told Beatrice.
“No! I’m coming with you.”
Daisy make her voice firm. “Stay in the car. I’ll be back soon.” Daisy climbed out quickly and walked across the parking lot and into the lobby, locking her legs to keep her knees from shaking as she rode the elevator up to the eighteenth floor. She lifted the brass knocker, feeling its cold weight in her hand, and let it fall, once, then again.
A minute later, there was Arnold, in neatly pressed pants, a button-down shirt, and slippers. “Daisy,” he said, beaming. “What an unexpected surprise!” When she didn’t return his smile, he said, “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” Daisy said, through cold lips. “But I need to speak to my mom for a minute.”
“Of course.” After a worried glance at her face, he said, “I’ll get Judy,” and hurried down the hall in his slippered feet.
Daisy went to the kitchen. The black marble countertops, white cabinets, and clear glass subway-tile backsplash had all been the height of decorating style in the early 2000s. Now they were starting to look a bit dated. Arnold’s wife had cooked for him, and Judy had never been much of a cook and hadn’t cared enough to redecorate. She and Arnold ate most of their meals out.
“Daisy?” Judy Rosen wore loose-fitting velour pants, a fine-gauge cashmere sweater, and her usual full face of makeup. “Is everything all right?”
Daisy stood on the other side of the breakfast bar and set her hands on the counter, leaning forward. “I need to ask you something.”
“All right,” her mom said, her voice hesitant, her expression suddenly wary.
“Did Danny ever tell you anything about Hal? About things Hal had done in high school?”
Judy just stared. Daisy tried again. “Did he ever tell you about a party on the Cape, the summer after they graduated from Emlen?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Judy said, but Daisy saw the way her mother’s eyes flickered briefly to the left, like she couldn’t quite hold Daisy’s gaze.
“Hal raped a girl.”
“Oh, Daisy.” Her mother clasped her hands and looked at Daisy with disapproval. “What a terrible thing to say.”
For a moment, Daisy was sure she must have heard incorrectly. “A terrible thing to say?” she repeated. “How about a terrible thing to do?”
“Let me get you something to drink.” Her mother turned away, and Daisy followed her, staying right on her heels.
“I don’t want anything to drink. I want to know what Danny told you about that party.”
Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “What Danny told me,” she repeated. “What Danny told me was that a girl at the party had gotten very drunk, and that he’d heard that something might have happened to her, and that Hal might have been involved. Your brother was concerned for you. But, Daisy, he didn’t have any reason to worry. Whatever happened when Hal was in high school happened almost fifteen years before you two met. He was a different person by then.”
Daisy shook her head, hearing nothing but mealy-mouthed “mights” and “somethings,” and “that girl.” “My friend Diana. The woman who came to dinner on Saturday. The consultant. She’s the one who says Hal raped her.”
Judy cocked her head, looking quizzical. “The other Diana?”
As soon as her mother spoke, Daisy realized that she should have known. The truth was right there, that it had been there all along, if she’d only been willing to see it. “You know that Hal was the one who started calling me Daisy, right? He said he wanted to give me a name that was special. He said…” She took a breath and tried to remember. “… he said he’d known another Diana, once.” Her mouth felt dry, her body numb, as if it had been packed with snow, as she remembered. “And you knew. You knew what he was. Danny told you.”
Judy Rosen raised her chin. “What Danny told me was that something might have happened when Hal was eighteen. Even if he’d done something terrible, even if it wasn’t just a case of too much alcohol and mixed signals, Daisy, it was so long ago!”
“What if he’d done it to me?” Daisy asked. “What if some boy did that to Beatrice? Would it matter, how long ago it had happened? Would you be okay if he said, Oh, sorry, we were both drinking and I guess I got mixed signals?”